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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Marx's Secret, by E. Phillips Oppenheim,
+Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+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: Mr. Marx's Secret
+
+
+Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 29, 2012  [eBook #39018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. MARX'S SECRET***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 39018-h.htm or 39018-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39018/39018-h/39018-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39018/39018-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. MARX'S SECRET
+
+by
+
+E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
+
+Author of "Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo," "The Double Traitor,"
+"The Illustrious Prince," etc.
+
+With frontispiece by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Boston
+Little, Brown, and Company
+1916
+
+Published, January, 1916
+Reprinted, January, 1916 (twice)
+February, 1916
+
+Printers
+S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                             PAGE
+  I.--News from the Pacific                                             11
+  II.--Mr. Francis                                                      15
+  III.--The Murder at the Slate-Pits                                    18
+  IV.--My Mother's Warning                                              23
+  V.--Ravenor of Ravenor                                                27
+  VI.--A Doubtful Visitor                                               39
+  VII.--A Meeting and a Metamorphosis                                   43
+  VIII.--An Abode of Mystery                                            49
+  IX.--Mr. Marx                                                         58
+  X.--Lady Silchester                                                   65
+  XI.--The Cry in the Avenue                                            70
+  XII.--A Dark Corner in the Avenue                                     76
+  XIII.--The Cloud Between Us                                           81
+  XIV.--A Meeting in the Coffee-Room                                    85
+  XV.--A Tête-à-tête Dinner                                             89
+  XVI.--Miss Mabel Fay                                                  93
+  XVII.--Behind the Scenes at the Torchester Theatre                    98
+  XVIII.--At Midnight on the Moor                                      103
+  XIX.--A Strange Attack                                               111
+  XX.--The Monastery Among the Hills                                   115
+  XXI.--A Message from the Dead                                        124
+  XXII.--For Life                                                      127
+  XXIII.--My Guardian                                                  135
+  XXIV.--My First Dinner Party                                         138
+  XXV.--Mr. Marx's Warning                                             144
+  XXVI.--A Lost Photograph                                             148
+  XXVII.--Leonard de Cartienne                                         157
+  XXVIII.--"As Rome Does"                                              164
+  XXIX.--A Dinner Party Sub-rosa                                       169
+  XXX.--Écarté with Mr. Fothergill                                     174
+  XXXI.--A Startling Discovery                                         182
+  XXXII.--Forestalled                                                  190
+  XXXIII.--A Gleam of Light                                            195
+  XXXIV.--Dr. Schofield's Opinion                                      199
+  XXXV.--An Invitation                                                 204
+  XXXVI.--A Metamorphosis                                              209
+  XXXVII.--Mr. Marx is Wanted                                          218
+  XXXVIII.--I Accept a Mission                                         223
+  XXXIX.--My Ride                                                      225
+  XL.--My Mission                                                      229
+  XLI.--The Count de Cartienne                                         232
+  XLII.--News of Mr. Marx                                              240
+  XLIII.--About Town                                                   246
+  XLIV.--A Midnight Excursion to the Suburbs                           252
+  XLV.--A Mysterious Commission                                        258
+  XLVI.--A Brush with the Police                                       261
+  XLVII.--Light at Last                                                264
+  XLVIII.--A Page of History                                           269
+  XLIX.--I will Go Alone                                               278
+  L.--I Meet my Father                                                 280
+  LI.--Dawn                                                            284
+  LII.--Where is Mr. Marx?                                             287
+  LIII.--Messrs. Higgenson and Co.                                     293
+  LIV.--A Raid                                                         299
+  LV.--The Mystery of Mr. Marx                                         304
+  LVI.--The End of It                                                  308
+
+
+
+
+                            MR. MARX'S SECRET
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+                         NEWS FROM THE PACIFIC.
+
+
+My home was a quaint, three-storeyed, ivy-clad farmhouse in a Midland
+county. It lay in a hollow, nestled close up against Rothland Wood, the
+dark, close-growing trees of which formed a picturesque background to the
+worn greystone whereof it was fashioned.
+
+In front, just across the road, was the boundary-wall of Ravenor Park,
+with its black fir spinneys, huge masses of lichen-covered rock, clear
+fish-ponds, and breezy hills, from the summits of which were visible the
+sombre grey towers of Ravenor Castle, standing out with grim, rugged
+boldness against the sky.
+
+Forbidden ground though it was, there was not a yard of the park up to
+the inner boundary fence which I did not know; not a spinney where I had
+not searched for birds' nests or raided in quest of the first primrose;
+not a hill on which I had not spent some part of a summer afternoon.
+
+I was a trespasser, of course; but I was the son of Farmer Morton, an old
+tenant on the estate, and much in favour with the keepers, by reason of a
+famous brew which he was ever ready to offer a thirsty man, or to drink
+himself. So "Morton's young 'un" was unmolested; and, save for an
+occasional good-humoured warning from Crooks, the head-gamekeeper, during
+breeding-time, I had the run of the place.
+
+Moreover, the great estates of which Ravenor Park was the centre knew at
+that time no other master than a lawyer of non-sporting proclivities, so
+the preserves were only looked after as a matter of form.
+
+I was eight years old, and an unusually hot summer was at its height. It
+was past midday, and I had just come out from the house, with the
+intention of settling down for an afternoon's reading in a shady corner
+of the orchard. I had reached the stack-yard gate when I stopped short,
+my hand upon the fastening.
+
+A most unusual sound was floating across the meadows, through the
+breathless air. The church-bells of Rothland, the village on the other
+side of the wood, had suddenly burst out into a wild, clashing peal of
+joy.
+
+In a country district everybody knows everyone else's business; and,
+child though I was, I knew that no marriage was taking place anywhere
+near.
+
+I stood listening in wonderment, for I had never heard such a thing
+before; and, while I was lingering, the bells from Annerley, a village a
+little farther away, and the grand, mellow-sounding chimes from the
+chapel at Ravenor Castle, breaking the silence of many years, took up the
+peal, and the lazy summer day seemed all of a sudden to wake up into a
+state of unaccountable delight.
+
+I ran back towards the house and met my mother standing in the cool stone
+porch. The men about the farm were all grouped together, wondering. No
+one had the least idea of what had happened.
+
+And then Jim Harrison, the waggoner, who had just come in from the home
+meadow, called out quickly, pointing with his finger; and far away, along
+the white, dusty road, we could see the figure of a man on horseback
+riding towards us at a furious gallop.
+
+"It be the master!" he cried, excitedly. "It be the master, for sure!
+There bean't no mistaking Brown Bess's gallop. Lord-a-mercy! how 'e be
+a-riding her!"
+
+We all trooped out on to the road to meet my father, eager to hear the
+news. In a few moments he reached us, and brought Brown Bess to a
+standstill, bathed in sweat and dust, and quivering in every limb.
+
+"Hurrah, lads!" he shouted, waving his whip above his head. "Hurrah!
+There never was such a bit o' news as I've got for you! All Mellborough
+be gone crazy about it!"
+
+"What is it, George? Why don't you tell us?" my mother asked quickly.
+And, to my surprise, her hand, in which mine was resting, was as cold as
+ice, notwithstanding the August heat.
+
+He raised himself in his stirrups and shouted so that all might hear:
+
+"Squire Ravenor be come to life again! They 'a' found him on an island in
+the Pacific, close against the coral reef where his yacht went down six
+years ago! He's on his way home again, lads. Think of that! Sal, lass,
+bring us up a gallon of ale and another after it. We'll drink to his
+homecoming, lads!"
+
+There was a burst of applause and many exclamations of wonder. My
+mother's hand had moved, as though unconsciously, to my shoulder, and she
+was leaning heavily upon me.
+
+"Where did you hear this, George?" she asked, in a subdued tone.
+
+"Why, it be in all the London papers this morning," he answered, taking
+off his hat and wiping his forehead. "The steamer that's bringing him
+home 'a' sent a message from some foreign port, and Lawyer Cox he's got
+one, and it's all written up large on the walls of the Corn Exchange. I
+reckon it'll make those deuced lawyers sit up!" chuckled my father, as he
+slowly dismounted.
+
+"Lord-a-mercy! Only to think on it! Six year on a little bit o' an
+island, and not a living soul to speak a word to! And now he's on his way
+home again. It beats all story-telling I ever heerd on. Why, Alice, lass,
+it 'a' quite upset you," he added, looking anxiously at my mother.
+"You're all white and scared-like. Dost feel badly?"
+
+She was standing with her back to us and when she turned round it seemed
+to me that a change had crept into her face.
+
+"It is the heat and excitement," she said quietly. "This is strange news.
+I think that I will go in and rest."
+
+"All right, lass! Get thee indoors and lie down for a bit. Now, then,
+lads. Hurrah for the squire and long life to him! Pour it out, Jim--pour
+it out! Don't be afraid on it. Such news as this don't coom every day."
+
+And, with the vision of my stalwart yeoman father, the centre of a little
+group of farm-labourers, holding his foaming glass high above his head,
+and his honest face ruddy with heat and excitement, my memories of this
+scene grow dim and fade away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+                              MR. FRANCIS.
+
+
+I was alone with my father in the kitchen, and he was looking as I had
+never seen him look before. It was late in the afternoon--as near as I
+can remember, about six weeks after the news had reached us of Mr.
+Ravenor's wonderful adventures. He had just come in for tea, flushed with
+toil and labouring in the hot sun. But as he stood on the flags before
+me, reading a letter which had been sent up from the village, the glow
+seemed to die out from his face and his strong, rough hands trembled.
+
+"It's a lie!" I heard him mutter to himself, in a hoarse whisper--"a
+wicked lie!"
+
+Then he sank back in one of the high-backed chairs and I watched him,
+frightened.
+
+"Philip, lad," he said to me, speaking slowly, and yet with a certain
+eagerness in his tone, "has your mother had any visitors lately whilst I
+'a' been out on the farm?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"No one, except Mr. Francis," I added doubtfully.
+
+He groaned and hid his face for a moment.
+
+"How often has he been here?" he asked, after a while. "When did he come
+first? Dost remember?"
+
+"Yes," I answered promptly, "It was on the day Tom Foulds fell from the
+oat-stack and broke his leg. There was another gentleman with him then. I
+saw them looking in at the orchard gate, so I asked them if they wanted
+anything, and the strange gentleman said that he was thirsty and would
+like some milk, so I took him into the dairy; and I think that mother
+must have known him before, for she seemed so surprised to see him.
+
+"He gave me half a crown, too," I went on, "to run away and watch for a
+friend of his. But the friend never came, although I waited ever so long.
+He's been often since; but I don't like him and----"
+
+I broke off in sudden dismay. Had not my mother forbidden my mentioning
+these visits to anyone? What had I done? I began to cry silently.
+
+My father rose from his chair and leaned against the oaken chimney-piece,
+with his back turned towards me.
+
+"It's he, sure enough!" he gasped. "Heaven forgive her! But him--him----"
+
+His voice seemed choked with passion and he did not finish his sentence.
+I knew that I had done wrong, and a vague apprehension of threatening
+evil stole swiftly upon me. But I sat still and waited.
+
+It was long before my father turned round and spoke again. When he did so
+I scarcely knew him, for there were deep lines across his forehead, and
+all the healthy, sunburnt tan seemed to have gone from his face. He
+looked ten years older and I trembled when he spoke.
+
+"Listen, Philip, lad!" he said gravely. "Your mother thinks I be gone
+straight away to Farmer Woods to see about the colt, don't she?"
+
+I nodded silently. We had not expected him home again until late in the
+evening.
+
+"Now, look you here, Philip," he continued. "She's gone to bed wi' a
+headache, you say? Very well. Just you promise me that you won't go near
+her."
+
+I promised readily enough. Then he bade me get my tea and he sank back
+again into his chair. Once I asked him timidly if he were not going to
+have some, but he took no notice. When I had finished he led me softly
+upstairs and locked me in my room. Never to this day have I forgotten
+that dull look of hopeless agony in his face as he turned away and left
+me.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+                     THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.
+
+
+It was late on this same evening. All day long the thunder had been
+rumbling and growling, and now the storm seemed close at hand.
+
+I had partly undressed, but it was too hot to get into bed, so I leaned
+out of my wide-open window, watching the black clouds hanging down from
+the sky, and listening to the rustling of leaves in the wood--sure sign
+of the coming storm.
+
+The air was stifling; and, longing feverishly for the rain, I sat in the
+deep window-sill and looked out into the scented darkness, for
+honeysuckle and clematis drooped around my window and the garden below
+was overgrown with homely, sweet-smelling flowers.
+
+Suddenly I started. I was quick at hearing, and I had distinctly caught
+the sound of a light, firm step passing down the garden path beneath. My
+first impulse was to call out, but I checked it when I recognised the
+tall, graceful figure moving swiftly along the gravel walk in the shade
+of the yew-hedge. It was my mother!
+
+I watched her, scarcely believing my eyes. What could she be wanting in
+the garden at this hour? And while I sat on the window casement,
+wondering, a cold shiver of alarm chilled me, for I saw a man creep
+stealthily out from the wood and hurry across the little stretch of
+meadow towards the garden gate, where she was standing.
+
+The moon was shining with a sickly light through a thick halo of mist and
+I could only just distinguish the figures of my mother and this man, side
+by side, talking earnestly. I watched them with riveted eyes until I
+heard a quick step on the floor behind me and a hand was laid upon my
+mouth, stifling my cry of surprise.
+
+"It's only me, Philip, lad," whispered a hoarse, tremulous voice. "I
+didn't want you to call out--that's all. Hast seen anything of this
+before?" And he pointed, with shaking finger, towards the window, from
+which he had drawn me back a little.
+
+I looked at him, a great horror stealing over me. His ruddy face was
+blanched and drawn, as though with pain; and there was a terrible light
+in his eyes. I was frightened and half inclined to cry.
+
+"No," I faltered. "It's only Mr. Francis, isn't it?"
+
+"Only Mr. Francis!" I heard my father repeat, with a groan. "Oh, Alice,
+lass--Alice! How could you?"
+
+He staggered blindly towards the door. I rushed after him, piteously
+calling him back, but he pushed me off roughly and hurried out.
+
+I heard him leave the house, but he did not go down the garden. Then, in
+a few minutes, every one of which seemed to me like an hour, the low
+voices at the gate ceased and my mother came slowly up the path towards
+the house.
+
+I rushed downstairs and met her in the hall. She seemed half surprised,
+half angry, to see me.
+
+"Philip," she exclaimed, "I thought you were in bed long ago! What are
+you doing here?"
+
+"I am frightened!" I sobbed out. "Father has been in my room watching you
+at the gate and he talked so strangely. He is very angry and he looks as
+though he were going to hurt someone."
+
+My mother leaned against the wall, every vestige of colour gone from her
+face, and her hand pressed to her side. She understood better than I did
+then.
+
+"Where is he now?" she asked hysterically. "Quick, Philip--quick! Tell
+me!"
+
+"He is gone," I answered. "He went out by the front door and up the
+road."
+
+A sudden calmness seemed to come to her and she stood for a moment
+thinking aloud.
+
+"He has gone up to the wood gate! They will meet in the wood. Oh, Heaven,
+prevent it!" she cried passionately.
+
+She turned and rushed into the garden, down the path and through the
+wicket gate towards the wood. I followed her, afraid to stay alone. A
+vast mass of inky-black clouds had sailed in front of the moon and the
+darkness, especially in the wood, was intense.
+
+More than once I fell headlong down, scratching my face and hands with
+the brambles; but each time I was on my feet immediately, scarcely
+conscious of the pain in my wild desire to keep near my mother.
+
+How she found her way I cannot tell. Great pieces of her dress were torn
+off and remained hanging to the bushes into which she stepped; and many
+times I saw her run against a tree and recoil half stunned by the shock.
+
+But still we made progress, and at last we came to a part of the wood
+where the trees and undergrowth were less dense and there was a steep
+ascent. Up it we ran and when we reached the top my mother paused to
+listen, while I stood, breathless, by her side.
+
+Save that the leaves above us were stirring with a curious motion, there
+was not a sound in the whole wood. Birds and animals, even insects,
+seemed to have crept away to their holes before the coming storm. We
+could see nothing, for a thick mantle of darkness--a darkness which could
+almost be felt--had fallen upon the earth. We stood crouched together,
+trembling and fearful.
+
+"Thank Heaven for the darkness!" my mother murmured to herself. "Philip,"
+she went on, stooping down and feeling for my hand, "do you know where we
+are? We should be close to the slate-pits."
+
+I was on the point of answering her, but the words died away on my parted
+lips. Such a sight as was revealed to us at that moment might have driven
+a strong man mad.
+
+Although half a lifetime has passed away, I can see it now as at that
+moment. But describe it I cannot, for no words of mine could paint the
+thrilling beauty and, at the same time, the breathless horror of the
+scene which opened like a flash before us.
+
+Trees, sky, and space were suddenly bathed in a brilliant, lurid light,
+the like of which I have never since seen, nor ever shall again. It came
+and went in a space of time which only thought could measure; and this is
+what it showed us:--
+
+Yawning at our feet the deep pit and sullen waters of the quarry, for we
+were scarcely a single step from the precipitous edge; the huge piles of
+slate and the sheds with the workmen's tools scattered around; and my
+father, his arms thrown upwards in agony, and a wild cry bursting from
+his lips, at the very moment that he was hurled over the opposite side of
+the chasm!
+
+We saw the frantic convulsions of despair upon his ashen face, his eyes
+starting from their sockets, as he felt himself falling into space; and
+we saw the dim outline of another man staggering back from the brink,
+with his hands outstretched before his face, in horror at what he had
+done.
+
+Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fierce glare vanished. The
+heavens--only a moment before open and flooding the land with sheets of
+living fire--were black and impenetrable, and the crashing thunder shook
+the air around and made the earth tremble, as though it were splitting up
+and the very elements were being dissolved.
+
+With a cry, the heartrending anguish of which will ring for ever in my
+ears, my mother sank down, a white, scared heap; and I, my limbs unstrung
+and my senses numbed, crouched helpless beside her. Then the rain fell
+and there was silence.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+                          MY MOTHER'S WARNING.
+
+
+For many weeks after that terrible night in Rothland Wood, I lay
+wrestling with a fierce fever, my recovery from which was deemed little
+short of miraculous. A sound constitution, however, and careful nursing
+brought me round, and I opened my eyes one sunny morning upon what seemed
+to me almost a new world.
+
+The first thing that I can clearly remember after my return to
+consciousness was the extraordinary change which had taken place in my
+mother. From a beautiful, active woman, she seemed to have become
+transformed into a stern, cold statue.
+
+Even now I can recall how frightened I was of her during those first days
+of convalescence, and how I shrank from her constant presence by my
+bedside with a nameless dread.
+
+The change was in her appearance as well as in her manner. Her rich brown
+hair had turned completely grey, and there was a frigid, set look in her
+face, denuded of all expression or affection, which chilled me every time
+I looked into it. It was the face--not of my mother, but of a stranger.
+
+As I began to regain strength and the doctors pronounced me fit to leave
+the sick-room, she began to display signs of uneasiness, and often looked
+at me in a singular kind of way, as though there were something which she
+would say to me.
+
+And one night I woke up suddenly, to find her standing by my bedside,
+wrapped in a long dressing-gown, her grey hair streaming down her back
+and a wild gleam in her burning eyes. I started up in bed with a cry of
+fear, but she held out her hand with a gesture which she intended to be
+reassuring.
+
+"Nothing is the matter, Philip," she said. "Lie down, but listen."
+
+I obeyed, and had she noticed me closely she would have seen that I was
+shivering; for her strange appearance and the total lack of affection in
+her manner, had filled me with something approaching to horror.
+
+"Philip, you will soon be well enough to go out," she continued. "People
+will ask you questions about that night."
+
+It was the first time the subject had been broached between us. I raised
+myself a little in the bed and gazed at her, with blanched cheeks and
+fascinated eyes.
+
+"Listen, Philip! You must remember nothing. Do you understand me?"
+
+"Yes," I answered faintly.
+
+"You must forget that you saw me in the garden; you must forget
+everything your father said to you. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes," I repeated. "But--but, mother----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Will he be caught--the man who killed father?" I asked timidly. "Oh, I
+hope he will!"
+
+Her lips parted slowly, and she laughed--a bitter, hysterical laugh,
+which seemed to me the most awful sound I had ever heard.
+
+"Hope! Yes; you may hope--hope if you will!" she cried; "but remember
+this, boy: If your hope comes true, it will be an evil day for you and
+for me! Remember!"
+
+Then she turned and walked to the door without another word. I sat in bed
+and watched her piteously, with a great lump in my throat and a sore
+heart. The moonlight was pouring in through my latticed window, falling
+full upon the long, graceful lines of her stately figure and her hard,
+cold face. I was forlorn and unhappy, but to look at her froze the words
+upon my lips.
+
+Merciless and cruel her features seemed to me. There was no pity, no
+love, not a shadow of response to my half-formed, appealing gesture. I
+let her go and sank back upon my pillows, weeping bitterly, with a deep
+sense of utter loneliness and desolation.
+
+On the following day I was allowed to leave my room and very soon I was
+able to get about. As my mother had anticipated, many people asked me
+questions concerning the events of that hideous night. To one and all my
+answer was the same. I remembered nothing. My illness had left my memory
+a blank.
+
+Long afterwards I saw more clearly how well it was that I had obeyed my
+mother's bidding.
+
+A brief extract from a county newspaper will be sufficient to show what
+the universal opinion was concerning my father's murder. I copy it here:
+
+"In another column will be found an account of the inquest on the body of
+George Morton, farmer, late of Rothland Wood Farm. The verdict returned
+by the jury--namely, 'Wilful murder against John Francis'--was, in the
+face of the evidence, the only possible one; and everyone must unite in
+hoping that the efforts of the police will be successful, and that the
+criminal will not be allowed to escape. The facts are simple and
+conclusive.
+
+"It appears from the evidence of Mr. Bullson, landlord of the George
+Hotel, Mellborough, and of several other _habitués_ of the place, that
+only a few days before the deed was committed, there was a violent
+dispute between deceased and Francis and that threats were freely used on
+both sides. On the night in question Francis started from Rothland
+village shortly after nine o'clock, with the intention of making his way
+through the wood to Ravenor Castle. Owing, no doubt, to the extraordinary
+darkness of the night, he appears to have lost his way, and to have been
+directed by Mrs. Morton, who noticed him wandering about near her garden
+gate.
+
+"Mrs. Morton declines to swear to his identity, owing in the darkness;
+but this, in the face of other circumstances, must count for little in
+his favour. He was also seen by the deceased, who, enraged at finding him
+on his land and addressing his wife, started in pursuit, followed by Mrs.
+Morton and her little boy, who arrived at the slate-pits in time to
+witness, but too late to prevent, the awful tragedy which we fully
+reported a few days since.
+
+"In face of the flight of the man Francis, and the known fact that he was
+in the wood that night, there is little room for doubt as to his being
+the actual perpetrator of the deed, although the details of the struggle
+must remain, for the present, shrouded in mystery. Mr. Ravenor, who has
+just arrived in England, has offered a reward of £500 for information
+leading to the arrest of Francis, who was a servant at the Castle."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+                          RAVENOR OF RAVENOR.
+
+
+It was generally expected that my mother would be anxious to depart as
+soon as possible from a neighbourhood which had such terrible
+associations for her. As a matter of fact, she showed no intention of
+doing anything of the sort. At the time I rather wondered at this, but I
+am able now to divine her reason.
+
+It chanced that the farm, of which my father had been tenant for nearly a
+quarter of a century, was taken by a neighbour who had no use for the
+house, and so it was arranged that we should stay on at a merely nominal
+rent. Then began a chapter of my life without event, which I can pass
+rapidly over.
+
+Every morning I walked over to Rothland and received two hours'
+instruction from the curate, and in the afternoon my mother taught me
+modern languages. The rest of the day I spent alone, wandering
+whithersoever I pleased, staying away as long as I chose, and returning
+when I felt inclined. The results of such a life at my age soon developed
+themselves. I became something of a misanthrope, a great reader, and a
+passionate lover of Nature. At any rate, it was healthy, and my taste for
+all sorts of outdoor sport prevented my becoming a bookworm.
+
+It had its influence, too, upon my disposition. It strengthened and gave
+colour to my imagination, expanded my mind, and filled me with a strong
+love for everything that was vigorous and fresh and pure in the books I
+read.
+
+Shakespeare and Goethe were my first favourites in literature; but as I
+grew older the fascination of lyric poetry obtained a hold upon me, and
+Shelley and Keats, for a time, reigned supreme in my fancy. But my tastes
+were catholic. I read everything that came in my way, and was blessed
+with a wonderful memory, which enabled me to retain much that was worth
+retaining.
+
+Meanwhile, the more purely technical part of my education was being
+steadily persevered in; and so I was not surprised, although it was
+rather a blow to me, when the clergyman who had been my tutor walked home
+with me through the wood one summer evening, and told my mother that it
+was useless my going to him any longer, for I already knew all that he
+could teach me.
+
+I watched her covertly, hoping that she would show some sign of
+gratification at what I felt to be a high compliment. But she simply
+remarked that, if such was the case, she supposed the present arrangement
+had better terminate, thanked him for the trouble he had taken with me,
+and dismissed the matter. I scanned her cold, beautiful face in vain for
+any signs of interest. The cloud which had fallen between us on the night
+of my father's murder had never been lifted.
+
+The curate stayed to tea with us, and afterwards I walked back through
+the woods with him, for he was a sociable fellow, fond of company--even
+mine.
+
+When I reached home again I found my mother looking out for me, and I
+knew from her manner that she had something important to say to me.
+
+"Philip, I have heard to-day that Mr. Ravenor is expected home," she said
+slowly.
+
+I started and a little exclamation of pleasure escaped me. There was no
+man whom I longed so much to see. What a reputation was his! A scholar of
+European fame, a poet, and a great sinner; a Croesus; at times a reckless
+Sybarite, at others an ascetic and a hermit; a student of Voltaire; the
+founder of a new school of philosophy. All these things I had heard of
+him at different times, but as yet I had never seen him. Something more
+than my curiosity had been excited and I looked forward now to its
+gratification.
+
+My mother took no note of my exclamation, but her brow darkened. We were
+standing together on the lawn in front of the house and she was in the
+shadow of a tall cypress tree.
+
+"I do not suppose that he will remain here long," she continued, in a
+hard, strained tone; "but while he is at the Castle it is my wish that
+you do not enter the park at all."
+
+"Not enter the park!" I repeated the words and stared at my mother in
+blank astonishment. What difference could Mr. Ravenor's presence make to
+us?
+
+"Surely you do not mean this?" I cried, bitterly disappointed. "Why, I
+have been looking forward for years to see Mr. Ravenor! He is a famous
+man!"
+
+"I know it," she interrupted, "and a very dangerous one. I do not wish
+you to meet him. The chances are that he would not notice you if he saw
+you, but it is better to run no risks. You will remember what I have
+said? A man of his strange views and principles is to be
+avoided--especially by an impressionable boy like you."
+
+She left me dumbfounded, crossed the lawn with smooth, even footsteps,
+and entered the house. I watched her disappear, disturbed and uneasy;
+Something in her manner had conveyed a strange impression to me. I could
+not help thinking she had other reasons than those she had given for
+wishing to keep Mr. Ravenor and me apart. It seemed on the face of it to
+be a very absurd notion, but it had laid hold of me and her subsequent
+conduct did not tend to dispel it.
+
+On the afternoon of his expected arrival I lingered about for hours in
+the orchard, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, for the gates of the park,
+opposite our house, were the nearest to Mellborough Station. But I was
+disappointed. He came, it is true, but in a closed brougham, drawn by a
+pair of swift, high-stepping bays, which swept like a flash by the hedge
+over which I was looking, leaving a confused recollection of glistening
+harness, handsome liveries, and a dark, noble face, partly turned towards
+me, but imperfectly seen. It was a glimpse which only increased my
+interest; yet how to gratify my curiosity in view of my mother's wishes I
+could not tell.
+
+That night she renewed her prohibition. She came to me in the little
+room, where I kept my books and Penates, and laid her hand upon my
+shoulder. Mr. Ravenor had returned, she said--how did she know, save that
+she, too, had been watching, for the flag was not yet hoisted?--and she
+hoped that I would remember what her wishes were.
+
+I promised that I would observe them, as far as I could, although they
+seemed to me ridiculous, and I did not hesitate to hint as much. What was
+more unlikely than that Mr. Ravenor, distinguished man of the world,
+should take the slightest notice of a country boy, much more attempt to
+gain any sort of influence over him? The more I thought of it and of my
+mother's nervous fears, the more I grew convinced, against my will, of
+some other motive which was to be kept secret from me.
+
+A week passed and very little was seen of Mr. Ravenor by anyone. As
+usual, many rumours were circulated and discussed. He was reported to
+have shut himself up in his library and to have refused admission to all
+visitors. He was living like an anchorite, fasting and working hard,
+surrounded by books and manuscripts all day and night, and far into the
+small hours of the morning. He was doing penance for recent excesses; he
+was preparing for some wild orgies; he was writing a novel, a
+philosophical pamphlet, an article for the reviews, or another volume of
+poems.
+
+Among all classes of our neighbours nothing else was talked about but the
+doings, or supposed doings, of Mr. Ravenor.
+
+One afternoon chance led me into the little room which my mother called
+her own, a room I seldom entered. There was a small volume lying on the
+table and carelessly I took it up and glanced at the title. Then, with a
+quick exclamation of pleasure, I carried it away with me. It was Mr.
+Ravenor's first little volume of poems, which I had tried in vain to get.
+The Mellborough bookseller of whom I had ordered it told me that it was
+out of print. The first edition had been exhausted long since and the
+author had refused to allow a second edition to be issued.
+
+I met my mother in the hall and held out the volume to her.
+
+"You never told me that you had a copy of Mr. Ravenor's poems," I said
+reproachfully. "I have just found it in your room."
+
+She started, and for a moment I feared that she was going to insist upon
+my giving up the book. She did not do so, however; but I noticed that the
+hand which was resting upon the banister was grasping the handrail
+nervously, as though for support, and that she was white to the very
+lips.
+
+"No; I had forgotten," she said slowly--"I mean that I had forgotten you
+had ever asked for it. Take care of it, Philip, and give it me back
+to-night. It was given to me by a friend and I value it."
+
+I promised and left the house. My range of pleasures was in some respects
+a limited one, but it did not prevent me from being an epicure with
+regard to their enjoyment. I did not glance inside the book, although I
+was longing to do so, until I had walked five or six miles and had
+reached one of my favourite halting-places. Then I threw myself down in
+the shadow of a great rock on the top of Beacon Hill and took the volume
+from my pocket.
+
+It was a small, olive-green book, delicately bound, and printed upon
+rough paper. It had been given to my mother, evidently, for her Christian
+name was inside, written in a fine, dashing hand, and underneath were
+some initials which had become indistinct. Then, having satisfied myself
+of this, and handled it for a few moments, I turned over the pages
+rapidly and began to read.
+
+The first part was composed almost entirely of sonnets and love-poems.
+One after another I read them and wondered. There was nothing amateurish,
+nothing weak, here. They were full of glowing imagery, of brilliant
+colouring, of passion, of fire. Crude some of them seemed to me, who had
+read no modern poetry and knew many of Shakespeare's and Milton's sonnets
+by heart; but full of genius, nevertheless, and with the breath of life
+warm in them.
+
+The second portion was devoted to longer poems and these I liked best.
+There was in some more than a touch of the graceful, fascinating
+mysticism of Shelley, the passionate outcry of a strong, noble mind,
+seeking to wrest from Nature her vast secrets and to fathom the mysteries
+of existence; the wail of bewildered nobility of soul turning in despair
+from the cold creeds of modern religion to seek some other and higher
+form of spiritual life.
+
+I read on until the sun had gone down and the shades of twilight had
+chased the afterglow from the western sky. Then I closed the book and
+rose suddenly with a great start.
+
+Scarcely a dozen yards away, on the extreme summit of the hill, a man on
+horseback sat watching me. His unusually tall figure and the fine shape
+of the coal-black horse which he was riding, stood out against the
+background of the distant sky with a vividness which seemed almost more
+than natural. Such a face as his I had never seen, never imagined. I
+could neither describe it, nor think of anything with which to compare
+it.
+
+Dark, with jet-black hair, and complexion perfectly clear, but tanned by
+Southern suns; a small, firm mouth; a high forehead, furrowed with
+thought; aquiline nose; grey-blue eyes, powerful and expressive--any man
+might thus be described, and yet lack altogether the wonderful charm of
+the face into which I looked. It was the rare combination of perfect
+classical modelling with intensity of character and nobility of
+intellect. It was the face of a king among men; and yet there were times
+when a certain smile played around those iron lips, and a certain light
+flashed in those brilliant eyes, when to look into it made me shudder.
+But that was afterwards.
+
+He remained looking at me and I at him, for fully a minute. Then he
+beckoned to me with his whip--a slight but imperious gesture. I rose and
+walked to his side.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked curtly.
+
+"My name is Philip Morton," I answered. "I live at Rothland Wood
+farmhouse."
+
+"Son of the man who was murdered?"
+
+I assented. He gazed at me fixedly, with the faintest possible expression
+of interest in his languid grey eyes.
+
+"You were very intent upon your book," he remarked. "What was it?"
+
+I held it up.
+
+"You should know it, sir," I answered.
+
+He glanced at the title and shrugged his shoulders slightly. There were
+indications of a frown upon his fine forehead.
+
+"You should be able to employ your time better than that," he said.
+
+"I don't think so. I am fond of reading--especially poetry," I replied.
+
+The idea seemed to amuse him, for he smiled, and the stem lines in his
+countenance relaxed for a moment. Directly his lips were parted his whole
+expression was transformed and I understood what women had meant when
+they talked about the fascination of his face.
+
+"Fond of reading, are you? A village bookworm. Well, they say that to
+book-lovers every volume has a language and a mission of its own. What do
+my schoolboy voices tell you?"
+
+"That you were once in love," I answered quickly.
+
+A half-amused, half-contemptuous shade passed across his face.
+
+"Youth has its follies, like every other stage of life," he said. "I
+daresay I experienced the luxury of the sensation once, but it must have
+been a long time ago. Come, is that all it tells you?"
+
+"It tells me that men lie when they call you an Atheist."
+
+He sat quite still on his horse and the smile on his lips became a
+mocking one.
+
+"Atheism was most unfashionable when those verses were written," he
+remarked. "Any other 'ism' was popular enough, but Atheism sounded ugly.
+Besides, I was only a boy then. Perhaps I had some imagination left. It
+is a gift which one loses in later life."
+
+"But religion is not dependent upon imagination."
+
+"Wholly. Religion is an effort of imagination and, therefore, is more or
+less a matter of disposition. That is one of its chief absurdities. Women
+and sensitive boys are easiest affected by it. Men of sturdy
+common-sense, men with brains and the knowledge how to use them, are
+every day bursting the trammels of an effete orthodoxy."
+
+"And what can their common-sense and their brains give them in its
+place?" I asked. "I cannot conceive any practical religion without
+orthodoxy."
+
+"A little measure of philosophy. It is all they want. Only the
+faint-hearted, who have not the courage to contemplate physical
+annihilation, console themselves by building up a hysterical faith in an
+impossible hereafter. There is no hereafter."
+
+"A horrible creed!" I exclaimed.
+
+"By no means. Let men devote half the time and the efforts that they
+devote to this phantasy of religion to schooling themselves in
+philosophic thought, and they will learn to contemplate it unmoved. To
+recognise that the end of life is inevitable is to rob it of most of its
+terrors, save to cowards. The man who wastes a tissue of his body in
+regretting what he cannot prevent is a fool. Annihilation is a more
+comfortable doctrine and a more reasonable one, too. Don't you agree with
+me, boy?"
+
+"No; not with a single word!" I cried, growing hot and a little angry,
+for I could see that he was only half in earnest and I had no fancy to be
+made a butt of. "Imagination is not the groundwork of religion;
+common-sense is. Why----"
+
+"Oh, spare me the stock arguments!" he broke in, with a slight shudder.
+"Keep your religion and hug it as close as you like, if you find it any
+comfort to you. Where have you been to school?"
+
+"Nowhere," I answered. "I have read with Mr. Sands, the curate of
+Rothland."
+
+He laughed softly to himself, as though the idea amused him, looking at
+me all the time as though I were some sort of natural curiosity.
+
+"Fond of reading, are you?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Yes. Fonder than I am of anything else."
+
+"And your books--where do they come from?"
+
+"Wherever I can get any. From the library at Mellborough, or from Mr.
+Sands, most of them." He laughed again and repeated my words, as though
+amused.
+
+"No wonder you're behind the times," he remarked. "Now, shall I lend you
+some books?"
+
+I shook my head feebly, for I was longing to accept his offer.
+
+"I'm afraid your sort of books would not suit me," I said. "I don't want
+to be converted to your way of thinking. It seems to me that there is
+such a thing as overtraining of the mind."
+
+"So you look upon me as a sort of Mephistopheles, eh? Well, I've no
+ambition to make a convert of you. To be a pessimist is to be----"
+
+"An unhappy man," I interrupted eagerly, "and a very narrow-minded one,
+too. It is a city-born creed. No one could live out here in the country
+and espouse it!"
+
+"Boy, how old are you?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Seventeen next birthday, sir," I answered.
+
+"You have a glib tongue--the sign of an empty head, I fear."
+
+"Better empty than full of unhealthy philosophy," I answered bluntly.
+
+He laughed outright.
+
+"The country air has sharpened your wits, at any rate," he said. "You're
+a fool, Philip Morton; but you will be happier in your folly than other
+men in their wisdom. There's a great deal of comfort in ignorance."
+
+He gave me a careless yet not unkind nod and, wheeling his great horse
+round with a turn of the wrist, galloped down the hillside and across the
+soft, spongy turf at a pace which soon carried him out of sight. But I
+stood for a while on a piece of broken rock on the summit of the hill
+gazing after his retreating figure, and watching the twinkling lights
+from the many villages stretched away in the valley below. The sound of
+his low, strong voice yet vibrated in my ears, and the sad, beautiful
+face, with its languid grey eyes and weary expression, seemed still by my
+side. Already I began to feel something of the influence which this man
+appeared to exercise over everyone whom he came near; and I felt vaguely,
+even then, that if suffered to grow, it would become an influence
+all-powerful with me.
+
+When I reached home it was late--so late that my mother, who seldom
+betrayed any interest or curiosity in my doings, asked me questions. I
+felt a curious reluctance at first to tell her with whom I had been
+talking, and it was justified when I saw the effect which my words had
+upon her. A look almost of horror filled her eyes and her face was white
+with anger. It was as though a long-expected blow had fallen.
+
+"At last! at last!" she murmured to herself, as though forgetful of my
+presence. Then her eyes closed and her lips moved softly. It seemed to me
+that she was praying.
+
+I was bewildered and inclined to be angry that she should carry her
+dislike of Mr. Ravenor so far. Did she think me so weak and
+impressionable that a few minutes' conversation with any man could bring
+me harm?
+
+"You carry your dislike of Mr. Ravenor a little too far, mother," I
+ventured to say. "What can you know of him so bad that you see danger in
+my having talked with him for a few minutes?"
+
+She looked at me fixedly and grew more composed.
+
+"It is too late now, Philip," she said, in a low tone. "The mischief is
+done. If I could have foreseen this we would have gone away."
+
+"To have avoided Mr. Ravenor?" I cried, wondering.
+
+"Yes."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+                          A DOUBTFUL VISITOR.
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the following day a visitor rode through the
+stack-yard and reined in his horse before our door. I was reading in the
+room which my mother chiefly occupied and, when I glanced out of the
+side-window, overhung and darkened by jessamine and honeysuckle, I had a
+great surprise. The book dropped from my fingers and I stood still for a
+moment, uncertain what to do. For outside, sitting composedly upon his
+fine black horse and apparently considering as to the best means of
+making his presence known, was Mr. Ravenor.
+
+He saw me and, with a curt but not ungracious motion of the head,
+beckoned me out. I went at once and found him dismounted and standing
+upon the step.
+
+"I want to see your mother, boy," he said sharply. "Is there no one about
+who can hold my horse? Where are all the farm men?"
+
+I hesitated and stood there for a moment, awkward and confused. My
+mother's strange words concerning him were still ringing in my ears.
+Supposing she refused to come down and receive, as a visitor, the man of
+whom she had spoken such mysterious words? Nothing appeared to me more
+likely. And yet what was I to do?
+
+He watched me, as though reading my thoughts. That he was indeed doing so
+I very quickly discovered.
+
+"Quick, boy!" he said. "I am not accustomed to be kept waiting. I know as
+well as you do that I am not a welcome visitor, but your mother will see
+me, nevertheless. Call one of the men!"
+
+I passed across the garden and entered the farmyard. Jim, the waggoner,
+was there, turning over a manure-heap, and I returned with him at my
+heels. Mr. Ravenor tossed him the reins and, stooping low, followed me
+into our little sitting-room.
+
+He laid his whip upon the table and, selecting the most comfortable
+chair, sat down leisurely and crossed his legs. He was, of course,
+entirely at his ease, and was watching my discomposure with a quiet,
+mocking smile.
+
+"Now go and tell your mother that I desire to see her!" he commanded.
+
+With slow steps I turned away, and, mounting the stairs, knocked at her
+door.
+
+"Mother, there is a visitor downstairs!" I called out softly. "It is----"
+
+"I know," she answered calmly. "Go away. I shall be down in a few
+minutes."
+
+I went downstairs again and into the sitting-room, breathing more freely.
+Mr. Ravenor had not stirred, and when I entered appeared to be deep in
+thought. At the sound of my footsteps, however, his expression changed at
+once into its former impassiveness. He glanced round the room with an air
+of lazy curiosity and his half-closed eyes rested upon my little case of
+books.
+
+"What have you there?" he inquired. "Read me out the titles."
+
+I did so, with just an inkling of reluctance, for my collection was
+altogether a haphazard one, precious though it was to me. Half-way
+through he checked me.
+
+"There, that'll do!" he exclaimed, laughing softly. "This is really
+idyllic. 'Abercrombie' and 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'Jeremy Taylor' and 'Thomas
+à Kempis.' My poor boy, if you have a headpiece at all, how it must want
+oiling!"
+
+I was a little indignant at his tone and answered him quickly.
+
+"I don't know. I'm not sure that I should care for your kind of books
+very much."
+
+He arched his fine eyebrows and the smile still lingered around his lips.
+
+"Indeed! And why not? And how have you been able to divine what sort of
+books mine are, without having seen them?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I don't mean that exactly," I answered, sitting on the
+edge of the table, and thrusting my hands deep down into my trousers
+pockets, with the uncomfortable sensation that I was making a fool of
+myself. "I was judging from what you said you were last night. If study
+has only brought you to pessimism, I would rather be ignorant."
+
+"You really are a wonderfully wise boy for your years," he said, still
+smiling. "But you must remember that there are two distinct branches of
+study. One, the more popular and the more commonly recognised, leads to
+acquired knowledge--the knowledge of facts and sciences and languages;
+the other is the pure sharpening and training of the mind, by reading
+other men's thoughts and ideas and theories--in short, by becoming master
+of all the philosophical writers of all nations. Now, it is the latter
+which you would have to avoid in order to retain your present Arcadian
+simplicity; but without the former, man is scarcely above the level of an
+animal."
+
+"I think I see what you mean," I admitted. "I should like to be a good
+classical scholar and mathematician, and know a lot of things. It seems
+to me," I added hesitatingly, "that this sort of knowledge is quite
+sufficient to strengthen and train the mind. The other would be very
+likely to overtrain it and prove unhealthy, especially if it leads
+everyone where it has led you."
+
+"Oh, I wanted no leading!" he said lightly. "I was born a pessimist.
+Schopenhauer was my earliest friend, Voltaire my teacher, and Shelley my
+god! Matter of disposition, of course. I had too little imagination to
+care a rap about cultivating a religion, and too much to be a moralist.
+Your mother is coming at last, then?"
+
+The door opened and I looked up anxiously. The words of introduction
+which had been trembling upon my lips were unuttered. I stood as helpless
+and dumbfounded as a ploughboy, with my eyes fixed upon my mother.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+                     A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.
+
+
+That it was my mother I could not at first believe. She wore a plain dark
+dress, with a black lace kerchief about her neck; but a dress, simple
+though it was, of a style and material unlike any that I had ever before
+seen her wear. Although I knew nothing of her history, I had always
+suspected that she was of a very different station from my father's, and
+at that moment I knew it, for it seemed as though she had, of a sudden,
+made up her mind to assume her proper position. Not only were her dress
+and the fashion of arranging her hair unusual, but her manners, her
+voice, her whole bearing and appearance were utterly changed. It was as
+though she had, without the slightest warning, dropped the mask of long
+years, and stepped back, like a flash, into the personality which
+belonged to her.
+
+Nor was this the only change. A slight pink flush had chased the leaden
+pallor from her cheeks, and her eyes, which had of late seemed dull and
+heavy, were full of sparkling light and suppressed animation. Her
+manners, as well as her personal appearance, all bore witness to some
+startling metamorphosis. I was more than astonished; I was thunderstruck.
+What seemed to me most wonderful was that a visit from the man against
+whom she had so solemnly and passionately cautioned me should thus have
+galvanised her into another state of being.
+
+Mr. Ravenor rose at her entrance and bowed with the easy grace of a man
+of the world. My mother returned his greeting with a stately
+self-possession which matched his own; but it struck me, watching them
+both closely, that, while he was perfectly collected, she was in reality
+far from being so. I could see the delicate white fingers of her left
+hand fold themselves convulsively around the lace handkerchief which she
+was carrying, and when she entered a shiver--gone in a moment and
+perceptible only to me, because my eyes were fastened upon her--shook her
+slim, lithe figure.
+
+But in the few commonplace remarks which first passed between them there
+was nothing in speech or manner that betrayed the least embarrassment.
+She answered him as one of his own order, graciously, yet just allowing
+him to see that his visit was a surprise to her and that she expected him
+to declare its purpose. I have dwelt somewhat upon this meeting for
+reasons which will be sufficiently apparent when I have finished my
+story.
+
+After a few remarks about the farm, the crops, and the favourable
+weather, he gave the wished-for explanation.
+
+"I have come to say a few words to you about your son, Mrs. Morton," he
+began abruptly.
+
+She and I looked equally astonished.
+
+"I am a man of few words," he continued. "The few which I desire to say
+upon this subject had better be said, I think, to you alone, Mrs.
+Morton."
+
+I would have left the room at once, but my mother prevented me. She laid
+a trembling hand upon my shoulder, and drew me closer to her.
+
+"You can have nothing to say to me, Mr. Ravenor, which it would not be
+better for him to hear, especially as you say that it concerns him."
+
+He shrugged his high, square shoulders, as though indifferent; but I
+fancied, nevertheless, that a shade of annoyance lingered in his face for
+a moment.
+
+"Very good!" he said shortly. "Rumour may have told you, Mrs. Morton, if
+you ever listen to such things, that I am a very wicked man. Possibly! I
+don't deny it! At any rate, I am, by disposition and custom, profoundly
+selfish. I owe to your son a luxury--that of having found my thoughts
+withdrawn from myself for a few minutes--with me a most rare event.
+
+"I met him last evening and talked with him. He talked like a fool, it is
+true, but that has nothing to do with it. Afterwards I thought of him
+again; wondered what you were going to do with him; remembered--pardon
+me!--that you must be poor; and remembered, also, that you have suffered
+through a servant of mine."
+
+He paused. For nearly half a minute they looked one another in the
+face--my mother and this man. There was something in her rapt, fascinated
+gaze, and in the keen, brilliant light which flashed from his dark eyes
+as he returned it, which seemed strange to me. It was like a challenge
+offered and accepted--a duel in which neither was vanquished, for neither
+flinched.
+
+"It occurred to me then," he continued calmly, "to call and ask you what
+you intended doing with him, and to plead, as excuses for the suggestion
+which I am about to make, the reasons which I have just stated. I am a
+rich man, as you know, and the money would be nothing to me. I wish to be
+allowed to defray the expenses of finishing your son's education."
+
+It seemed to me a magnificently generous offer, but a very simple one. I
+could not understand the agitation and apparent indecision which it
+caused my mother. Her prompt refusal I could have understood, although it
+would have been a blow to me. But this mixture of horror and
+consternation, of emotion and dismay, I could make nothing of. The
+feeling which I had imagined would surely be manifested--gratitude--was
+conspicuous by its absence. What did it all mean?
+
+My mother sat down and Mr. Ravenor leaned back in his armchair,
+apparently content to wait for her decision. I moved across the room to
+her side and took her cold fingers into mine.
+
+"Mother," I cried, with glowing cheeks and voice trembling with
+eagerness, "what is the matter? Why do you not say 'yes'? You know how I
+have wanted to go to college! There is no reason why you should not
+consent, is there?"
+
+Mr. Ravenor smiled--a very slight movement of the lips.
+
+"If your mother considers your interests at all," he said calmly, "she
+will certainly consent."
+
+I was about to speak, but my mother looked up and I checked the words on
+my lips.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor," she said quietly, "I accept your offer and I thank you for
+it. That is all I can say."
+
+"Quite enough," he remarked nonchalantly.
+
+"But there is one thing I should like you to understand," she added,
+looking up at him. "I consent, it is true; but, had it not been for
+another reason, far more powerful with me than any you have urged, I
+never should have done so. It is a reason which you do not know of--and
+which I pray that you never may know of," she added, in a lower key.
+
+He made no answer; indeed, he seemed little interested in my mother's
+words. He turned, instead, to me and read in my face all the enthusiasm
+which hers lacked. I would have spoken, but he held up his hand and
+checked me.
+
+"Only on one condition," he said coldly. "No thanks. I hate them! What I
+do for you I do to please myself. The money which it will cost me is no
+more than I have thrown away many times on the idlest passing pleasure. I
+have simply chosen to gratify a whim, and it happens that you are the
+gainer. Remember that you can best show your gratitude by silence."
+
+His words fell like drops of ice upon my impetuosity. I remained silent
+without an effort.
+
+"From what you said just now," he continued, "I learn that it has been
+your desire to perfect your education in a fashion which you could not
+have done here. Have you any distinct aims? I mean, have you any definite
+ideas as to the future?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I never dared to encourage any," I answered, truthfully enough. "I knew
+that we were poor and that I should have to think about earning my living
+soon--probably as a schoolmaster."
+
+"You mean to say, then, that you have never had any distinct
+ambitions--everything has been vague?"
+
+"Except one thing," I answered slowly. "There is one thing which I have
+always set before me to accomplish some day, but it is scarcely an
+ambition and it has nothing to do with a career."
+
+"Tell it to me!" he commanded.
+
+I did so, without hesitation, looking him full in the face with
+heightened colour, but speaking with all the determination which I felt
+in my heart.
+
+"I have made up my mind that some day I will find the man Francis--the
+man who murdered my father!"
+
+He was silent. I could almost have fancied that he was in some measure
+moved by my words, and the refined beauty of his dark face was heightened
+for a moment by the strange, sad look which flashed across it. Then he
+rose and took up his riding-whip from the table.
+
+"A boyish enthusiasm," he remarked contemptuously, as he made his way
+towards the door. "Where the cleverest detectives in England have failed,
+you hope to succeed. Well, I wish you success. The rascal deserves to
+swing, certainly. You will hear further from me in a day or two.
+Good-morning!"
+
+He left the room abruptly and I followed him, stepping bareheaded out
+into the sunshine to look about for Jim, who was leading his horse up and
+down the road.
+
+When I returned, Mr. Ravenor was still standing upon the doorstep
+watching me intently.
+
+"I am going back to speak to your mother for a moment," he said slowly,
+withdrawing his eyes from my face at last. "No; stop where you are!" he
+added imperatively. "I wish to speak to her alone."
+
+I obeyed him and wandered about the orchard until I saw him come out and
+gallop furiously away across the park. Then I hurried into the house.
+
+"Mother!" I exclaimed, calling out to her before I had opened the door of
+the parlour--"mother, what do you--"
+
+I stopped short and hurried to her side, alarmed at her appearance. Her
+cheeks, even her lips, were ashen pale and her eyes were closed. She had
+fainted in her chair.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+                          AN ABODE OF MYSTERY.
+
+
+For the first time in my life I was on my way to Ravenor Castle, summoned
+there by a brief, imperious note from Mr. Ravenor. Often had I looked
+longingly from the distant hills of the park upon its grey, rugged towers
+and mighty battlements; but I had never dared to clamber over the high
+wall into the inner grounds, nor even to make my way up the servants'
+drive to win a closer acquaintance with it.
+
+One reason why I had abstained from doing what, on the face of it, would
+seem a very natural thing to do, was a solemn promise to my mother,
+extracted from me almost as soon as I was able to get about by myself,
+never to pass within that great boundary-wall which completely encircled
+the inner grounds and wardens of the castle. But, apart from that, the
+thing would have been impossible for me, in any case.
+
+I have already said that Mr. Ravenor bore the character of being a
+remarkably eccentric man. Perhaps one of the most striking manifestations
+of this eccentricity lay in the rigid seclusion in which he chose to live
+while at the Castle, and the extraordinary precautions which he had taken
+to prevent all intruders and visitors of every sort from obtaining access
+to him.
+
+From the outer part there was indeed no attempt to exclude anyone
+belonging to the neighbourhood who chose to ramble about there, and in
+Mr. Ravenor's absence visitors who had obtained permission from the
+steward were occasionally permitted to drive through; but to the grounds
+and the Castle itself access was simply an impossibility. Had Ravenor
+Castle been the abode of a sovereign, and the country around in
+possession of a hostile people, the precautions could scarcely have been
+more rigorous.
+
+The high stone wall, which encircled the Castle and gardens for a circuit
+of three-quarters of a mile, effectually shut them off from the outside
+world. The postern-gates with which it was pierced were of solid iron,
+and the locks which secured them were said to have been fashioned by a
+Hindoo whom Mr. Ravenor had once brought home with him from India, and to
+be perfectly unique in their design and workmanship. The two main
+carriage entrances, about half a mile apart, were remarkable for nothing
+but the fine proportions of the towering iron gates; but they were always
+kept jealously locked and barred, and the fate of the uninvited guest who
+presented himself there was inevitable. There was no admittance.
+
+The afternoon was drawing towards a close when I turned the last corner
+of the winding avenue and approached the entrance. It had been a wild,
+blustering day; but just before I started from home the wind had dropped
+and a watery sun, feebly piercing the masses of heavy clouds with which
+the sky was strewn, was shining down, with a wan, unnatural glow, upon
+the clumps of fir-trees on either side of the way and the massive,
+frowning towers of the Castle close above me.
+
+Under foot and around me everything was wet. With the faintest stir of
+the dying breeze showers of raindrops fell from shrubs and trees, and at
+every step my feet sank into the soft, soaked gravel, or sent the
+moisture bubbling up from the layers of rotten leaves and twigs which the
+morning's gale had scattered along the road.
+
+It was an afternoon to damp anyone's spirits; and it was perhaps to the
+influence of the weather that I owed the sudden sinking of heart and
+courage which came over me as I slackened my pace before the grim-looking
+lodges and barred gate. I had started from home, notwithstanding my
+mother's white face and nervous, trembling manner, in a state of
+pleasurable excitement.
+
+I was about to penetrate into a mystery which had been the curiosity of
+my boyhood; I was to become one of those favoured few who had been
+permitted to pass within the portals of Ravenor Castle; and, more than
+that, I was about to visit there as the guest of a man whose marvellous
+reputation, personality, and career had kindled within me an almost
+passionate reverence--a man who had long been the object of my devoted,
+although boyish and unreasonable, hero-worship. Yet, though it would seem
+that I had everything to gain and nothing to fear or lose from the coming
+interview, no sooner had I arrived within sight of my destination than my
+spirits sank to zero.
+
+A woman would have called it a presentiment and have accepted it with
+mute despair. To me it seemed only an unreasonable reaction from my
+previous state of suppressed excitement--a feeling to be crushed at any
+cost, lest I should stand, with gloomy, unthankful face, before the man
+in whose power it lay to raise me from my present distasteful position
+and prospects. So I threw my head back and quickened my steps, keeping
+resolutely before me in my thoughts all that I had ventured to hope from
+my forthcoming interview; and by the time I stood before the great iron
+gates and stretched out my hand to ring the bell, the depression had
+almost passed away, and the eagerness which I felt was, no doubt, fully
+reflected m my countenance.
+
+I had no need to ring. My last quick footstep had fallen upon a harder
+substance than the gravel upon which I had been walking, and the contact
+of my feet with it made my presence known in a manner which surprised me
+not a little. There was a shrill ringing from the lodge door on my right,
+and almost simultaneously it opened and a servant came out in the dark
+Ravenor livery.
+
+"Will you be so good, sir, as to step off the planking?" he said.
+
+I moved a yard or two backwards, and the bell--it was an electric bell,
+of course--instantly ceased. It was my first experience of any such means
+of communication, and I stood for a moment looking down in some
+bewilderment.
+
+"Your name and business, sir?" the man inquired respectfully. "Did you
+wish to see Mr. Clemson?" Mr. Clemson was the steward.
+
+"My name is Morton, and my business is with Mr. Ravenor," I answered. "I
+want to see him."
+
+"I am afraid that Mr. Ravenor will not be able to see you, sir," he said.
+"Have you an appointment?"
+
+"Yes; for five o'clock," I answered. And the words had scarcely left my
+lips before the first stroke of the hour boomed out from the great Castle
+clock. Perhaps, more than anything else could have done, that sound
+brought home to me the realisation of where I was. Hour after hour, all
+through my life, from the depths of Rothland Wood, from the home meadows,
+or in my long rambles over the far-away Barnwood Hills, I had heard those
+deep, throbbing chimes; sometimes faint and low, when the wind bore the
+sound away from me, sometimes harsh and piercing in the storm, and often
+as dear and distinct as though only a sheet of water stretched between
+us. And now I stood almost within a stone's throw of them, and marvelled
+no longer that the deep, resounding notes should travel so far over hill
+and moor that I had never yet been able to wander out of hearing of them.
+
+The man accepted my explanation after a moment's hesitation, and,
+standing aside from the doorway out of which he had issued, motioned me
+to enter. I did so and received a fresh surprise. Instead of finding
+myself in the home of one of the servants of the estate, which would have
+seemed the natural thing, I found myself in a most luxuriously furnished
+waiting-room, hung with mirrors and oak-framed paintings upon a dark
+panelled wall. My feet sank into a thick carpet, and I subsided, a little
+dazed, into a low, crimson velvet chair, and found beside me a table
+covered with magazines.
+
+The man followed me into the room, and, as he passed on his way to its
+upper end, he wheeled towards me a smaller table on which were decanters
+and glasses and a long box of cigarettes. Scarcely glancing at them, I
+watched him unlock a tall cupboard and half vanish inside it.
+
+He remained there for a space of almost five minutes. Then he stepped
+out, carefully locked it and advanced towards me. I fancied that there
+was a shade more respect in his manner and certainly some surprise.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor's servant will be here in a few minutes, sir, to show you
+the way to the Castle."
+
+I thought that I could have found it very well by myself, but, of course,
+I could not say so. I occupied myself by examining the contents of the
+room, and struggled for a few moments between a feeling of strong
+curiosity and a natural disinclination to ask questions of a servant,
+especially one whose manner seemed so little to invite them. Finally the
+former conquered.
+
+"How did you find that out without leaving this room?" I asked.
+
+He pointed to the cupboard.
+
+"We have a telephone there in connection with the Castle, sir," he
+explained. Then he busied himself arranging some papers on a table at the
+other end of the apartment, with the obvious air of not desiring to be
+questioned further.
+
+The explanation was so simple that I smiled. I began to realise the very
+insufficient causes which had given rise to the stories which were always
+floating about concerning the mystery in which the master of Ravenor
+Castle chose to dwell. What more natural than that a man of liberal
+education, with a passion for absolute solitude, should seek to insure it
+by some such means as these, by the application of very simple scientific
+devices, common enough in a city, but unheard of in our quiet country
+neighbourhood?
+
+I was kept waiting for about a quarter of an hour. Then the door was
+opened noiselessly from without and a tall, dark man, clean-shaven and
+dressed in black, relieved by an immaculate white tie, entered and looked
+at me. I rose to my feet and threw down the magazine which I had been
+pretending to read.
+
+"You are Mr. Morton?" he inquired, in a subdued tone, glancing steadily
+at me the while with somewhat puzzled, criticising gaze, which, perhaps
+unreasonably, annoyed me extremely. It was an annoyance which I took
+pains not to show, however, for something about the personality of the
+man impressed me. His manner, though studiously respectful, was not
+without a certain quiet dignity, and his thin oval face--thin almost to
+emaciation--had in it more than a suspicion of refinement. My first
+glance, whilst I was undergoing his brief scrutiny, assured me that this
+was no ordinary servant.
+
+"That is my name," I answered. "You have come to take me to Mr. Ravenor?"
+
+"If you will be so good as to follow me, sir."
+
+I took up my cap and did so, taking long, swinging strides up the steep
+ascent, hoping thereby to gain his side and ask him a few questions about
+the place. But he prevented this by hurrying on when I was close behind
+him; so, after the third attempt I gave it up, and contented myself by
+looking around me as much as I could, and making the most of the short
+walk.
+
+On one side of the drive--I had been along few highways as wide--was a
+tall yew hedge, which shut out little from my view, for the thick black
+pine-wood which overtopped and formed so striking a background to the
+grand old Castle had never been thinned in this direction, and stretched
+away in a wide, irregular belt, skirting the long line of out-buildings
+to the hills and beyond. But on the right hand only a low ring-fence
+separated us from the grounds immediately in front of the Castle, which a
+sudden bend in the sharply winding road brought into full view.
+
+My absolute ignorance of architecture forbids my attempting to describe
+it, save in its general effect. I remember even now what that effect was
+upon me when I stood for the first time almost at its foot. At a distance
+its frowning battlements and worn grey turrets had a majestic appearance;
+but, standing as I did then, within a few hundred yards of its vast,
+imposing front, and almost under the shadow of its walls and towers, its
+effect was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
+
+I almost held my breath as I gazed upon it and the terrace lawns, sloping
+away below, smooth-shaven, velvetty, the very perfection of English turf.
+Not that I had much time to look about me. On the contrary, my conductor
+never once slackened his pace, and when I involuntarily paused for a
+moment, with eyes riveted upon the magnificent pile before me, he looked
+round sharply and beckoned me impatiently to proceed.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor is not used to be kept waiting, sir," he remarked, "and will
+be expecting us."
+
+I pulled myself together with an effort and followed him more closely. We
+passed under a bridge of solid masonry, moss-encrusted, and indented with
+the storms of ages and the ruder marks of battering-ram and cannon,
+across a wide, circular courtyard protected by massive iron gates, which
+rolled slowly open before us with many ponderous creakings and gratings,
+as though reluctant to admit a stranger, into a great, white, stone-paved
+hall, dimly lighted, yet sufficiently so to enable me to perceive the
+long rows of armoured warriors which lined the walls, and the lances and
+spears and shields which flashed above their heads.
+
+We passed straight across it, our footsteps awakening clattering echoes
+as they fell on the polished flags, through a door on the opposite side,
+into a room which nearly took my breath away. From the high, vaulted
+ceiling to the floor, on every side of the apartment, were books--nothing
+but books.
+
+Two men--one old, the other of about my own age--looked up from a table
+as we entered and paused in their work, which seemed to be cataloguing;
+but my guide passed them without remark or notice, and walked straight
+across the room to where a crimson curtain, hanging down in thick folds,
+concealed a black oak door. Here he knocked, and I waited by his side
+until the answer came in that clear, low tone, which, though I had heard
+it but once or twice before, I could have recognised in a thousand. Then
+my guide turned the handle and, silently motioning me to enter, left me.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+                               MR. MARX.
+
+
+At first I had eyes only for the dark figure seated a few yards away from
+me at a small writing-table drawn into the centre of the room. He was
+bending low over his desk and never even raised his eyes or ceased
+writing at my entrance. Before him on the table, and scattered around his
+chair on the floor, were many sheets of white foolscap covered with his
+broad, firm handwriting, some with the ink scarcely dry upon them; and
+while I stood before him he impatiently swept another one from his desk
+and, without waiting to see it flutter to the ground, began a fresh
+sheet.
+
+A glass of water, a few dry biscuits, and a little pile of books--some
+turned face-downwards--were by his side. Nothing else was on the table,
+save a great pile of unused paper, a watch detached from its chain, and a
+heavily-shaded lamp, which threw a ghastly light upon his white, worn
+face, and his dry, brilliant eyes, under which were faintly engraven the
+dark rims of the student.
+
+I watched him for a while, fascinated. Then, as he took not the slightest
+notice of me, my eyes began to wander round the room. It was hexagonal
+and, on every side save one, lined from the floor to the high ceiling
+with books. The furniture was all of black oak, as also were the
+bookshelves, and the carpet and hangings were of a deep olive-green. The
+mantelpiece and inlaid grate were of black marble, faintly relieved with
+gold, and within the polished bars of the grate a small fire was burning.
+
+There was nothing cheerful about the apartment; on the contrary, it
+struck me as being, though magnificent, sombre and heavy, wrapped as it
+was in the gloom of a dismal twilight, which the flickering fire and the
+shaded lamp failed to pierce. From the high French windows, I could catch
+a glimpse of a long stretch of soddened lawn, beyond which everything was
+shrouded in the semi-obscurity of the fast-falling dusk, deepened by the
+grey, cloudy sky. But I chose, after my first glance around the room, to
+keep my eyes fixed upon the man who sat writing before me, the man in
+whom already I felt an interest so strong as to deaden all the curiosity
+which I might otherwise have felt as to my surroundings.
+
+At last he seemed conscious of my presence. Lifting his eyes, to give
+them a momentary rest, he encountered my fixed gaze. For a moment he
+looked at me in a puzzled manner, as though wondering how I came there.
+Then his expression changed and, putting down his pen, he pushed his
+papers away from him.
+
+"So you have come, Philip Morton," he said.
+
+To so self-evident a statement I could return no answer, save a brief
+affirmative. He seemed to expect nothing more, however.
+
+"How old did you say you were?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Seventeen, sir."
+
+It was quite five minutes before he spoke again, during which time he sat
+with knitted brows and eyes fixed intently but absently upon me, deep in
+thought, and thought of which it seemed to me somehow that I must be the
+subject.
+
+"Where were you born?"
+
+"At the farm, sir--at least, I suppose so."
+
+It flashed into my mind at that moment that I had never heard the period
+of my earliest childhood spoken of either by my father or mother. But it
+was only a passing thought, dismissed almost as soon as conceived. Had we
+not always lived at the farm? Where else could I have been born?
+
+"Do you know any of your mother's relations?" Mr. Ravenor asked, taking
+no notice of the qualifying addition to my previous answer.
+
+I shook my head. I had never seen or heard of any of them, and it was a
+circumstance upon which I had more than once pondered. But my mother's
+reserved demeanour towards me of late years had checked many questions
+which I might otherwise have felt inclined to ask her. There was a brief
+silence, during which Mr. Ravenor sat with his face half turned away from
+me, resting it lightly upon the long, delicate fingers of his left hand.
+
+"You are a little young for college," he said presently, in a more
+matter-of-fact tone; "besides which, I doubt whether you are quite
+advanced enough. I have decided, therefore, to send you for two years to
+a clergyman in Lincolnshire who receives a few pupils, my own nephew
+among them. He is a friend of mine, and will give some shape to your
+studies. There are one or two things which I shall ask you to remember
+when you get there," he went on.
+
+"First, that this little arrangement between your mother, yourself, and
+me remains absolutely a secret among us. Also that you seek, or, at any
+rate, do not refuse, the friendship of my nephew, Cecil, Lord Silchester.
+From what I can learn I fear that he is behaving in a most unsatisfactory
+manner, and, as I know him to be weak-minded and easily led, his
+behaviour at present and his character in the future are to a great
+extent dependent upon the influence which his immediate companions may
+have over him. You understand me?"
+
+I assented silently, for words at that moment were not at my command; my
+cheeks were flushed, and my heart was beating with pleasure at the
+confidence in me which Mr. Ravenor's words implied. That moment was one
+of the sweetest of my life.
+
+"I do not, of course, wish you to play the spy in any way upon my
+nephew," Mr. Ravenor continued, "but I shall expect you to tell me the
+unbiassed truth should I at any time ask you any questions concerning
+him; and if you think, after you have been there some time and have had
+an opportunity of judging, that he would be likely to do better
+elsewhere, under stricter discipline than at Dr. Randall's, I shall
+expect you to tell me so. In plain words, Philip Morton, I ask you to
+take an interest in and look after my nephew."
+
+"I will do my best, sir," I answered fervently.
+
+"A youthful Mentor, very!"
+
+The words, accompanied by something closely resembling a sneer, came from
+neither Mr. Ravenor nor myself. Either a third person must have been in
+the room before my arrival and during the whole of our conversation, or
+he must have entered it since by some means unknown to me, for almost at
+my elbow, on the side remote from the door, stood the man who had broken
+in, without apology or explanation, upon our interview.
+
+Both from the strange manner of his attire and on account of his
+personality, I could not repress a strong curiosity in the new-comer. He
+was above the average height, but of awkward and ungainly figure, its
+massiveness enhanced by the long black dressing-gown which was wrapped
+loosely around him. His hair and beard were of a deep reddish hue, the
+former partly concealed by a black silk skull-cap, and he wore thick blue
+spectacles, which by no means added to the attractiveness of his face;
+his features--those which were visible--were good, but their effect was
+completely spoilt by the disfiguring glasses and his curious complexion.
+There was an air of power about him difficult to analyse, but
+sufficiently apparent, which altogether redeemed him from coarseness, or
+even mediocrity; and his voice, too, was good. But my impressions
+concerning him were very mixed ones.
+
+He was evidently someone of account in the household, for he stood on the
+hearthrug with his hands thrust into his loose pockets, completely at his
+ease, and without making any apology for his unceremonious appearance.
+When I first turned to look at him he was examining me with a cold,
+critical stare, which made me feel uncomfortable without knowing why.
+
+"Who is the young gentleman?" he asked, turning to Mr. Ravenor. "Won't
+you introduce me?"
+
+Mr. Ravenor took up some papers lying on the table before him and began
+to sort them.
+
+"It is Philip Morton, the son of the man who was murdered in Rothland
+Wood," he answered quietly. "I am going to undertake his education."
+
+"Indeed! You're becoming quite a philanthropist," was the reply. "But why
+not send him to a public school at once?"
+
+"Because a public school would be just the worst place for him," Mr.
+Ravenor answered coldly. "His education has been good enough up to now, I
+dare say, but it has not been systematic. It wants shape and proportion,
+and Dr. Randall is just the man to see to that."
+
+The new-comer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I don't believe in private tutors," he remarked.
+
+"That scarcely affects the question," Mr. Ravenor answered, a little
+haughtily. "Are you ready for me, Marx?"
+
+"I shall be presently. I had very nearly finished when the sound of
+voices tempted me out to see whom you had admitted into your august
+presence. You have not completed the introduction."
+
+Mr. Ravenor turned to me with a slight frown upon his fine forehead.
+
+"Morton," he said, "this is Mr. Marx, my private secretary and
+collaborator."
+
+We exchanged greetings, and I looked at him with revived interest. The
+man who was worthy to work with Mr. Ravenor must be a scholar indeed,
+and, on the whole, Mr. Marx looked it. I almost forgave him his
+supercilious speech and patronising manner.
+
+"You have quite settled, then, to send this young man to Dr. Randall's?"
+Mr. Marx said calmly.
+
+"I have. There are one or two more matters which I have not yet mentioned
+to him, so I shall be glad to see you again in half an hour," Mr. Ravenor
+remarked, glancing at his watch.
+
+Mr. Marx nodded to me in a not unfriendly manner, and, lifting a curtain,
+which I had not noticed before, disappeared into a smaller apartment.
+
+Mr. Ravenor waited until he was out of hearing and then turned towards
+me.
+
+"I do not know whether it is necessary for me to mention it, as you may
+possibly not come into contact again," he said slowly; "but in case you
+should do so, remember this: I wish you to have as little to do with Mr.
+Marx as possible. You--"
+
+He broke off suddenly and I started and looked round, half amazed, half
+frightened. The continuous sound of an electric-bell, which seemed to
+come from within a few feet of me, was echoing through the room.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+                            LADY SILCHESTER.
+
+
+Mr. Ravenor sat like a man stunned by a sudden shock, while the shrill
+ringing grew more and more imperative. Then suddenly, when I least
+expected it, he spoke, and the fact that his calm, even tone betrayed not
+the slightest sign of agitation or anything approaching to it, was a
+great relief to me. After all, his silence might have meant indifference.
+
+"Go over there," he said, pointing to the corner of the room from which
+the sound came.
+
+I did so and saw just before me what seemed to be a dark mahogany box let
+into the wall.
+
+"Touch that knob," he commanded, "and put your ear to the tube."
+
+I had scarcely done so when a quick, agitated voice, which I recognised
+as the voice of the man who had admitted me at the lodge gate, began
+speaking. I repeated his words to Mr. Ravenor.
+
+"I am very sorry, sir; but while I stepped in here to announce her, Lady
+Silchester has driven through. She is alone."
+
+Mr. Ravenor made no sign of annoyance or surprise. I could not tell
+whether the news was a relief to him, or the reverse.
+
+"Is there any answer, sir?" I inquired.
+
+"Yes. Tell him to come to the steward for his wages in an hour's time and
+be prepared to leave this evening."
+
+I hesitated and then repeated the words. Mr. Ravenor watched me keenly.
+
+"You are thinking that I am a stern master," he said abruptly.
+
+It was exactly what had been passing through my mind and I confessed it.
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I like to be obeyed implicitly, and to the letter," he said. "If a
+quarter of the people who present themselves here to see me were allowed
+to pass through to my Castle, my leisure, which is of some value to me,
+would be continually broken in upon. Anderson has been careful hitherto,
+however, and this must be a lesson to him. You can tell him as you go out
+that I will give him one more chance."
+
+I rose, with my cap in hand, but he waved me back.
+
+"I have a letter to write to your mother," he said, drawing some
+notepaper towards him. "Wait a minute or two."
+
+I strolled over to the high French windows and looked out upon the grey
+twilight. I had scarcely stood there for a moment when the sound of
+horses' feet and smoothly rolling wheels coming up the broad drive told
+me that Mr. Ravenor's visitor was at hand, and immediately afterwards a
+small brougham flashed past the window and, describing a semi-circle,
+pulled up in front of the hall door. A footman leaped down from the box
+and several servants stood on the steps and respectfully saluted the lady
+who had alighted from the carriage. A moment or two later there was a
+knock at the door.
+
+"Come in," answered Mr. Ravenor, without looking up, or even ceasing his
+writing, for I could hear the broad quill dashing away without a pause
+over the notepaper.
+
+A servant threw open the door and announced "Lady Silchester," and a tall
+woman, wrapped from head to foot in dark brown furs, swept past him and
+entered the room.
+
+A single glance at the slim, majestic figure, and at the classical
+outline of her face, told me who she was and told me rightly. It was Mr.
+Ravenor's sister.
+
+Mr. Ravenor rose and, without putting his pen down, welcomed Lady
+Silchester with cold, frigid courtesy, which she seemed determined,
+however, not to notice.
+
+"Quite an unexpected visit, this, isn't it?" she exclaimed, sinking into
+an easy chair before the fire with a little shiver. "I never was so cold!
+These autumn mists are awful, and I've had a twelve-mile drive. What a
+dreary room you have made of this!" she added, looking round with a
+little shrug of her shoulders and putting her hands farther into her
+muff. "How can you sit here in this ghostly light with only one lamp--and
+such a fire, too?"
+
+He smiled grimly, but it was not a smile which heralded any increase of
+geniality in his manner.
+
+"I am not in the habit of receiving ladies here," he remarked, "and I did
+not expect you. Where have you come from? I thought you were in Rome."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I wish we were. We came back last week and I went straight down to the
+Cedars--Tom's place at Melton, you know. I don't think I've been warm
+since I landed in England. Just now I'm nearly frozen to death."
+
+"I think you would find one of the rooms in the other wing more
+comfortable," he said, after a short pause; "besides which I am engaged
+at present. You dine here, of course?"
+
+"By all means," she answered. "You wouldn't send me back to Melton
+dinnerless, would you, even if I have come without an invitation? I am
+dying for a cup of tea."
+
+"Mrs. Ross shall send you anything you want," he said. "I will ring for
+her."
+
+She rose and shook out her skirts. Her eyes fell upon me.
+
+"You have a visitor," she remarked. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."
+
+She looked at me fixedly as I moved a few steps forward out of the deep
+shadows which hung about the further end of the apartment. Then she
+turned from me to Mr. Ravenor, who was holding open the door for her. He
+met her gaze steadily, with a calm, inquiring look in his deep eyes, as
+though wondering why she lingered.
+
+"Won't you introduce your visitor?" she asked slowly.
+
+He appeared wishful for her to go, yet resigned.
+
+"Certainly," he answered, "if you wish it. Cecilia, let me present to you
+Mr. Philip Morton, the son of a former neighbour of mine. You may be
+interested to hear that Mr. Morton is about to complete his education
+with Dr. Randall. Morton, this is my sister, Lady Silchester."
+
+Lady Silchester held up a pair of gold eye-glasses and looked at me
+steadily. I was not used to ladies, but Lady Silchester's manner did not
+please me, and, after a very slight bow, I drew myself up and returned
+her gaze without flinching. She turned abruptly away.
+
+"Yes, I am interested--a little surprised," she said, in a peculiar tone.
+"Let me congratulate you, my dear brother, on----"
+
+"Did I understand you to say that you would be ready in a quarter of an
+hour, Cecilia?" he interrupted calmly. "Permit me to order your horses to
+be put up." And he moved across the room towards the bell and rang it.
+
+She hesitated, bit her lip, and turned towards the door without another
+word. A servant stood upon the threshold, summoned by the bell.
+
+"Let Mrs. Ross attend Lady Silchester at once," Mr. Ravenor ordered. "Her
+ladyship will take tea in her room, and will dine with me in the library
+at half-past eight."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+The door was closed and we were alone again. Mr. Ravenor returned to his
+letter, with his lips slightly parted in a quiet smile. I stood still,
+hot and uncomfortable, wondering in what possible manner I could have
+offended Lady Silchester. The meaning of the little scene which had just
+taken place was beyond my comprehension. But I knew that it had a
+meaning, and that I was somehow concerned in it.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+                         THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.
+
+
+The letter which Mr. Ravenor had been writing to my mother was finished
+and sealed at last. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked steadily
+at me.
+
+"I shall not see you again before you go, Philip Morton," he said, "so I
+wish to impress upon you once more what I said to you about my nephew,
+who is Lady Silchester's son, by-the-bye. I know that he is going on
+badly, but I wish to know how badly. Unfortunately, he has no father,
+and, from what I can remember of him, I should imagine that he is quite
+easily led, and would be very amenable to the influence of a stronger
+mind. If yours should be that mind--and I do not see why it should
+not--it will be well for him. That delightfully Utopian optimism of yours
+is, at any rate, healthy," he added dryly.
+
+I felt my cheeks burn and would have spoken, but Mr. Ravenor checked me.
+
+"Let there be no misunderstanding between us," he said. "I desire no
+gratitude from you and I deserve none. What I am doing I am doing for my
+own gratification--perhaps for my own ultimate advantage. That you are a
+gainer by it is purely a matter of chance. The whim might just as well
+have been the other way. I might have taken a fancy to have you turned
+out of the place and, if so, I would have done it. On the whole, it is I
+who should be grateful to you for not baulking me in my scheme and for
+letting me have my own way. So understand, please, after this
+explanation, that I shall look upon any expression of gratitude from you
+as a glaring mark of imbecility, apart from which it will annoy me
+exceedingly."
+
+I listened in silence. What could one reply to such a strange way of
+putting a case? Mr. Ravenor's manner forbade any doubt as to his
+seriousness and I could only respect his wishes.
+
+"As you won't let me thank you, sir, I think I'd better go," I said
+bluntly. "I'm sure to forget if I stay here much longer."
+
+"A good discipline for you to stay, then," he answered.
+
+Again the tinkle of the telephone bell rang out from the corner and
+interrupted his speech. Mr. Ravenor motioned me towards it.
+
+"Go and hear what it is and repeat it to me," he said.
+
+I put my ear to the tube and repeated the words as they came:
+
+"A man desires to see you, sir, but refuses to give his name. I have told
+him that it is quite useless my communicating with you without it; but he
+is persistent and refuses to go away. He is respectably dressed, but
+rather rough-looking."
+
+Mr. Ravenor shrugged his shoulders and took up his pen, as though about
+to resume his writing.
+
+"Tell him to go to the deuce!" he said briefly.
+
+I repeated the message faithfully, but its recipient was evidently not
+satisfied. In less than a minute the bell sounded again.
+
+"His name is Richards, sir--or, rather, he says he is known to you by
+that name--and he is very emphatic about seeing you--and, begging your
+pardon, sir, a little insolent. He says that his business is of the
+utmost importance."
+
+I repeated the message and stood as though turned to stone. Was my fancy
+playing tricks with me in the dimly-lit room, or had Mr. Ravenor's face
+really become ghastly and livid, like the face of a man who sees the
+phantom shadows of a hideous nightmare passing before his fixed gaze? I
+closed my eyes for a moment's relief and looked again. Surely it had been
+fancy! Mr. Ravenor was writing with only a slight frown upon his calm,
+serene face.
+
+"Let Mr. Richards--or whatever the fellow's name is--be given to
+understand that I distinctly refuse to see him," he said quietly. "If he
+has any business with me he can write."
+
+I repeated this and then took up my cap to go. Mr. Ravenor put down his
+pen and walked with me to the door. I had expected that he would have
+offered me his hand, but he did not. He nodded, kindly enough and held
+the door open while I passed out. So I went.
+
+As I walked across the great hall on my way out I came face to face with
+Lady Silchester, who was thoughtfully contemplating one of a long line of
+oil-paintings dark with age, yet vivid still with the marvellous
+colouring of an old master. To my surprise she stopped me.
+
+"Are you a judge of pictures, Mr. Morton?" she asked. "I was wondering
+whether that was a genuine Reynolds." And she pointed to the picture
+which she had been examining.
+
+I shook my head, briefly acknowledging that I knew nothing whatever about
+them. I was quite conscious at the time that the question was only a
+feint. What was a farmer's son likely to know of the old masters?
+
+"Ah, never mind!" she remarked, shutting up her eyeglasses with a snap.
+"I can ask Mr. Ravenor this evening. I thought, perhaps, that as you were
+here so often he might have talked to you about them. I know that he is
+very proud of his pictures."
+
+"Had I been here often he might have done so," I answered. "As it
+happens, however, this is my first visit to Ravenor Castle."
+
+"Indeed? And yet Mr. Ravenor seems to take a great interest in you. Why?"
+
+I hesitated and wished that I could get away; but Lady Silchester was
+standing immediately in front of me.
+
+"Your ladyship will pardon me," I said, "but might not your question be
+better addressed to Mr. Ravenor?"
+
+She bit her lip and moved haughtily to one side. I made a movement as
+though to pass her, but she turned suddenly and prevented me.
+
+"Mr. Morton," she said, a little nervously, "my brother said that you
+were going to Dr. Randall's, I believe?"
+
+I admitted that such was the fact.
+
+"I daresay you know that my son is there," she continued, "and I am
+afraid he's not behaving exactly as he should. Of course, we don't hear
+anything definite; but Cecil is very good-natured, easily led into
+anything, and I am a little doubtful about his companions there. Now, Mr.
+Morton, you're not much more than a boy yourself, of course; but you
+don't look as though you would care for the sort of thing that I'm afraid
+Cecil gets led into. I do wish that you and he could be friends, and
+that--that--"
+
+She broke off, as though expecting me to say something, and I felt a
+little awkward.
+
+"It's very kind of you to think so well of me, when you don't know
+anything about me," I said, twirling my cap in my hands; "but you forget
+that I am only a farmer's son, and perhaps your son would not care to be
+friends with me."
+
+"My son, whatever his faults may be, has all the instincts of a
+gentleman," Lady Silchester answered proudly; "and if he liked you for
+yourself, it would make no difference, even if you were a tradesman's
+son. Promise me that, if you have the opportunity, you will do what you
+can?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I'll promise that, with pleasure!" I assured her.
+
+Lady Silchester smiled, and while the smile lasted I thought that I had
+never seen a more beautiful woman. Then she held out a delicate little
+hand, sparkling with rings, and placed it in mine, which in those days
+was as brown as a berry and not very soft.
+
+"Thank you so much, Mr. Morton."
+
+She looked up at me quite kindly for a moment. Then suddenly her manner
+completely--changed. She withdrew her eyes from my face, with a slight
+flush in her cheeks, and turned abruptly away.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Morton. I am much obliged to you for your promise,"
+she said, in a colder tone.
+
+I drew myself up, unconscious of having said or done anything which could
+possibly offend her, and feeling boyishly hurt at her change of manner.
+
+"Good evening, Lady Silchester," I answered, with all the dignity I could
+command. Then I turned away and left the Castle.
+
+I walked down the broad avenue slowly, casting many glances behind me at
+the vast, gloomy pile, around which the late evening mists were rising
+from the damp ground. Many lights were twinkling from the upper windows
+and from the east wing, where the servants' quarters were situated, but
+the lower part of the building lay in a deep obscurity, unilluminated,
+save by one faint light from Mr. Ravenor's study. There seemed something
+unnatural, almost ghostly, about the place, which chilled while it
+fascinated me.
+
+What was that? I stood suddenly still in the middle of the drive and
+listened. A faint, muffled cry, which seemed to me at first to be a human
+cry, had broken the deep evening stillness. I held my breath and remained
+quite motionless, with strained hearing. There was no repetition of it,
+no other sound. I was puzzled; more than half inclined to be alarmed. It
+might have been the crying of a hare, or the squealing of a rabbit caught
+by a stoat. But my first impression had been a strong one, improbable
+though it seemed. Poachers, however daring, would scarcely be likely to
+invade the closely-guarded inner grounds, where the preserves were fewer
+and the risk of capture far greater than outside the park. Besides, there
+had been no discharge of firearms, no commotion, no loud cries; only that
+one muffled, despairing moan. What could it mean?
+
+A steep ascent lay before me. After a moment's hesitation I hurried
+forward and did not pause until I reached the summit and had clear view
+around through the hazy twilight.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+                      A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.
+
+
+Far away below me--for Ravenor Castle stood on the highest point in the
+country--a dull-red glow in the sky, and many twinkling lights stretched
+far and wide, marked the place where a great town lay. On my right hand
+was a smooth stretch of green turf, dotted all over with thickly growing
+spreading oak trees. On the left was a straggling plantation, bounded by
+a low greystone wall, which sloped down gradually to one of the
+bracken-covered, disused slate-quarries, with which the neighbourhood
+abounded.
+
+Breathless, I stood still and looked searchingly around. Save in the
+immediate vicinity, the fast falling night had blotted out the view,
+reducing fields, woods, and rocks to one blurred chaotic mass. But where
+my eye could pierce the darkness I could see no sign of any moving
+object. By degrees my apprehension grew less strong. The cry, if it had
+not been wholly a trick of the imagination, must have been the cry of
+some animal. I drew a long breath of relief and moved forward again.
+
+Immediately in front of me the avenue curved through a small plantation
+of fir trees, which, growing thick and black on either side, made it
+appear almost as though I were confronted with a tunnel; around its mouth
+the darkness was intense, but my eyesight, always good, had by this time
+become quite accustomed to the uncertain light, and just as I was
+entering it I fancied that I could see something moving only a few yards
+in front of me. I stopped short at once and waited, peering forwards into
+the gloom with straining eyes and beating heart. My suspense, though
+keen, was not of long duration, for almost immediately the dark shape
+resolved itself into the figure of a man moving swiftly towards me.
+
+My first impulse was, I am afraid, to turn and run for it, my next to
+give the advancing figure as wide a berth as possible. With that idea I
+stepped swiftly on one side and leaned right back against the ring fence
+which bordered the drive. But I was too late, or too clumsy in my
+movements, to escape notice. With a quick, startled exclamation, the man
+whom I had nearly run into stopped and, just at that moment the moon,
+which had been struggling up from behind a thick mass of angry clouds,
+shone feebly out and showed me the white, scared face of Mr. Ravenor's
+secretary.
+
+"Good heavens!"
+
+It seemed to me as though the ejaculation was hurled out from those
+trembling lips. Then, with a sudden start, he recovered himself, and so
+changed was his manner that I could almost have fancied that his first
+emotion of terror had been imagination on my part.
+
+"Am I so formidable that you should leap out of my way as though you had
+seen a ghost?" he said, with a short laugh. "Come, come; a young man of
+your size should have more pluck than that."
+
+I felt rather ashamed of myself, but I answered him as carelessly as
+possible.
+
+"I don't think I was any more startled than you were. We came upon one
+another suddenly, and it's a very dark night."
+
+"Dark! Dark is not the word. This part of the drive is a veritable
+Hades."
+
+"By-the-bye, Mr. Marx," I remarked, "I fancied that I heard a cry a few
+min----"
+
+"A cry! What sort of a cry?" he interrupted sharply, in an altered tone.
+
+"Well, it sounded to me very much like the moan of a man in pain," I
+explained, looking half fearfully around. "Of course, it might have been
+a hare, but it was wonderfully like a human voice. Listen! Can't you hear
+something now?" I cried, laying my hand upon his arm.
+
+We stood close together in silence, listening intently. A faint wind had
+sprung up, and was sighing mournfully through the trees, which were
+soaked and weighed down by the heavy rain. Drip, drip, drip. At every
+sigh of the breeze a little shower of rain-drops fell pattering on to the
+soddened leaves and the melancholy music was resumed.
+
+It was altogether very depressing and I was palpably shivering.
+
+"I can hear nothing," he said, with chattering teeth. "It must have been
+your fancy, or a hare squealing, perhaps."
+
+"I suppose so," I admitted, glad enough to be forced into this
+conclusion.
+
+"I wouldn't say anything about it at the lodge," he remarked, preparing
+to depart. "Anderson is as nervous as a cat already."
+
+"All right, I won't. Good night."
+
+"You're not frightened, are you?" he asked. "If you like, I'll walk down
+to the lodge with you."
+
+"Not in the least, thanks," I answered, a little indignantly. "I thought
+that noise was queer, that's all. Good night."
+
+I walked swiftly away, listening all the time, but hearing no unusual
+sound. In a few minutes I reached the gates and found Anderson waiting
+about outside. He let me through at once.
+
+"May I go in here for a minute?" I asked, pointing to the room in which I
+had been kept waiting on my way up to the Castle. "I have a message to
+give you from Mr. Ravenor."
+
+"Certainly, sir," he answered, opening the door. I stepped inside, half
+expecting to see the man whom Mr. Ravenor had refused to receive; but it
+was quite empty.
+
+"So Mr. Richards has decided not to wait, after all?" I remarked, looking
+round. "He was wise. I'm sure Mr. Ravenor wouldn't have seen him."
+
+"Yes, sir," the man answered; "he slipped out without leaving any message
+or anything, while I had gone across the way for some coal. I was a bit
+taken aback when I returned and found the place empty, for he'd been
+swearing ever so a minute or two before that he'd see Mr. Ravenor, or
+stop here for ever."
+
+"He can't have gone on up to the Castle, can he?" I asked, looking
+around.
+
+The man shook his head confidently.
+
+"Impossible, sir! The gates were locked and the keys in my pocket, and
+there are no windows to this room, you see, on the Castle side."
+
+"But there is a door," I said, pointing to the upper end of the
+apartment.
+
+"Go and look at it, sir," Anderson answered, smiling.
+
+I did so and examined it closely. There were no bolts, but it was
+fastened with a particularly strong patent lock.
+
+"Who keeps the key?" I inquired.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor, sir. I haven't got one at all. You were saying something
+about a message?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Ravenor was annoyed with you for letting Lady Silchester
+through, but he has decided to overlook it this time. You need not go up
+to the Castle for your money."
+
+The man was evidently pleased.
+
+"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said warmly. "That's
+good news and no mistake. It isn't a place that one would care to lose."
+
+"Well, good night, Anderson. Oh, I say," I added, turning back on a
+sudden impulse, "how long is it since Mr. Marx was here?"
+
+Anderson looked puzzled.
+
+"Mr. Marx, sir! Why, I haven't seen him all day!"
+
+"What!" I exclaimed.
+
+"I haven't seen him all day. He hasn't been here," the man repeated.
+
+I stood still, breathless, full of swiftly rising but vague suspicions.
+
+"Not seen him to-day! Why, I met him in the avenue just now," I declared.
+
+"I daresay, sir," the man remarked quietly. "He often walks down this
+way. In fact, he does most evenings before dinner. Queer sort he is, and
+no mistake."
+
+The man's words changed the current of my thoughts, and my half-conceived
+suspicions faded away almost before they had gathered shape. I made some
+trifling remark and started homewards.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+                         THE CLOUD BETWEEN US.
+
+
+It was late when I reached home and, from the darkness in all the
+windows, I concluded that my mother and the one country domestic who
+comprised our little household had already retired. My hand was raised to
+rap at the closed door, when it occurred to me that I might just as well
+effect an entrance without disturbing anyone. Our sitting-room window
+opened on to the front garden in which I stood and was seldom fastened,
+so I stole softly over the sodden grass and pressed the sash upwards. It
+yielded easily to my touch and, gently raising myself on to the low stone
+window-sill, I vaulted into the room.
+
+At first I thought it was, as I had expected to find it, empty. But it
+was not so. Through the open window by which I had just entered the
+moonlight was streaming in, casting long, fantastic rays upon the
+well-worn carpet and across the quaint, old-fashioned furniture and on
+the white tablecloth, on which my homely evening meal had been left
+prepared. But my eyes never rested for a moment on any of these familiar
+objects, scarcely even noticed them, for another and a stranger sight
+held me spellbound. At the farther end of the room, where the shadows
+hung darkest and the moonbeams but feebly penetrated, was the kneeling
+figure of a woman.
+
+Her perfectly black dress threw the ghastly hue of her strained, wild
+face into startling prominence, and her slender arms were stretched
+passionately upwards in a gesture full of intense dramatic pathos. Her
+eyes were fixed upon a small ebony crucifix which hung against the wall,
+and the words were bursting from her white, trembling lips, but whether
+of prayer or confession, I could not, or, rather, would not, hear, for I
+closed my eyes and the sound of her voice reached me only in an
+indistinct moan. It was a sight which has lived in my memory and will
+never fade.
+
+Since that awful night in Rothland Wood, my mother's behaviour towards me
+had been a source of constant and painful wonder. She had become an
+enigma, and an enigma which I somehow felt that it would be well for me
+not to attempt to solve.
+
+But even at the times when my loveless surroundings and her coldness had
+plunged me into the lowest depths of depression, it had never been an
+altogether hopeless state, for somehow I had always felt that her
+coldness was not the coldness of indifference, but rather an effort of
+will, and that a time would come when she would cast it off and be to me
+again the mother of my earlier recollections. But the change was long in
+coming.
+
+She was a devout Roman Catholic--a religion in which I had not been
+brought up--and in all weathers and at all times of the year, she paid
+long and frequent visits to the monastery chapel over the hills. But to
+see her as she was now was a revelation to me. I had seen her pray
+before, but never like this. She had always seemed to me more of a martyr
+than a sinner and her prayers more the prayers of reverent devotion than
+of passionate supplication. But her attitude at this moment, her wild,
+haggard face, and imploring eyes, were full of revelation to me. Another
+possible explanation of her lonely, joyless life and deep religious
+devotion flashed in upon me. Might it not be the dreary expiation, the
+hard penance of her church meted out for sin?
+
+Half fearing to disturb her, I remained for a brief while silent, but, as
+the minutes went on, the sight of her agony was too much for me and I
+cried out to her:
+
+"Mother, I am here. I did not know that you were up! I came in through
+the window!"
+
+At the first sound of my appealing tones her face changed, as though
+frozen suddenly from passionate expressiveness to cold marble. Slowly she
+rose to her feet and confronted me.
+
+"Mother, are you in trouble?" I said softly, moving nearer to her;
+"cannot I share your sorrow? Cannot I comfort you? Why am I shut out of
+your life so? Tell me this great trouble of yours and let me share it."
+
+For many years I had longed to say these words to her, but the cold
+impressiveness of her manner had checked them often upon my lips and
+thrust them back to my aching heart. Now, when a great sorrow filled her
+face with a softer light and loosened for a moment its hard, rigid lines,
+I dared to yield to the impulse which I had so often felt--and, alas! in
+vain--in vain!
+
+Keener agony, deeper disappointment, I have never felt. Coldness and
+indifference had been hard to bear, but what came now was worse. She
+shrank back from me--shrank back, with her hands outstretched towards me
+and her head averted.
+
+"Philip, I did not know that you were here. I cannot talk to you now. Go
+to your room. To-morrow--to-morrow!"
+
+Her voice died away, but her sudden weakness inspired me with no hope,
+for it was a physical weakness only. There were no signs of softening in
+her face, no answering tenderness in her tones. So what could I do but
+go?
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+                     A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.
+
+
+It was eleven o'clock on the following morning. I had been reading in the
+garden for some time, and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when
+a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate, and Mr. Ravenor's
+servant--the man who had conducted me from the lodge to the Castle--was
+shown into the house. I went to him at once and he handed me a note.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir," he said respectfully.
+
+I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox commencement):
+
+"Before going to Dr. Randall's there are a few things which you are not
+likely to have which you will find necessary. Remember that it is part of
+the education which I intend for you that you should associate with the
+other pupils on equal terms. Therefore, be so good as to go into
+Torchester with Reynolds and place yourself entirely in his hands. He has
+my full instructions.--R."
+
+I folded the note up and put it into my pocket.
+
+"Am I to come with you now?" I asked.
+
+"If you please, sir."
+
+I went upstairs to get ready and in a few minutes was prepared to start.
+The groom offered me the reins, but I declined them and mounted instead
+to the vacant seat by his side, which Reynolds had silently relinquished
+to me.
+
+Torchester was scarcely a dozen miles from the farm, but, nevertheless,
+this was my first visit to it. Many a time I had looked down from Beacon
+Hill upon the wide-spreading, dirty-coloured cloud of smoke from its tall
+factory chimneys, which seemed like a marring blot upon the fair,
+peaceful stretch of country around, and by night at the dull red glow in
+the sky and the myriads of twinkling lights which showed me where it
+stood. But neither by day nor night had the scene been an attractive one
+for me. I had felt no curiosity to enter it. I had never even cared to
+figure to myself what it would be like.
+
+So now, for the first time in my life, I found myself driving through the
+streets of a large manufacturing town. It was the dinner-hour and on all
+sides the factories were disgorging streams of unhealthy-looking men and
+women and even children. The tramcars and omnibuses were crowded, the
+busy streets were lined with swiftly rolling carriages, smart-looking
+men, and gaily-dressed girls and women. Within a few yards I saw types of
+men and women so different that it seemed impossible that they could be
+of the same species.
+
+"This is the 'Bell,' sir, where we generally put up," remarked Reynolds,
+at my elbow. "You will have some lunch, sir, before we go into the town?"
+
+I shook my head, but he was quietly though respectfully insistent. So I
+let him have his way and allowed myself to be piloted into a long, dark
+coffee-room, where my orders, considerably augmented by Reynolds in
+transit, were received by a waiter whom we discovered fast asleep in an
+easy-chair, and who seemed very much surprised to see us.
+
+Afterwards we went out in the town, Reynolds and I, and began our
+shopping. I was measured at the principal tailor's for more clothes than
+it seemed possible for me to wear out in a lifetime, from riding-breeches
+to a dress-coat; and the quantity and variety of hats, boots, shirts, and
+ties which Reynolds put down as indispensable filled me with half-amused
+astonishment, although I had made up my mind to be surprised at nothing.
+But our shopping was not finished even when Reynolds, to my inexpressible
+relief, declared my wardrobe to be as complete as could be furnished by a
+provincial town. The gunsmith's, the sporting emporium, and the
+horse-repository were all visited in turn. And when we returned to the
+hotel about six o'clock I was the possessor of two guns, which were a
+perfect revelation to me, a cricket-bat, a tennis racquet, a small
+gymnasium, a set of foils, and, besides other things, a stylish,
+well-built dogcart and a sound, useful cob.
+
+I sank into an easy-chair in the coffee-room and, refusing to listen to
+Reynold's suggestion as to the propriety of dining before setting out
+homewards, ordered a cup of tea. While the waiter had left the room to
+fetch it I strolled to the window to look out at the weather, which had
+been threatening for some time and on my way I discovered that I was not
+alone in the apartment. A man was seated at one of the further-most
+tables, dining, and as I passed he looked up and surveyed me with a cool,
+critical stare, which changed suddenly into a pleasant smile of
+recognition.
+
+"Mr. Morton, isn't it?" he said, holding out his hand. "Mr. Ravenor told
+me that I should probably come across you."
+
+I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot to accept the offered hand.
+Mr. Ravenor's secretary was the last person whom I should have expected
+to find eating a solitary dinner in a Torchester hotel.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+                         A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER.
+
+
+"What have you been up to in Torchester, eh? Shopping?" Mr. Marx
+inquired. I saw no reason for concealing anything from him, nor did I do
+so. Rather awkwardly I told him of Mr. Ravenor's note to me, and that I
+had been with Reynolds all the afternoon. Perhaps I spoke with a little
+enthusiasm of our somewhat elaborate purchases. At any rate, when I had
+finished, he laughed softly to himself--a long, noiseless, but not
+unpleasant laugh.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I met you," he said, his lips still twitching, as though
+with amusement. "Sit down and have some dinner with me."
+
+I hesitated, for just at that moment Mr. Ravenor's words concerning his
+secretary flashed into my mind. Besides, I was not at all sure that I
+liked him. But, on the other hand, what alternative was there for me?
+What excuse could I find for declining so simple an invitation? In a few
+minutes the waiter would appear with the modest meal which I had ordered,
+and it would be impossible for me to order him to set it down in another
+part of the room, or to leave it and walk out of the hotel, just because
+this man was there. To do so would be to tell him as plainly as possible
+that I had some particular desire for avoiding him, and he would
+instantly divine that I was obeying a behest of Mr. Ravenor's. No; it was
+unavoidable. I had better accept his invitation, and, briefly, I did so.
+
+"That's right," he said pleasantly. "It's a queer fancy of mine, but I
+hate dining alone. Waiter, bring some more soup at once. This gentleman
+will dine with me."
+
+During dinner our conversation was interrupted. Hat in hand, Reynolds was
+standing before us, looking at Mr. Marx and then at me and the table
+before us with a look on his face which I did not altogether understand,
+although it annoyed me excessively. He spoke to me:
+
+"The dogcart has come round, sir."
+
+I half rose and threw down my napkin, though with some reluctance. I held
+out my hand regretfully to Mr. Marx, but he refused to take it.
+
+"You needn't go home with Reynolds unless you like," he said. "I have a
+brougham from the Castle here, and I can drop you at the farm on my way
+home."
+
+I hesitated, for the temptation to stay was strong. In fact, I should
+have accepted at once, only that Reynolds's grave, frowning face somehow
+reminded me of Mr. Ravenor's injunction. Reynolds, like a fool, settled
+the matter.
+
+"I think Mr. Morton had better return with me, sir," he said to Mr. Marx.
+"If you are ready, sir," he added to me. "The mare gets very fidgety if
+she's kept waiting."
+
+My boyish vanity was wounded to the quick by the style of his address,
+and his unwise assumption of authority, and I answered quickly:
+
+"You'd better be off at once, then, Reynolds. I shall accept Mr. Marx's
+offer."
+
+He was evidently uneasy and made one more effort.
+
+"I think Mr. Ravenor would prefer your returning with me, sir," he said.
+
+Mr. Marx had been leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee somewhat
+absently, and to all appearance altogether indifferent as to which way I
+should decide. He looked up now, however, and addressed Reynolds for the
+first time.
+
+"How the deuce do you know anything about what your master would prefer?"
+he said coolly.
+
+Reynolds made no answer, but looked appealingly at me. I chose not to see
+him.
+
+"I should imagine," Mr. Marx continued, leaning back in his chair again
+and deliberately stirring his coffee, "that if Mr. Ravenor has any choice
+about the matter at all, which seems to me very unlikely, he would prefer
+Mr. Morton's riding home in safety with a dry skin. Listen!"
+
+We did so, and at that moment a fierce gust of wind drove a very deluge
+of rain against the shaking window-panes.
+
+"That decides it!" I exclaimed. "I'll accept your offer, Mr. Marx, if you
+don't mind."
+
+"By far the more sensible thing to do," he remarked carelessly. "Have a
+glass of wine, Reynolds, before you start. You've a wet drive before
+you."
+
+Reynolds shook his head, and, wishing me a respectful good evening,
+withdrew.
+
+Mr. Marx watched Reynolds leave the room and then shrugged his shoulders
+slightly.
+
+"Honest, but stupid. Well, now you're in my charge, Morton, I must see
+whether I can't amuse you somehow. Ever been to the theatre?"
+
+I could not help a slight blush as I admitted that I had never even seen
+the outside of one.
+
+Mr. Marx looked at me after my admission as though I were some sort of
+natural curiosity.
+
+"Well, we'll go if you like," he said. "There's a very good one here, I
+believe, for the provinces, and it will be a change for you."
+
+"It will make us very late, won't it?" I ventured to say.
+
+"Not necessarily. I suppose it will be over about half-past ten and the
+carriage can meet us at the door."
+
+I said no more, for fear that he would take me at my word and give up the
+idea of going. In a few minutes Mr. Marx called for his bill and settled
+it, and, glancing at his watch, declared that it was time to be off. The
+waiter called a hansom, and we drove through the busy streets, Mr. Marx
+leisurely smoking a fragrant cigarette, and I leaning forward, watching
+the hurrying throngs of people, some pleasure-seekers, but mostly just
+released from their daily toil at the factory or workshop.
+
+It was a wet night and the streets seemed like a perfect sea of
+umbrellas. The rain was coming down in sheets, beating against the closed
+glass front of our cab and dimming its surface, until it became
+impossible to see farther than the horse's head. I leaned back by Mr.
+Marx's side with a sigh, and found that he had been watching me with an
+amused smile.
+
+"Busy little place, Torchester," he remarked.
+
+"It seems so to me," I acknowledged. "I have never been in any other town
+except Mellborough."
+
+"Lucky boy!" he exclaimed, half lightly, half in earnest. "You have all
+the pleasures of life before you, with the sauce of novelty to help you
+to relish them. What would I not give never to have seen Paris or Vienna,
+or never to have been in love, or tasted quails on toast! But here we are
+at the theatre!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+                            MISS MABEL FAY.
+
+
+The cab pulled up with a jerk underneath a long row of brightly burning
+lights. We dismounted, and I followed Mr. Marx up a broad flight of
+thickly carpeted stairs into a semi-circular corridor draped with crimson
+hangings and dimly lit with rose-coloured lights. A faint perfume hung
+about the place, and from below came the soft melody of a rhythmical
+German waltz which the orchestra was playing. I almost held my breath,
+with a curious mixture of expectation and excitement, as I followed Mr.
+Marx and an attendant down the corridor.
+
+The latter threw open the door of what appeared to be a little room and
+we entered. Mr. Marx at once moved to the front, and, throwing the
+curtains back, beckoned me to his side. I obeyed him and looked around in
+wonder.
+
+It happened to be a fashionable night and the place was crammed. On the
+level with us--we were in a box--were rows of men and women in evening
+attire; above, a somewhat disorderly mob in the gallery; and below, a
+dense throng--at least, it seemed so to me--of seated people were
+betraying their impatience for the performance by a continual stamping of
+feet and other rumbling noises.
+
+To a regular playgoer it was a very ordinary sight indeed; to me it was a
+revelation. I stood at the front of the box, looking round, until Mr.
+Marx, smiling, pushed a chair up to me and bade me sit down. Then I
+turned towards the stage and remained with my eyes fixed upon the
+curtain, longing impatiently for it to rise.
+
+Alas for my expectations! When at last the time came it was a charming
+picture indeed upon which I looked, but how different! A group of girls
+in short skirts and picturesque peasant attire moving lightly about the
+stage and singing; a man in uniform making passionate love to one of
+them, who was coyly motioning him away with her hand and bidding him stay
+with her eyes. A pretty picture it all made and a dazzling one. But what
+did it all mean?
+
+Mr. Marx had been watching my face, and leaned over towards me with a
+question upon his lips.
+
+"What does it all mean?" I whispered. "This isn't a play, is it? I don't
+remember one like it."
+
+"A play? No; it's a comic opera," he answered.
+
+I turned away and watched the performance again. I suppose I looked a
+little disappointed; but by degrees my disappointment died away. It was
+all so fresh to me.
+
+Towards the close of the first act, in connection with one of the
+incidents, several fresh characters--amongst them the girl who was taking
+the principal part--appeared on the stage. There was a little round of
+applause and I was on the point of turning to make some remark to Mr.
+Marx, when I heard a sharp, half-suppressed exclamation escape from his
+lips and felt his hot breath upon my cheek.
+
+I looked at him in surprise. He had risen from his chair and was standing
+close to my elbow, leaning over me, with eyes fixed upon the centre of
+the stage and an incredulous look on his pale face. Instinctively I
+followed the direction of his rapt gaze. It seemed to me to be bent upon
+the girl who had last appeared, and who, with the skirts of her
+dark-green riding-habit gathered up in her hand, was preparing to sing.
+
+He recovered from his surprise, or whatever emotion it was, very quickly,
+and broke into a short laugh. But I noticed that he pushed his chair
+farther back into the box and drew the curtains a little more forward.
+
+"Is anything the matter, Mr. Marx?" I asked.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and frowned a little.
+
+"Nothing at all. I fancied that I recognised a face upon the stage, but I
+was mistaken. Good-looking girl, isn't she--the one singing, I mean?"
+
+I thought that good-looking was a very feeble mode of expression, and I
+said so emphatically. In fact, I thought her the most beautiful and most
+graceful creature I had ever seen; and, as the evening wore on, I found
+myself applauding her songs so vigorously that she glanced, smiling, into
+our box, and Mr. Marx, who was still sitting behind the curtain, looked
+at me with an amused twitching of the lips.
+
+"Morton, Morton, this won't do!" he exclaimed, laughing. "You'll be
+falling head over ears in love with that young woman presently."
+
+I became in a moment very red and uncomfortable, for she had just cast a
+smiling glance up at us and Mr. Marx had intercepted it. I was both
+ashamed and angry with myself for having applauded so loudly as to have
+become noticeable; but Mr. Marx seemed to think nothing of it.
+
+"There is a better way of showing your appreciation of that young lady's
+talents--Miss Mabel Fay, I see her name is--than by applause. See these
+flowers?"
+
+I turned round and saw a large bouquet of white azaleas and roses, which
+the attendant must have brought in.
+
+"You can give them to her if you like," Mr. Marx suggested.
+
+I shook my head immediately, fully determined that I would do nothing of
+the sort. But Mr. Marx was equally determined that I should. It was quite
+the correct thing, he assured me; he had sent for them on purpose and I
+had only to stand up and throw them to her. While he talked he was
+writing on a plain card, which he pinned to the flowers and then thrust
+them into my hand.
+
+How it happened I don't quite know, but Mr. Marx had his own way. It was
+the close of the act and everyone was applauding Mabel Fay's song. She
+stood facing the house, bowing and smiling, and her laughing eyes met
+mine for a moment, then rested upon the flowers which I was holding and
+finally glanced back into mine full of mute invitation.
+
+I raised my hand. Mr. Marx whispered, "Now!" And the bouquet was lying at
+her feet. She picked it up gracefully, shot a coquettish glance up
+towards me, and then the curtain fell, and I sat back in my chair,
+feeling quite convinced that I had made an utter fool of myself.
+
+About the middle of the third act Mr. Marx rose and walked to the door.
+Holding it open in his hand for a moment, he paused and looked round.
+
+"I am going to leave you for a few minutes," he said. "I shall not be
+very long."
+
+Then he went and I heard him walk down the corridor.
+
+An hour passed and he did not return. The last act came, the curtain fell
+and, with a sigh of regret, I rose to go. Still he had not come back.
+
+I put on my coat and lingered about, uncertain what to do. Then there
+came a knock at the box-door, but, instead of Mr. Marx, an attendant
+entered, and handed me a note. I tore it open and read, hastily scrawled
+in pencil:
+
+"I am round at the back of the house. Come to me. The bearer will show
+you the way.--M."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+              BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE TORCHESTER THEATRE.
+
+
+I followed my guide to the end of the corridor, through a door which he
+unlocked and carefully locked again, and past the side of the deserted
+stage, on which I paused for a moment to gaze with wonder at the array of
+ropes and pulleys and runners which the carpenters were busy putting to
+rights, and at the canvas-covered, unlit auditorium, which looked
+now--strange transformation--like the mouth of some dark cavern. After
+picking our way carefully, we reached a door on which was painted
+"Manager's Room." A voice from inside bade us enter and I was ushered in.
+
+Mr. Marx was seated in an easy-chair, talking somewhat earnestly to a
+slim, dark young man, who was leaning against the mantelpiece. An older
+man was writing at a table at the other end of the room, with his back to
+the door.
+
+Mr. Marx welcomed me with a nod, and introduced me briefly to the young
+man by his side:
+
+"Mr. Morton--Mr. Isaacs. Mr. Isaacs is the manager of the company who are
+playing here."
+
+Mr. Isaacs turned an unmistakably Jewish face towards me and extended his
+hand.
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Morton! Hope you liked the performance," he said,
+with a smile, which disclosed the whole of a very white set of teeth.
+"Very fair, wasn't it? Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+I replied that I had enjoyed it exceedingly, and looked at Mr. Marx,
+wondering how long he meant to stay. I had taken a sudden but strong
+dislike to Mr. Isaacs.
+
+"Shall you be very long, Mr. Marx?" I asked.
+
+"I have sent for the carriage," he answered; "it will be here in ten
+minutes."
+
+It seemed to me that there was something a little strange in Mr. Marx's
+manner and the way in which he kept glancing towards the door.
+
+Just at that moment someone knocked at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried Mr. Isaacs.
+
+A lady obeyed his summons and swept into the room with a most unnecessary
+rustling of silk skirts. Mr. Isaacs welcomed her effusively.
+
+"Miss Fay, your most humble servant!" he exclaimed, bowing low. "Let me
+introduce two of my friends, Mr. Morton and Mr. Marx."
+
+The lady put out her ungloved hand, covered with a profusion of rings.
+
+"I know this young gentleman by sight," she said, in a loud and rather
+high-pitched tone. "You threw me those lovely flowers, didn't you? So
+good of you--awfully good! I've sent them home by my young woman."
+
+I stammered out some incoherent response and heartily wished myself a
+hundred miles away. What a disenchantment it was! I looked at her thickly
+pencilled eyebrows, at the smeared powder and paint which lay thick upon
+her face: at her bold, staring eyes, the crow's-feet underneath, which
+art had done what it could to conceal and failed; at the masses of yellow
+hair, which intuitively I knew to be false, and I felt my cheeks burn
+with shame that I should have been tricked into admiring her for a
+moment. Unfortunately, she put down my embarrassment to another cause,
+for it seemed partly to gratify, partly to amuse her.
+
+"My young friend and I admired your performance equally, Miss Fay,
+although, perhaps, he was the more demonstrative," said Mr. Marx, coming
+forward. "Will you accept the congratulations and thanks of a provincial
+who seldom has the pleasure of seeing such acting or hearing such a
+voice?"
+
+She thanked him with an affected little laugh, which suddenly died away
+and she looked into his face intently.
+
+"Haven't we met before?" she asked curiously. "There is something about
+your face or voice which seems familiar to me."
+
+He returned her gaze steadily, but shook his head with a slight smile.
+
+"I am afraid I may not claim that honour," he said. "If we had there
+could not possibly have been any uncertainty in my mind about it. It
+would have been a treasured memory."
+
+She looked doubtful, but turned away carelessly.
+
+"I suppose it is my mistake, then," she remarked. "You certainly seem to
+remind me of someone whom I have known. Fancy, perhaps. Mr. Isaacs, I
+came to beg for your escort home." (Here she shot a quick glance at me,
+which made my cheeks hot again.) "I have sent Julia on, and I can't go
+alone, can I, Mr. Morton?" she asked, turning to me.
+
+"I--I suppose not," I answered, devoutly wishing that Mr. Marx would take
+his departure. But, as though on purpose, he had gone to the other end of
+the room and had his back turned towards me.
+
+There was a brief silence. Mr. Isaacs glanced at me, whistled softly to
+himself, and then strolled slowly over to the window, as though to see
+what sort of a night it was. Miss Fay glanced at me impatiently, with a
+slight contraction in her eyebrows. I longed desperately to get away, but
+for the life of me could think of no excuse.
+
+"You won't offer your escort, then, Mr. Morton?" she whispered.
+
+"I can't. I don't know the town--never was here before--and we have a
+twelve-mile drive before us. We are expecting the carriage every moment.
+Ah, there it is!" I added, with a sudden sense of relief, as I heard the
+sound of horses' feet stamping and pawing outside and the jingling of
+harness. "Mr. Marx, Burdett has come!" I called out.
+
+He looked up, frowning.
+
+"All right; there's no hurry!" he said. "If you're not ready, pray don't
+study me. I should enjoy a cigar and a brandy-and-soda down at the 'Bell'
+before we start."
+
+"I'm quite ready, thanks," I answered slowly, for his words and manner
+had given me something to think about. "If you don't mind, I should like
+to be getting away. It's a long way, you know."
+
+"Oh, pray don't let me detain you!" Miss Fay exclaimed, tossing her head.
+"Mr. Isaacs, if you're ready, I am. Good-night, Mr. Marx; good-night, Mr.
+Morton!"
+
+She drew me a little on one side--a manoeuvre which I was powerless to
+prevent--and whispered in my ear:
+
+"You shy, stupid boy! There!"
+
+She shook hands with me again and left something in my palm. When they
+were gone and I was in the passage, I looked at it. It was a plain card
+and on it was hastily scribbled an address:
+
+          Miss Mabel Fay,
+                15, Queen Street.
+
+I felt my cheeks flush as I tore it into pieces and flung them on the
+ground. Then I followed Mr. Marx out to the carriage and, leaning back
+among the cushions by his side, I began seriously to consider an idea
+which every trifling incident during the latter part of the evening had
+pointed to; Mr. Marx had deliberately tried to lead me into making a fool
+of myself with Miss Mabel Fay. Why?
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+                        AT MIDNIGHT ON THE MOOR.
+
+
+We were more than half-way home before Mr. Marx broke a silence which was
+becoming oppressive.
+
+"Well, have you enjoyed your evening?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I have, and I'm very much obliged to you for taking me to the
+theatre," I added. After all, perhaps I was misjudging him. What possible
+motive could he have for being my enemy?
+
+"Oh, that's all right," he declared, carefully lighting a cigar and
+throwing the match out of the window. "I'm afraid you've had more than
+one illusion dispelled this evening, though," he went on, smiling. "You
+must have had plenty of time and opportunity, too, for weaving them, out
+here all your life. Have you never been away to visit your relations, or
+anything of that sort?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I don't believe I have any relations," I said. "I never heard of any. My
+father used to say that he was the last of his family."
+
+"But your mother? Surely you know some of her people?"
+
+"I have never even heard her speak of them," I answered shortly.
+
+"Strange! You don't happen to remember her maiden name, do you?"
+
+"I don't know that I ever heard it," I told him.
+
+I began to wish that Mr. Marx would choose some other topic of
+conversation. Doubtless, it was exceedingly kind of him to take so much
+interest in my affairs and his questions proceeded from perfectly genuine
+motives, but my inability to answer any of them was becoming a little
+embarrassing.
+
+"One more question I was going to ask you and it shall be the last," he
+said, as though divining my feeling. "Were you born here?"
+
+"I suppose so. I never heard that I was born anywhere else."
+
+There was another long silence and it seemed to me that Mr. Marx was very
+deep in thought. I was beginning to feel sleepy and, closing my eyes, I
+leaned right back among the soft, yielding cushions.
+
+It was one of the wildest and roughest nights of the year. Both the
+carriage-windows were streaming with raindrops, and we could hear the
+wind howling across the open country, and whistling mournfully among the
+leafless trees.
+
+We had accomplished about three-quarters of our journey and had just
+entered upon the blackest part of it. On either side of the road and
+running close up to it, without even the division of hedges, was a
+stretch of bare, open country, pleasant enough in summer time, but now a
+mere plain, on which were dotted about a few straggling plantations of
+sickly, stunted fir trees, among which the hurricane was making weird
+music.
+
+We were in the middle of this dreary region. Mr. Marx was still smoking
+his cigar, but with closed eyes, and was either dozing or deep in
+thought. I, with my share of the fur rug wrapped closely around my knees,
+was trying in vain to sleep--in vain, for my head was still in a whirl,
+after what had been for me such an exciting day.
+
+Exciting though it had been, however, its close was to be more so.
+Suddenly, without the least warning, we felt a sharp jerk, and heard the
+coachman calling out to his horses, who were plunging furiously. Mr. Marx
+and I both leaned forward, and, just as we did so, there was a tremendous
+crash of breaking glass, and, through the splintered carriage window, on
+the side nearest to him, came a heavy piece of rock, followed by a
+confused mass of stones and gravel and other débris.
+
+Mr. Marx leapt to his feet, with his hand on the door handle and the
+blood streaming from his forehead. Before he could open the door,
+however, a strange thing happened. Outside, half visible through the
+remains of the glass and half without any intervening obstruction,
+flashed for one single second the white, ghastly face of a man peering in
+upon us. It came and went so swiftly that I could gain only the very
+faintest idea of the features; but with Mr. Marx it seemed to be
+otherwise. Like a flash of lightning, a look passed across his face which
+has never died out of my memory. Every feature seemed to be dilated and
+shaken with a spasmodic agony of horrified recognition. For a moment he
+seemed struck helpless, with every power of movement and every nerve
+numbed. Then a low cry, such as I have never before or since heard from
+human throat, burst from his shaking lips and his right hand tore open
+his coat and sought his breast-pocket.
+
+The door of the carriage burst open as he sprang into the road like a
+wild animal, and long streaks of fire flashed from the gleaming revolver
+which he grasped in his hand--a lurid illumination which gave me sudden
+glimpses of his white, bleeding face as he stood in the road, firing
+barrel after barrel into the darkness.
+
+I jumped out and hurried to his side, looking eagerly around into the
+dark night and together we stood and listened in a breathless silence.
+Across the wild, open moor the wind came rushing towards us with a deep
+booming sound, and among the bare tree tops of a small plantation before
+us we heard it shrieking and yelling like the hellish laughter of an army
+of witches. The ink-black clouds lowering close above our heads were
+dissolving in a mad torrent of rain, and the darkness was so intense
+that, although we could hear the frantic plunging of the horses behind
+us, we could neither see them nor the carriage. The elements seemed to
+have declared themselves on the side of our mysterious assailant. The
+blackness of the night and the roaring of the wind and rain blotted out
+all our surroundings and deadened all sound save their own.
+
+"Wait here!" cried Mr. Marx, in a harsh, unnatural tone. And before I
+could open my mouth he had vanished out of sight and it seemed as though
+the black, yawning darkness had swallowed him up.
+
+For a while I stood without moving. Then a cry for help from the coachman
+behind and the renewed sound of struggling horses reminded me of their
+plight, and I groped my way back to the road again.
+
+I was only just in time. The horses, fine, powerful creatures, very
+nearly thoroughbred, were perfectly mad with fright, and the groom, who
+had been holding and striving to subdue them, was quite exhausted.
+Between us we managed to pacify them after a brief struggle, and as soon
+as I could find sufficient breath I began to question Burdett--who had
+stuck to his place on the box like an immovable statue--about the first
+cause of their alarm.
+
+"What was it they shied at first?" I asked. "Did you see anyone?"
+
+"Just catched a glimpse of the blackguard, sir, and that was all,"
+Burdett answered. "We were a-spinning along beautiful, for they knew as
+they were on their way home, them animals did, when, all of a sudden
+like, Dandy shies, and up goes the mare on her hind legs and as near as
+possible pitches me into the road. I slackened the reins and laid the
+whip across them, while Tom jumped down. And just then I saw a figure in
+the middle of the road and heard a crash through the carriage window.
+Tom, he'd catched hold of their heads by then, which was lucky; for when
+the firing began they was like mad creatures and I could never have held
+them. It's a mercy we aren't altogether smashed up, and no mistake. The
+Lord save me from ever being out wi' my 'osses again on such a night as
+this!"
+
+"You didn't see the face of the man who attacked us, then?" I asked
+eagerly.
+
+"Not being possessed of the eyes of a heagle or a cat, sir, I did not,"
+Burdett replied. "Just you look round and see what sort of a night it is.
+Why, I can only just make out your outline, sir; although I've been
+looking at you this five minutes, I can't see nothing of your face."
+
+"Neither did you, I suppose, Tom?" I asked the groom.
+
+"No, sir; nothing except just a black figure. Good thing that you was
+neither of you hurt, sir."
+
+"I'm not sure that Mr. Marx isn't," I answered; "his face was bleeding a
+good deal. I wish he'd come back."
+
+Never did time pass so slowly as then, when we waited in the storm and
+rain for Mr. Marx's return. It must have been nearly an hour before we
+heard him hailing us in the distance, and soon afterwards saw his figure
+loom out of the darkness close at hand. He was alone.
+
+Splashed from head to foot with mud, hatless, and with great streaks of
+blood clotted upon his forehead and cheeks, he presented at first a
+frightful figure. But his face had lost that dreadful expression of
+numbed horror which had made it for a moment so terrible to me, and, as
+he sank back breathless and exhausted, among the cushions, he even
+attempted a smile.
+
+"All in vain, you see," he said. "Couldn't find a single trace of anyone
+anywhere."
+
+"Are you much hurt, sir?" asked the groom, who was tying up the broken
+carriage-door.
+
+"Not at all. Only a scratch. Tell Burdett to drive home as fast as he can
+now, Tom, there's a good fellow."
+
+We were left together to talk over this strange affair. Mr. Marx seemed
+to have made up his mind about it already.
+
+"Without doubt," he said deliberately, "it was some tramp, desperate with
+want or drink, who made up his mind to play the highwayman. He started
+well, and then, seeing two of us instead of one, funked it and bolted. I
+don't think I ever had such a start in my life."
+
+"You came off the worst," I remarked, pointing to his forehead.
+
+"It wasn't that that upset me," he answered. "It was a horrible idea
+which flashed upon me just for a moment. The face which peered in at the
+window--you saw it--was horribly like the face of a man who is dead--whom
+I know to be dead. It gave me, just while the idea lasted, a sensation
+which I hope I shall never experience again as long as I live. It was
+ghastly."
+
+The face of the dead! It was not a cheerful thought. But I looked at the
+wrecked door and window of the carriage and felt immediately reassured.
+Our assailant, whoever he might have been, was no ghostly one. There was
+undeniable evidence of his material presence and strength in the
+shattered glass, the wrenched woodwork, and the wound on Mr. Marx's
+forehead.
+
+The carriage pulled up with a jerk. We had reached my home.
+
+"Hadn't you better come in and bathe your forehead, Mr. Marx?" I
+suggested hesitatingly.
+
+He shook his head and declined.
+
+"No, thanks. I'll get back to the Castle as soon as I can and doctor it
+myself. Good-bye, Morton. If I don't see you again before you go, I wish
+you every success at Mr. Randall's."
+
+I thanked him warmly, shook his offered hand, and, shutting the
+carriage-door, called out to Burdett to drive on. For a moment or two I
+stood in the road watching the lights as they rapidly grew fainter and
+fainter in the distance. Then I turned slowly up the path towards the
+house.
+
+Half-way there I stopped short and, holding my breath, listened intently.
+The wind had dropped and the rain had almost ceased, but the night was
+still as dark as pitch. I listened with strained ears and beating heart
+and soon I knew that I had not been mistaken. Coming down the hill
+between Rothland Wood gate and where I was, along the road by which we
+had just come, I could hear the faint, but nevertheless unmistakable,
+sound of light, running footsteps. Turning back, I stole softly down the
+path and stood in the middle of the road, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+                           A STRANGE ATTACK.
+
+
+It could not in reality have been more than a minute or two, although it
+seemed to me then a terribly long while, before I again heard the sound
+which had attracted my attention. When I did, it was quite close at hand,
+just at the beginning of the range of farm-buildings which skirted the
+road. There was no possibility of any mistake. The situation was
+sufficiently plain, at any rate. Scarcely fifty yards away a man was
+coming running towards me, either barefooted or with very soft shoes on;
+and it was past midnight, pitch dark, and a lonely road.
+
+Nearer and nearer the steps came, and my heart began to beat very fast
+indeed. At last, peering earnestly through the gloom, I made out the
+shadowy figure of a man only a yard or two away from me, running in the
+middle of the road, and a pair of wild, burning eyes glistened like fire
+against the dark background. I felt his warm, panting breath upon my
+cheek, heard a low, fierce cry, and a second later saw the figure give a
+spring sideways and vanish in the shade of the barn wall.
+
+I followed cautiously; but, although I groped about in all directions, I
+could see nothing. So I stood quite still with my back to the wall, and
+called out softly:
+
+"Who are you? Why are you hiding from me?"
+
+No answer. I tried again:
+
+"I don't want to hurt you. I won't do you any harm. I only want to know
+who you are, and what----"
+
+I never finished the sentence. I became suddenly conscious of two glaring
+eyes looking at me, like pieces of live coal, from a crumpled heap on the
+ground. Then there was a quick, panting snort, a spring, and I felt a
+man's long, nervous fingers clutching my throat. Gasping and choking for
+breath, I flung them off, only to find myself held as though in a vice by
+a pair of long arms. Drawing a deep breath, I braced myself up for the
+struggle with my unknown assailant.
+
+More than once I gave myself up for lost, for my opponent was evidently a
+powerful man, and seemed bent on strangling me. But, fiercely though he
+struggled at first, I soon saw that his strength was only the frenzy of
+nervous desperation and that it was fast leaving him. By degrees I began
+to gain the upper hand, and at last, with a supreme effort, I threw him
+on his back and, before he could recover himself, I had my knee upon his
+chest and drew a long breath of relief.
+
+I spoke to him, shouted, threatened, commanded; but he took no notice.
+Then I peered down close into his upturned face and fierce eyes, and the
+truth flashed upon me at once. I had been struggling with a madman, a
+hopeless, raving lunatic, and it was probably he who had made the attack
+upon us in the carriage.
+
+My first impulse was one of deep gratitude for my escape; then I began to
+wonder what on earth I was to do with him. He was lying like a log now,
+perfectly quiet; but I knew that I had only to relax my hold upon him and
+the struggle would begin again--perhaps terminate differently. I could
+not take him into the house, for there was no room from which he could
+not easily escape. The only place seemed to me to be the coach-house. It
+was dry and clean, with no windows, save at the top, and with a good
+strong padlock. The coach-house would do, I decided, if only I could get
+him there.
+
+I drew my handkerchief from my pocket, and, knotting it with my teeth,
+secured his hands as well as I could. Then, seizing him by the collar, I
+half dragged, half helped him up the garden path till we reached the
+coach-house, and, opening the door with one hand, I thrust him in. He
+made no resistance; in fact, he seemed utterly cowed; and a pitiable
+object he looked, crouched on the floor, with his face turned to the
+wall. I struck a match to obtain a better view of him.
+
+His only attire was a grey flannel shirt and a pair of dark trousers,
+both of which were torn in places and saturated with rain. Of his face I
+could see little, for it was half hidden by the hair, matted with dirt
+and rain, and by his bushy whiskers and beard, ragged and unkempt. His
+feet were bare and black with a thick coating of mud; hence his soft,
+stealthy tread. Altogether, he was a gruesome object, as he lay a huddled
+heap against the wall, muttering to himself some unintelligible jargon.
+
+Loosing his hands, I left him there, and, softly entering the house,
+found some food and rugs and took them out to him. He eyed the former
+ravenously, and before I could set it down he snatched a piece of bread
+from my hands and began eagerly to devour it. I put the remainder down by
+his side and, throwing the rugs over him, stole away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+                     THE MONASTERY AMONG THE HILLS.
+
+
+When I awoke in the morning the sun was already high in the heavens and
+it was considerably past my usual hour of rising. I jumped out of bed at
+once and began my toilet. I had scarcely finished my bath when there came
+a loud tap at the door.
+
+"Hallo!" I cried out. "Anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Please, sir, John wants to know whether you locked anything up
+in the coach-house last night. There was----"
+
+"Yes, I did," I interrupted quickly. "Tell him not to go there till I
+come down."
+
+"Please, sir, it's too late," the girl answered, in a frightened tone.
+"It's got away, whatever it is."
+
+I dropped the towel with which I had been rubbing myself and hurried on
+my clothes. In a few minutes I was down in the yard, where several men
+were standing together talking. John left them at once and came to me.
+
+"Why did you want to go to the coach-house so early?" I exclaimed,
+glancing at the wide-open door and empty interior. "I had an awful job to
+get that man in there last night, and now you've let him go."
+
+"Well, sir, it was a fearful row he was a-making," explained John. "Soon
+as I came this morning, about five o'clock, I was passing through the
+stack-yard when I heard an awful thumping at the coach-house door from
+the inside. Of course, I knew nowt about there being anyone theer, so I
+just goes straight up and opens the door, to see what was the matter,
+like, and, lor, I did 'ave a skeer, and no mistake! It wur quite dark,
+and I could see nowt but a pair o' heyes a-glaring at me as savage as a
+wild animal's. 'Coom out o' this 'ere and let's ha' a look at yer,' I
+says, for, d'ye see, I thought as it wur someone who had crept in
+unbeknown in the daytime and got locked in by mistake. There warn't no
+answer, and I wur just about to strike a match and 'ave a look at 'im,
+when he springs at me like a wild cat. I tried to hold him and I'm darned
+if he didn't nearly make his teeth meet through my hand."
+
+He touched his right hand lightly, and I noticed for the first time that
+it was bandaged up.
+
+"He got away from you, then?" I remarked.
+
+"Got away from me?" John repeated, in a tone of utter disgust. "He warn't
+such a sweet-looking object, or sweet-tempered 'un either, that I wur
+over-anxious for the pleasure of his company, he warn't! I just got my
+hand out of his jaws and let him go as fast as he liked, with a jolly
+good kick behind to help him on, too. You see, sir, I didn't know as
+you'd anything to do with putting him in there," the man added
+apologetically. "I thought he'd got in quite promiscuous-like."
+
+To tell the truth, although I had been alarmed at first, I did not
+particularly regret what had happened. At any rate, it saved me the
+bother of going over to the police-station at Mellborough. Still, the
+thought that he might even now be lurking about in the vicinity, with
+plenty of opportunities to provide a weapon for himself, was not
+altogether a pleasant one.
+
+"Who might he have been, sir?" John inquired curiously.
+
+"Just what I should like to know," I answered. "He's a lunatic and a
+dangerous one, that's certain--escaped from some asylum, I should think."
+And I told him of my adventure on the previous night, to which the whole
+group listened open-mouthed.
+
+"I'm thinking, sir," John remarked, when I had finished, "that it'd be as
+well for Foulds and I to have a scour round and see if we can't find him,
+or he'll be doing someone a mischief."
+
+"If you are not very busy I wish you would," I said. "I don't feel quite
+easy at the thought of his wandering about round here. If you do find
+him, lock him up and send word to the police-station at Mellborough."
+
+After breakfast that morning my mother made a request which startled me
+almost as much it delighted me.
+
+"I am going to walk over to the monastery, Philip," she said quietly.
+"Will you come with me?"
+
+"Of course I will, mother," I answered promptly. "Nothing could give me
+greater pleasure. When will you start?"
+
+"I shall be ready in half an hour," she said, with a faint smile, as
+though she were pleased at my ready acquiescence. Then she left the room
+to get ready.
+
+In about the time she had mentioned she came into the garden to me and we
+started on our walk. It was a very uneventful one, but I don't think that
+I shall ever forget it. My mother seemed, after her brief relapse into
+comparative kindness, to have become more inaccessible than ever; and she
+walked along by my side, with downcast eyes and a nervous, thoughtful
+expression on her pale face.
+
+I, too, felt somewhat depressed at starting, but soon the fresh, pure
+air, becoming stronger and stronger as we left the road and followed the
+footpath by Beacon Hill, had its invariable effect upon my spirits. All
+perplexing thoughts and forebodings of trouble passed away from me like
+magic, and my heart beat and the blood flowed through my veins with all
+the impetuous ardour of sanguine youth.
+
+At the top of the hill we paused, I to look round upon my favourite
+scene, my mother to rest for a moment. Then we saw how great had been the
+storm of the night before.
+
+Here and there were the bare trunks of trees and many a cattle-shed and
+barn stood roofless. The storm seemed to have worked havoc everywhere,
+save where, on the summit of its wooded hill, Ravenor Castle, with its
+great range of mighty battlements, its vast towers, and grey walls of
+invincible thickness, frowned down upon the country at its feet. Looking
+across at it, it seemed to me that the place had never seemed so imposing
+as then.
+
+My mother stood by my side and noticed my intent gaze.
+
+"You admire Ravenor Castle very much, Philip?" she said quietly.
+
+I withdrew my eyes with an effort.
+
+"I do, mother," I confessed; "very much indeed. The place has a sort of
+fascination for me--and the man who lives there!"
+
+My mother had turned a little away from me and stood with face upturned
+to heaven and mutely moving lips. Out of her eyes I could see the tears
+slowly welling, and her tall slim figure was convulsed with sobs. I
+sprang to her side and caught hold of her hand.
+
+"What is it, mother?" I cried. "Tell me!"
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"Not now, Philip--not now. Come, let us go!"
+
+Side by side we began to descend the hill. Our path wound around several
+freshly-planted spinneys and then led through a plantation of pine-trees.
+
+Then we turned with regret, so far as I was concerned, into the muddy
+road again and walked for more than a mile between high, straight hedges.
+At last, soon after mid-day, we turned to the left, passed through a
+farmyard and along a winding path, which led us, now by the side of
+turnip fields, now across bracken-covered open country, to the summit of
+our last hill.
+
+Here again we paused. Below us, close up against the background of the
+colourless hills, drearily situated in the bleakest spot of the austere
+landscape, the straight spires and severely simple buildings of the
+monastery were clustered together. A little above it, on an artificial
+eminence of rock, a rude cross stood out in vivid relief against the sky,
+and on this my mother's eyes were fixed with a sort of rapt wistfulness,
+as we stood side by side on the top of the hill looking downwards.
+
+It was a fitting spot that these men--who counted it among their virtues
+that in their rigid self-immolation they had cut themselves off even from
+the beauties of Nature--had chosen for their habitation. But although the
+place had a peculiar impressiveness of its own, which never failed to
+exercise a sort of fascination upon me, I was glad to-day when my mother
+moved forward again.
+
+As we neared the end of our journey and turned in at the long, straight
+avenue which led to the monastery doors, the strange agitation which I
+had noticed in my mother's manner during the earlier part of the day
+visibly increased. The cold inexpressiveness which had dwelt for so long
+in her face vanished, and into it there crept a look which, having once
+seen, I cared not to look upon again. It seemed as though she were
+endeavouring to brace herself up for some tremendous ordeal, and I would
+have given anything to have been able to put into words the sympathy
+which had risen up strongly within me.
+
+Unnatural, cold, severe and, at the best of times, indifferent, as she
+had lately been to me, she was still my mother and I loved her. But I
+dared not break in with words upon the fierce anguish which was already
+beginning to leave its marks upon her white, strained face. Only when we
+stood before the bare stone front of the monastery, and with feeble
+fingers she had pulled the great iron bell, could I speak at all, and
+then the words were not such as I wished to speak. Afterwards, when I
+thought of them--and I often did think of them and of every trifling
+incident of that memorable walk--they seemed to me weak and ill-chosen.
+
+But, such as they were, I am glad that I spoke them.
+
+She listened as one whose thoughts were far away, but when I ceased,
+breathless, she laid her hand upon my arm and, with her dim, sad eyes
+looking into mine, said simply:
+
+"This is for your sake, Philip--for your sake!"
+
+Then, before I could ask her what she meant, the great door slowly opened
+and the guest-master stood before us. She passed him with a silent
+salutation and vanished on her way to the chapel; and, though I watched
+her longingly, I dared not follow. Then, declining Father Bernard's
+invitation to go to his room and rest, I turned away from the door and
+wandered into the grounds.
+
+Hour after hour of the brief winter's day passed away. Father Bernard
+came out in search of me and offered me refreshments; but I shook my
+head. I could not eat, nor drink, nor rest. A strange but powerful
+apprehension of some coming crisis in my life--some great evil connected
+with my mother's visit to this place--had laid hold of me, and all my
+struggles against it were impotent.
+
+It was late in the afternoon before she came. I had climbed up to the top
+of "Calvary" and, with sick heart and longing eyes, was watching the door
+from which she must issue. Suddenly it was opened and she stood for a
+moment upon the threshold looking around for me. To my dying day I shall
+think of her as I saw her then.
+
+Her face was the face of a saint--calm, passionless, and happy, with a
+gentle, chastened happiness. I knew, when I looked upon her, that she had
+left the burden of her great sorrow behind. But she had paid a price for
+it. Pale and fragile as she had always appeared, she seemed now to have
+been wasted by some fierce, scathing ordeal, which had driven out of her
+features everything human and left only a spiritual life. As she moved
+slowly forward into the drive and I saw her even more distinctly, she
+seemed to me to have gained a strange, new beauty; but it was a beauty
+which made me look upon her with a sudden shuddering fear.
+
+I hurried down to her side and she welcomed me with a smile such as I had
+seldom seen on her face, and which was altogether in harmony with her
+softened expression. Then she took my arm and we turned towards home.
+
+"You are happier now, mother?" I ventured to ask her, and she answered me
+by silently pressing my arm.
+
+We passed down the avenue, thickly strewn with decaying leaves, along the
+winding lane, and through the gate which led up to Ive's Head Hill. Once
+or twice as we were making the ascent I fancied that she hung heavily
+upon my arm and I asked if she were tired; but she only shook her head.
+We had reached the summit before the terrible fear which had been gnawing
+at my heart took definite shape. Then, for the first time since we had
+started upon our return journey, I was able to look into her face, which
+she had been keeping averted from me, and when I saw the ghastly change
+which had crept into it, my heart stood still and all my senses seemed
+numbed with fear.
+
+"Mother," I cried, "you are ill! What is the matter? Oh, speak to
+me--do!"
+
+She had fallen into my arms, and her hands, which touched mine as they
+fell to her side, were as cold as ice. Her face was like the face of one
+who has already triumphed over the shadows of death. Far away at our feet
+the Cross of Calvary was standing out with rugged vividness against the
+fast darkening sky and upon it her closing eyes were steadily fixed. Her
+lips were slightly parted in a happy, confident smile, and her whole
+being seemed absorbed in the most religious devotion. Once she whispered
+my name and faintly pressed my hand; then her lips moved again and I
+heard the dread sound of the solemn prayer, faltered out in a broken
+whisper, "_In manus Tuas, Domine_!"
+
+In my heart I knew that she was dying, and that human help would be of no
+avail. Yet I was loth to abandon all hope, and setting her gently down I
+looked anxiously around. On the summit of the next range of hills a man
+was sitting on horseback, looking down upon the monastery--a motionless
+figure against the sky. I cried out to him, and at the sound of my voice
+he started round and looked towards us; then, suddenly digging the spurs
+deep into the sides of his great black horse, he came thundering up the
+side of the hill at a pace which made the ground shake beneath my feet
+like the tremblings of an earthquake.
+
+"What is wrong?" he cried hoarsely; and, looking into his face, I
+recognised Mr. Ravenor.
+
+I pointed to my mother's prostrate figure, and, gazing at him with dry
+eyes, I answered mechanically:
+
+"She is dying!"
+
+The words had scarcely left my lips before he had leaped from his horse,
+and, passing his arm around her, bent over her pallid face.
+
+"Oh, this is horrible!" he murmured. "You must not die--you must not die!
+I have----"
+
+His voice seemed choked with emotion and he did not finish his sentence.
+She spoke to him, but so softly that I could not hear the words.
+
+I walked a few yards away and once more looked wildly round. Far away on
+the dark hillside I could see the white-robed figures of the lay brethren
+bending over their labour. Nearer there was no one. The road below was
+deserted and a deep stillness seemed brooding over the bare, shadowy
+landscape. Sick at heart I turned back and fell on my knees by my
+mother's side.
+
+We remained there, fearing almost to look into her face, until the
+twilight deepened upon the hills and slowly blotted out from our view
+even the dark cross standing up against the grey sky. Then Mr. Ravenor
+leaned for a moment forward and a low groan escaped from his lips. It
+told me what I dreaded--that my mother was dead!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+                        A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.
+
+
+The paroxysm of my grief passed slowly away, and I rose to my feet and
+looked around with streaming eyes. Mr. Ravenor was still by my side, and
+together we carried my mother back to the monastery. The news of our
+approach had preceded us, and long before we reached our journey's end
+the solemn minute-bell was tolling out to the silent night, awakening
+strange echoes in the hills and finding a reverberation of its
+mournfulness in my heart.
+
+Austere and impressive as the great bare front of the monastery had
+always appeared to me, it had never seemed so cold and desolate as when
+our melancholy little procession wound round the Hill of Calvary and
+slowly approached the entrance. The gloom of a winter's evening was
+hanging around the building, which, with never a ray of light from any
+part, looked like a habitation of the dead--a gigantic vault.
+
+But suddenly, as we drew near, the front door was slowly opened and the
+dark figure of a monk, holding above his head a lighted taper, stood on
+the steps and in a low monotone repeated a Latin prayer. When he ceased
+there was a moment's silence, and then from the chapel there came the
+sound of deep voices chanting slowly in solemn unison the _Miserere_.
+
+The remainder of that night seems like a dream to me now, of which I can
+recall but little. But I remember that, long past midnight, when I had
+thrown myself down upon the stone floor of the guest-chamber, I heard
+soft steps and the rustle of garments approaching me, and, looking up, I
+saw the sweetest face I ever beheld in man or woman looking down into
+mine from the deep folds of a monk's cowl.
+
+He stayed with me for a while, speaking welcome words of comfort; then,
+gathering his robes about him, he stood up, prepared to leave. But first
+he handed me a small packet.
+
+"This was left in my charge for you, Philip Morton," he said. "Little did
+I dream that so soon I should be called upon to fulfil my trust. Take it,
+my son."
+
+The packet, which I opened with reverent fingers, was a very small one,
+and consisted of a single letter only. That I might see the more clearly
+to read it, I pushed open the narrow, diamond-framed window, and the
+moonlight filled the little room with a soft, mellowed light. Then I
+read:
+
+  "The Barnwood Monastery of St. Clement's,
+                "_November 19th, 18--._
+
+"My dearest Son,--I write these lines to you, Philip, feeling happier
+than I have done for many years, because I have a deep and sure
+conviction that my life is drawing fast to a close, and that the end may
+come at any minute. Alas! my son, I feel that I have not been to you all
+that a mother should be. It may be that my coldness has alienated from me
+the love which I know you have been willing to give. It may be so; but I
+choose rather to believe that you will pity me when I tell you that the
+coldness which has grown up between us was none of my choosing, but was
+only part of a terrible punishment which I have had to bear for many
+weary years.
+
+"What my sin--or let me be merciful to myself and call it my error--was,
+I do not purpose here to tell you. Some day the person at whose
+discretion I have left it may deem it well to tell you the whole story.
+For my sake, Philip, for the sake of the love which I know you bear
+me--and which, God knows, I have for you--I beg you to wait until that
+time comes and not seek to hasten it.
+
+"Think of me as kindly as you can, dear. If the path which I chose to
+follow was not the wisest, I have, at least, suffered terribly for it.
+For many weary years grief and horror and remorse have been making my
+life one long purgatory. Yes, I have suffered indeed. But at last I have
+found peace.
+
+"Do not marvel at what I am going to tell you, Philip. My will--the
+little I have to leave is yours--is drawn up and signed and I have
+appointed Mr. Ravenor your guardian. There are reasons for this which you
+cannot know, but he will be only too glad to accept the charge; and in
+all things, Philip, even if he should desire you altogether to change
+your position in life, follow his command and submit to his wishes.
+
+"Farewell, my beloved son--farewell! God grant that your life may be good
+and happy, and that your last days may be as peaceful as mine. I can wish
+you nothing better. Once more, farewell!--Your affectionate
+
+                                                           "Mother."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+                               FOR LIFE.
+
+
+My mother's death marked an epoch in my life, for immediately afterwards
+a great change came over my circumstances and position. Of the dreary
+days just before and after the funeral I shall here say but little. Their
+sadness is for me and me alone.
+
+Until after the ceremony I remained at the monastery, seeking relief from
+my thoughts by rambles over the hills, by watches at dead of night before
+the spot where, with many candles burning round her open coffin, my
+mother lay, and by long conversations with Father Alexander, my
+comforter. When the time of the funeral came, Mr. Ravenor stood by my
+side, the only other mourner, and I knew that the banks of choice white
+flowers, which smothered the coffin and perfumed the winter air, were his
+gift.
+
+After it was all over he came to me where I stood, a little apart, and
+put his hand upon my shoulder.
+
+"Philip, my boy," he said kindly, "will you come back to the Castle with
+me? I am your guardian now, you know."
+
+I drew a long breath.
+
+"Let me go back to the farm for a week by myself," I said; "then I will
+come to you. Be ready to go to Dr. Randall's."
+
+"Let it be so, then," he answered. "Perhaps it is best."
+
+I said good-bye to the monks, especially to Father Alexander, with
+regret, for they had all been very good to me. Then I accompanied Mr.
+Ravenor to his carriage and was driven swiftly homewards.
+
+The week that followed I spent in solitude, and as the days passed by the
+bitterness of my grief left me. Not that the memory of my mother grew
+less dear--rather the reverse; but I began to recognise that what had
+happened was best. Better that she should have died thus, full of
+thoughts of holy things and with a conscience at rest, than that she
+should still be bearing with aching heart a burden which she had never
+deserved.
+
+On the last day of the week I was told that a visitor had arrived and
+wished to see me, and before I could ask his name he had entered the
+room. It was Mr. Marx.
+
+The man was surely an admirable actor. Instinct told me that he cared not
+a jot for either my mother or me; but his few words of sympathy were
+excellently chosen and gracefully spoken. Then he at once changed the
+subject and talked pleasantly of other things; and as he went on I
+suddenly remembered that I had not seen him since the night of our drive
+home from Torchester, and that, therefore, he could know nothing of the
+adventure which had befallen me after his departure. I took advantage,
+therefore, of a pause in the conversation to tell him all about it; and,
+impassive though his face was, I could see that it made a great
+impression.
+
+"Do you remember what the man was like?" he asked, knitting his brows.
+"Can you describe him?"
+
+I did so as well as I could and in the midst of my narration, making some
+trivial excuse, he moved his chair out of the light into the shadows of
+the room. But if he wished to escape my scrutiny he was a little too
+late, for I had already noticed his blanched face and trembling hands.
+Evidently there was something more in this midnight attack than I had
+thought. Who was the lunatic? I wondered. I felt sure, looking at him
+closely, that Mr. Marx knew. No need now for Mr. Ravenor to warn me
+against the companionship of this man. Already my passive dislike had
+grown into an active aversion.
+
+Instinctively I felt that he was both unscrupulous and untrustworthy. I
+felt that he was seeking me for ends of his own, and all the time I was
+half afraid of him.
+
+Doubtless my manner showed that he was no welcome visitor, but still he
+lingered. At last my housekeeper brought me in my afternoon cup of tea
+and I was compelled to ask him to join me. He did so, drank it
+thoughtfully, and immediately afterwards rose to go.
+
+"I have been wondering what can have become of this poor lunatic," he
+said carelessly. "Scarcely a pleasant person to meet on a dark evening."
+
+I shrugged my shoulders as I walked out into the hall with him.
+
+"It is nearly a fortnight ago," I remarked; "he can hardly have remained
+in the neighbourhood and in hiding all this time."
+
+"Still, if he had been captured we should have heard of it," Mr. Marx
+objected.
+
+"Probably. And yet I don't see why. I should not, at any rate, as I have
+been away at the monastery; and you, I don't know how you would have
+heard of it, unless you read the local papers."
+
+"A weakness of which I am not guilty," he answered drily. "Nor have I
+been outside the grounds. We have been hard at work."
+
+"Did you walk here?" I asked.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I came down in a trap from the Castle, but the man was going to
+Mellborough and I told him not to wait for me. You won't walk across the
+park with me, I suppose, just to get an appetite for dinner? It's a
+splendid evening."
+
+I looked at him furtively, but closely. Yes, Mr. Marx was a coward, in
+addition to his other slight demerits.
+
+"No, thanks," I answered shortly. "I've had a long walk already today.
+Good evening!"
+
+I turned back into the sitting-room, but before I had reached my
+easy-chair I began to think that I was scarcely behaving well. After all,
+Mr. Marx was a middle-aged man, and it was possible that his strength
+might have been sapped by the brain labour in which he was constantly
+engaged and his sedentary life.
+
+Supposing he were to encounter this lunatic and suffer at his hands,
+perhaps even lose his life, should I not blame myself? I came to a speedy
+decision. I would let him have his fright, but I would follow him at a
+little distance and see that he came to no harm.
+
+I took a short, heavy stick from the rack and, crossing the stackyard,
+vaulted over the palings into the park, purposely avoiding the gate.
+About a hundred yards in front Mr. Marx was walking quickly along, with
+both hands in his ulster pockets, and looking frequently around him. Men
+had been busy in the park on the previous day cutting the bracken, and
+along the side of the road were many stacks of it waiting to be carted
+away. I noticed that whenever Mr. Marx drew near one of these he gave it
+a wide berth and I smiled to myself at this evidence of his anxiety.
+
+I was walking on the turf, that he might not hear my footsteps, and was
+able to keep him easily in sight, for it was a clear, frosty evening, and
+the full moon was shining in a cloudless sky. At a sudden bend in the
+road he came in sight of a place where stacks of bracken had been left on
+either side opposite to each other. I saw him pause as though hesitating
+which he should avoid, and at the same moment I distinctly saw some dark
+body crouched down behind one of them and swaying slightly backwards and
+forwards.
+
+I broke at once into a run, but before the echoes of my warning shout had
+died away a figure sprang like a wild cat at Mr. Marx's throat. There was
+a flash and a sharp report, but from the direction of the former I could
+see that the revolver had been knocked up into the air and exploded
+harmlessly.
+
+When at last I reached the assailant and his victim it was a fearful
+sight I looked upon. The face of the lunatic was ghastly and his wild
+eyes almost started from their sockets in his rage.
+
+White and emaciated as a skeleton's, his face was still capable of
+expression--and such an expression. A frenzied desire to kill seemed to
+be his sole aim, and his long, skinny fingers clutched Mr. Marx's throat
+as in a vice. The latter's eyeballs were protruding from his head and his
+breath was coming in short, agonised pants; yet all the while Mr. Marx
+was holding the madman in such a fierce grip that I could hear his ribs
+snapping like whalebone.
+
+My arrival saved Mr. Marx from a speedy death by strangulation. Though I
+lifted the lunatic up in my arms and strained every muscle to pull him
+away, his fingers never relaxed till I stopped his breath and rendered
+him momentarily unconscious.
+
+I waited for Mr. Marx to come to himself, my foot resting lightly upon
+the prostrate body of his assailant. Soon he rose slowly to his feet and
+began groping about in the road.
+
+"What do you want?" I asked. "Lost anything?"
+
+"My revolver."
+
+I pointed to where it lay gleaming in the moonlight. He picked it up and
+set it to an undischarged barrel. I watched him curiously.
+
+"You won't want that again," I remarked. "What are you going to do with
+it?"
+
+"I am going to put that beast out of his misery," he answered. "Stand out
+of the way!"
+
+"Nonsense! You will do nothing of the sort!" I cried hotly. "What! kill
+an insensible man? He has as much right to live as you. You shall not
+commit murder in my presence: and, least of all, shall you kill a poor
+insane creature like this. Put that thing up!"
+
+An awful look flashed into his face, and, as he suddenly raised his arm,
+I looked into the dark muzzle of his revolver.
+
+With a quick spring I wrenched the revolver from his hand, and, bending
+backwards, threw it far away into the bracken.
+
+"I don't know what you were going to do, Mr. Marx," I said, looking at
+him steadily, "but it seems to me that you are not a fit person to be
+trusted with firearms."
+
+He stood still, speechless with rage. I turned my back upon him and
+found, to my surprise, that the man whose life Mr. Marx had so much
+desired was lying on his side, looking at me with wide-open eyes.
+
+"Well, have your own way," Mr. Marx said, quietly; "I dare say you are
+right. There was no need to be violent, or to throw away my favourite
+revolver. What do you propose to do with him?"
+
+Mr. Marx advanced, but at the sight of him the lunatic, who was leaning
+heavily upon my arm, and groaning with pain, shrank down upon the ground,
+cowering at my feet like a dog. He covered his face with his hands and
+broke into one of the most pitiful cries of distress that I have ever
+heard from human lips. I motioned Mr. Marx back.
+
+"I can manage him alone, I think; and the sight of you upsets him. Will
+you follow us down?"
+
+Mr. Marx advanced a step or two, his eyes flashing with anger. Then
+suddenly he turned his back upon us, and, without a word, walked rapidly
+away. I raised my prisoner, and half carried, half dragged him back to
+the farm.
+
+In a few hours the doctor from Rothland had arrived and speedily set the
+broken bones. He seemed much interested in the case and made a careful
+examination.
+
+"Do you think he has been a lunatic long?" I asked.
+
+The doctor shook his head.
+
+"On the contrary," he replied, "I should say his madness has come on
+quite recently--the effect of some severe shock probably. If he is
+treated properly there is no doubt that he will regain his reason."
+
+In a few days the lunatic was pronounced well enough in health to be
+moved; and as all inquiries and advertisements about him proved
+fruitless, he was consigned to the county asylum at Torchester.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+                              MY GUARDIAN.
+
+
+On the third day after my adventure in the park Mr. Ravenor called to see
+me. He came in splashed from head to foot and had evidently ridden a long
+distance and fast. I offered him a chair and some refreshment, for he
+looked pale and tired, but he declined both, and walked slowly up and
+down the room, his hands grasping a long riding-whip behind his back.
+
+"I can only give you a minute or two now, Morton," he said, with some
+slight return of his former brusque _hauteur_; "I am expecting visitors
+from London to-night and must get back to receive them. But there is
+something I must say to you. You will be surprised to hear that your
+mother has left you a considerable property?"
+
+I was very much surprised.
+
+"Are you quite sure of this, Mr. Ravenor?" I ventured to ask. "My mother
+always spoke to me as though we were poor."
+
+"I do not make mistakes," he answered, pausing in his walk and looking
+down upon me from his great height with knitted brows and piercing eyes,
+"least of all in matters of such importance. How much the exact sum will
+amount to I cannot tell yet, but it is more than twenty thousand pounds,
+so you will be able to choose your own profession. What will it be, I
+wonder--the Bar, the Army, the Church, agriculture? Come, you are a boy
+of imagination and have never been in love. You must have had day-dreams
+of some sort. Whither have they led you?"
+
+"Not to any of the professions which you have mentioned," I answered
+promptly.
+
+"Then where? Tell me. I am curious to know."
+
+"My ideas have always been very vague," I said slowly. "I should like to
+live quite away from any town, to read a good deal, and to spend the rest
+of my time out of doors; and then, perhaps, after a time, I might try to
+think something out and put it into words."
+
+"In short, you would like to be an author," Mr. Ravenor broke in, with a
+slight smile.
+
+"Yes; but I should not want to write to amuse people, or to become
+famous," I went on, encouraged by Mr. Ravenor's gravity. "I should like
+to make people think. I should like to make them turn aside from the
+groove of their daily life and realise that the world is full of greater
+and higher things than mere material prosperity. Men seem to me to find
+their daily work and pleasure too absorbing. They think of themselves and
+others only as individuals, never as limbs of a great common humanity
+with a mighty destiny. The world grows narrower and narrower for them as
+they grow older, instead of broader and broader. It is because they
+neglect the use of their imagination--at least, so it seems to me."
+
+"Have you read Hibbet's little pamphlets?" Mr. Ravenor asked.
+
+"Both of them," I answered. "I like his ideas."
+
+"Have your clothes come from Torchester?" he inquired, with apparent
+irrelevance.
+
+"Yes; they came last week," I told him, wondering.
+
+"Very well; put on your dress-suit and come up to the Castle at eight
+o'clock to-night. You shall dine with me and meet Hibbet."
+
+Meet Sir Richard Hibbet! Dine at the same table! My cheeks flushed and my
+heart beat fast. Life was opening out for me.
+
+"Yes; he and Marris and Williams, the publisher, you know, are all
+staying at the Castle. There will be some more of them down to-night.
+Don't be late. I will find time, if I can, to have some talk with you,
+for I want you to go to Dr. Randall's next week."
+
+He nodded and took his departure. I watched him mount his horse and
+gallop away across the open park. Then I started for a solitary walk, to
+ponder my altered prospects.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+                         MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.
+
+
+At a quarter to eight I stood in the great hall of Ravenor Castle. On my
+first visit its vastness and gloom had somewhat chilled me; now it was
+altogether different. A small army of servants in picturesque livery and
+with powdered hair were moving noiselessly about. Soft lights were
+burning on many brackets, dispelling the deep shades which had hung
+somewhat drearily about; and there was a fragrant perfume of flowers and
+a pleasant sense of warmth in the air. I began to understand at once the
+stories I had heard of the luxury and magnificence with which Mr. Ravenor
+entertained his guests on the rare occasions when he threw open his
+doors.
+
+Mr. Ravenor was in his private rooms, I was told, and his own groom of
+the chambers, who had been summoned to take my name, ushered me, after a
+moment's hesitation, into the library. I walked to the fire, for I was
+cold, probably through being unused to wearing such thin clothes; and,
+standing there with my hands behind my back, looked around with a feeling
+almost of awe at the vast collection of books with which I was
+surrounded.
+
+"And who are you, please?"
+
+I started and looked in the direction from which the voice--a sweet,
+childish treble--came. Seated demurely in the centre of a large armchair,
+with tumbled hair, and a book upon her lap, was a very young lady. Her
+clear blue eyes were fixed calmly but inquiringly upon me, as though
+expecting an immediate answer, and there was a slight frown upon her
+forehead. Altogether, for such a diminutive maiden, she appeared rather
+formidable.
+
+"I didn't know that you were there," I said, in explanation of my start.
+"My name is Morton--Philip Morton."
+
+She looked me over gravely and critically, and succeeded in making me
+feel uncomfortable. Apparently, however, the examination ended in my
+favour, for the frown disappeared and she closed her book.
+
+"Philip is pretty," she said condescendingly. "I don't think much of
+Morton. I rather like Philip, though."
+
+"I--I'm glad of that," I answered lamely. It was very ridiculous, but I
+could think of nothing else to say. I wanted to say something brilliant,
+but it wouldn't come; so I stood still and looked at her and got rather
+red in the face.
+
+"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
+
+"Haven't the least idea," I admitted.
+
+She leaned her small, delicate head upon her hand and began swaying her
+feet slowly backwards and forwards.
+
+"I am Lady Beatrice Cecilia--my mother is Lady Silchester," she said. "Do
+you think it is a pretty name?"
+
+"Very," I answered, biting my lip; "much prettier than mine."
+
+"Do you know, I think you are a nice boy!" she proceeded. "I rather like
+you."
+
+"I'm so glad!" I answered, feeling unreasonably delighted. "I'm sure that
+I like you," I added fervently.
+
+"It's very good of you to say so, when you've only just seen me," she
+remarked; "but you can't be quite sure. You don't know anything about me,
+you see. I might be dreadfully disagreeable."
+
+"But I'm sure you're not," I answered, feeling that I was getting on.
+
+She was good enough to seem pleased at my confidence; but she made no
+further remark for a minute or two, during which I racked my brains in
+vain for some effective remark, with my eyes fixed upon her. She
+certainly made a very charming picture, curled up in the great black oak
+chair, with the firelight playing upon her ruddy golden hair and
+glistening in her bright eyes.
+
+"You've been reading, haven't you?" I asked, pointing to the book which
+lay in her lap.
+
+"It's not a nice book at all!" she said decidedly. "I don't like any of
+the books here. Oh!"
+
+I turned round quickly, for I saw that she was looking behind me.
+Standing on the threshold of his inner room was the tall, dark figure of
+Mr. Ravenor, handsomer than ever, it seemed to me, in his plain evening
+dress.
+
+Slowly he advanced out of the shadows, with a faint smile upon his pale
+face, and laid his hand upon her shoulder, looking first at my little
+hostess and then at me.
+
+"So you've been entertaining one of my guests for me, Trixie, have you?"
+he said. "Rather late for you to be up, isn't it? Your nurse has been
+looking for you everywhere."
+
+"Then I suppose I must go," Lady Beatrice Cecilia remarked deliberately.
+She rose, shook her hair out, and, replacing the book which she had been
+reading upon the shelf, prepared to depart. But first she came up to
+where I was standing on the hearthrug and held out her little white hand.
+
+"Good-night, Philip Morton," she said, looking up at me with a grave
+smile. "I am very glad that you came in here to talk to me. I was so
+dull."
+
+I made some reciprocative speech, which, if it was somewhat awkwardly
+expressed, had at least the merit of earnestness, and my eyes followed
+her admiringly as she walked to the door and disappeared with a backward
+glance and a smile. Then I started and coloured, to find that Mr. Ravenor
+was watching me.
+
+"I don't know why they should have brought you here," he said. "Come this
+way."
+
+I followed Mr. Ravenor across the hall into a suite of rooms hung with
+satin, opening out one from another, and seeming to my inexperience like
+a succession of brilliantly-lit fairy chambers. In the smallest and most
+remote room three men were standing talking together, and in a low chair
+by their side reclined Lady Silchester, holding a dainty screen of
+peacock feathers between her face and the fire, and listening to the
+conversation with a slightly bored air. She was in full evening toilette,
+and several rows of diamonds flashed and sparkled with every rise and
+fall of her snow-white throat. Afterwards I grew to look upon Lady
+Silchester as a good type of the well-bred society woman; but then she
+was a revelation to me--the revelation of a new species.
+
+My appearance seemed at first to surprise and then slightly to discompose
+her, but both emotions passed away at once and she welcomed me with a
+charming little smile as she languidly raised her hand and placed it
+within mine for a moment.
+
+At our entrance the conversation ceased for a moment. Mr. Ravenor laid
+his hand upon my shoulder and turned towards the little group.
+
+"Sir Richard, let me introduce to you a young ward of mine and a disciple
+of yours. Sir Richard Hibbet--Mr. Morton; Professor Marris--Mr. Morton;
+Mr. Later--Mr. Morton."
+
+They all shook hands with me, and, widening their circle a little,
+continued the conversation.
+
+This was interrupted presently by the announcement of dinner, the
+Professor taking in our hostess, the others following, Mr. Ravenor and I
+bringing up the rear.
+
+There was no lack of conversation during dinner, though gradually it
+turned towards purely literary matters and remained there. To me it was
+altogether fascinating, although it was often beyond my comprehension.
+
+Long after Lady Silchester had departed we sat round the small table
+glittering with plate and finely-cut glass, and loaded with choice
+flowers and wonderful fruits; and my senses were almost dazed by the
+brilliancy of my material surroundings, and the ever-flowing
+conversation, which seemed always to be teaching me something new and
+opening up fresh fields of thought. At times I scarcely knew which most
+to admire--the dry, pungent wit and caustic remarks of the Professor; the
+perfectly expressed, classical English of Mr. Later; the sound, good
+sense of Sir Richard, seasoned with an apparently inexhaustible stock of
+anecdotes and quotations culled from all imaginable sources; or the
+brilliant epigrams, the trenchant criticisms, and the occasional flashes
+of genuine eloquence by means of which Mr. Ravenor, with rare art,
+continually stimulated the talk.
+
+Almost unnoticed, Mr. Marx, still in his morning coat, with pale face and
+dark rims under his eyes, had entered and sank wearily into a seat; but,
+although he listened with apparent interest, he took no part in the war
+of words which was flashing around him. Suddenly it all came to an end.
+Mr. Ravenor glanced at his watch and rose.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I must ask you to excuse me for an hour. If you
+care to see the library, Mr. Marx will show it you, or the smoking-room
+and billiard-room are at your service. Or if you care to remain here
+there is plenty more of the yellow-seal claret and the cigars are upon
+the table. Philip, I want you."
+
+I rose and followed him towards the door. As I did so I had to pass Mr.
+Marx, who had left his seat on some pretext. He leaned over towards me,
+haggard and pale, and pushed a slip of paper into my fingers.
+
+"Read it at once," he muttered, in a quick, low tone. Then he moved up
+and took Mr. Ravenor's place at the head of the table.
+
+I felt inclined to throw it back to him; but I did not. Passing across
+the hall, I unfolded it and read these few words, scrawled in a large,
+shaking hand:
+
+"You must not go to Dr. Randall's. Mr. Ravenor will give you a choice. Go
+anywhere but there. If you neglect this warning you will repent it all
+your life. I swear it. Tear this up,"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+                          MR. MARX'S WARNING.
+
+
+My first impulse, on glancing through Mr. Marx's brief note, was to show
+it to Mr. Ravenor; but, after a second's consideration, I changed my
+mind. Mr. Marx was a complete mystery to me. At times it seemed possible
+that the interest which he undoubtedly showed in me was genuine and
+kindly, and I struggled against my dislike of the man. Then I remembered
+his brutal conduct to the lunatic and the other inexplicable parts of his
+behaviour, and the darkest suspicions and doubts began to take shape in
+my imagination.
+
+There was something altogether mysterious about him--his connection with
+Mr. Ravenor and his manner towards myself. I was puzzled and more than
+half inclined to decide against the man whom personally I had grown to
+detest. But, on the other hand, I was young and still an optimist with
+regard to my fellow-men.
+
+What harm had I done Mr. Marx, and why should he seek to injure me? It
+seemed improbable, almost ridiculous. So in the end a certain sense of
+fairness induced me to respect his postscript, and I said nothing to Mr.
+Ravenor about his secretary's warning.
+
+My interview with him was a very short one indeed. He led the way into
+the study in which I had first seen him and, closing the door, turned
+round and faced me upon the hearthrug. The room was dimly lit, but where
+he stood the fast-dying fire cast a faint glow around his tall, straight
+figure, and showed me a face cold and resolute as marble, but not unkind.
+
+"Philip Morton," he said slowly, "it has occurred to me that in wishing
+you to go to Lincolnshire, I may have been influenced to a certain extent
+by selfish considerations. If you have the slightest preference for a
+public school----"
+
+I knew instinctively whence that idea had come and I interrupted him.
+
+"Nothing should induce me to go anywhere else but to Dr. Randall's!" I
+exclaimed firmly.
+
+"In that case," he continued, "I wish you to leave tomorrow. You will be
+ready?"
+
+I assented at once.
+
+"I, too, am leaving here--it may be for a very long while," he went on.
+"In two months' time I hope to start for Persia, and between now and then
+my movements will be uncertain. I cannot settle down here. It is
+useless."
+
+A great weariness shone out of his dark blue eyes and he stifled a sigh.
+Some thought or memory coloured with regret had flashed across his mind;
+but what it was I could not tell.
+
+"You remember your mother's letter to you and her dying request?" he
+continued, in a changed tone. "I cannot explain it now, although I must
+remind you of it. This packet"--and he passed me a large, sealed
+envelope--"contains a chequebook, the address of the lawyer who will
+manage your affairs, and a letter which you will not open unless you have
+certain news and proof of my death. You will find that you are,
+comparatively speaking, rich. How this comes about I cannot tell you now,
+and you must remember your mother's dying injunction not to seek to find
+out until the time comes, when you will know everything. At present, I
+can only assure you that the money is yours by right, that it is not a
+gift, and that no one else has any claim to it. That is all I can say
+upon the subject. Are you satisfied?"
+
+Curiosity seemed a mean thing to me as I listened to my guardian's words
+and looked into his sad, stern face. All the old fascination which I had
+felt from the first in his presence was strong upon me that night.
+Whatever he had bidden me to do I should have done it. And so I answered:
+
+"I am satisfied. What you tell me is mine I will take and ask no
+questions."
+
+"That is well," he said quietly. "And now, one word about your future,
+Philip, for to-morrow you will take up some of the responsibilities of
+early manhood. A great man once said that the best adviser of youth was
+the man whose own life had been a failure. If this be anything more than
+a paradox, then there can be no one better fitted for that post than I.
+Already the flavour of life has become like dead ashes between my teeth;
+and the fault is my own. Mr. Marris was talking a great deal of nonsense
+in the drawing-room before dinner this evening. I want to say just one or
+two words to you on the same subject, and remember that I speak as an
+outsider, impersonally.
+
+"Before I was twenty-one years old, I had studied in most of the schools
+of modern philosophy, and had thrown off my religion like an old rag. I
+was inflated with a sense of my own intellectual superiority over other
+men. It was philosophy which taught men to live, I declared, and
+philosophy which taught them to die. With that motto before me, I
+carefully set myself to annihilate every vestige of faith with which I
+had ever been endowed. I succeeded--too well. It is dead; and sometimes I
+fear that it will never reawaken. And what am I? As miserable a man as
+ever drew breath upon this earth. It seems to me as though I had crushed
+a part of my very life and the sore will rankle for ever.
+
+"There is a part of man's nature, Philip--that is to say, of such men as
+I have been and you will be--the sympathetic, emotional, reverential
+part, which cries out for some belief in a higher, an infinite Power, for
+some sort of religion which it can cling to and entwine with every action
+of daily life. You must satisfy that craving if you desire to know
+happiness. For me there is no such knowledge. I have deliberately
+committed spiritual suicide; I have torn up faith by the roots and have
+made a void in my heart, which nothing else can ever fill. Frankly, I
+tell you, Philip, that there are times when religion of any sort seems to
+me no better than a fairy-tale. It need not seem so to you. Shape out for
+yourself any form of belief--that of the Christian is as good as any
+other--and resolutely cling to it. It is my advice to you--mine who
+believe in no God and no future state. Follow it and farewell!"
+
+He held out his hand and clasped mine for a moment. I would have spoken,
+but before I could find words he had disappeared through a curtained door
+into his inner apartment. So I turned away and went.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+                           A LOST PHOTOGRAPH.
+
+
+It was about five o'clock on as dreary an afternoon as I ever remember,
+when the slow train, which crawls always at a most miserable pace from
+Peterborough across the eastern counties, deposited me at Little Drayton.
+Besides the station-master there were but two people on the wet
+platform--one a porter, who made for my bags with almost wolflike
+alacrity after a moment's amazed stare, at me, presumably at the rare
+advent of a passenger with luggage; the other was a thin, dark young man,
+clad in a light mackintosh with very large checks, and smoking a long
+cigar. Whilst I was collecting my things he came leisurely up and
+accosted me.
+
+"Your name Morton?" he inquired, without removing his cigar from his
+teeth.
+
+I assented.
+
+"Have you come down to meet me?" I asked.
+
+"Yes; old Randall's gone out to dinner, so he asked Cis and me to come
+and fetch you. Cart's outside; but we can't take all the luggage. Just
+look out what you want, will you, and we'll send for the rest to-morrow."
+
+I selected a portmanteau and followed him out of the station. A light,
+four-wheeled brown cart was waiting, drawn by a pair of small,
+clever-looking cobs, altogether a very smart turnout.
+
+"Pitch that bag in behind, porter," ordered my new acquaintance. "Now,
+then, Mr. Morton, if you're ready we'll be off. Your train's half an hour
+late, and Cis will be wondering what's become of us."
+
+"Is Cis Mr. Ravenor's nephew, Silchester?" I asked, as I clambered up
+beside him.
+
+"Oh, yes! By the bye, I ought to have introduced myself, oughtn't I? My
+name is de Cartienne--Leonard de Cartienne."
+
+"And are you Dr. Randall's other pupil?" I inquired.
+
+"Yes; I'm doing a grind there. Beastly slow it is, too. You'll be sorry
+you've come, I can tell you, before very long."
+
+Looking around me, I was inclined to think that that was not improbable.
+It was too dark to see far, but what I could see was anything but
+promising. The country was perfectly flat, dreary, and barren, and the
+view was unbroken by tree, or hedge, or hill. By the side of the road was
+a small canal, over the sullen waters of which, and across the road,
+brooded spectral-like clouds of mist. The rain still fell rapidly, and
+the wheels of our cart ran noiselessly in the sandy, paste-like mud.
+
+"Ghastly night, isn't it?" remarked my companion, breaking the silence
+again.
+
+"Rather!" I assented vigorously. "What a flat, ugly country, too! I never
+saw anything like it."
+
+"Beastly country! beastly place altogether!" de Cartienne agreed. "I'm
+jolly sick of it, I can tell you! Steady, Brandy! steady, sir!" giving
+the near animal a cut with the whip.
+
+"What do you call your horses?" I asked curiously.
+
+"Brandy and Soda. Jolly neat name for a pair. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Uncommon, at any rate," I answered ambiguously. "Didn't you say that we
+were to call for Silchester somewhere?"
+
+"Mean Cis? Oh, yes; we've got to pick him up at the Rose and Crown."
+
+"A hotel?"
+
+"Well, hardly. Fact is," de Cartienne continued, dropping his voice a
+little, and glancing behind to see whether the groom was listening--"fact
+is, Cis is a bit inclined to make a fool of himself. There's a pretty
+girl at this place and he puts in an uncommon lot of time there. Awfully
+pretty girl she is, really," he added confidentially. "Won't stand any
+nonsense, either. The place is only a pub., after all, but everyone who
+goes there has to behave himself. She won't have a lot of fellows
+dangling about after her, though she might have the whole town if she
+liked. Makes her all the more dangerous, I think."
+
+"And Lord Silchester----"
+
+"Hang the 'lord'!" interrupted my companion, whipping his horses.
+
+"Well, Silchester, then! I suppose he admires her very much?"
+
+"Admires her! I should think he does! He's awful spoons on her! It's
+quite sickening the way they go on sometimes. There's a regular stew on
+there to-night, though, tremendous scene."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Well, it seems that Milly's father--he's the landlord of the place, you
+know--left home about a month ago, saying he was going up to London on
+some business. He was expected back in a fortnight or three weeks; but
+he's never turned up and he hasn't written. So at last Milly sent up to
+the place where he always stops in town and also to some friends whom he
+was going to see. This morning a reply comes from both of them. Nothing
+has been seen or heard of him at all. Of course, Milly imagines the worst
+at once, goes off into hysterics, and, when we called this evening on our
+way down, was half out of her mind."
+
+"And so Silchester stopped with her to console her?"
+
+"Exactly," assented de Cartienne, with a queer smile. "Shouldn't wonder
+if he succeeded, either!"
+
+We entered the street of an old-fashioned, straggling town, the
+glimmering lights of which had been in sight for some time. de Cartienne,
+sitting forward a little, devoted his whole attention to the horses, for
+the stones were wet and slippery, and Brandy seemed to shy at everything
+and anything which presented itself, from the little pools of water
+glistening in the lamplight, which lay in the hollows of the road, down
+to his own shadow. I looked round curiously. The old-fashioned
+market-place, the quaintly built houses, the dimly lit shops, and little
+knots of gaping rustics, whom our rapid approach scattered right and
+left, were, at any rate, more interesting and pleasanter to look upon
+than the damp, miserable country outside. Suddenly we pulled up with a
+jerk outside a small, but clean-looking inn, and the groom leaped down
+from behind and made his way to the horses' heads.
+
+"Take them up the street a little, John," said de Cartienne, as he
+descended. "No need to advertise Cis's folly to the whole town," he
+added, in a lower tone. "Come on, Morton, we'll go and rout him out."
+
+I stepped across the wet pavement after him and, stooping low down,
+crossed the threshold of the "Rose and Crown." We passed by a room in
+which several labouring men were drinking mugs of beer, and entered the
+bar, in which a rosy-cheeked country damsel was exchanging noisy and not
+too choice badinage with one or two young men who hung about her. From
+here another door led into an inner room and at this de Cartienne
+somewhat ostentatiously knocked. There was a second's pause; then a
+clear, pleasant voice sang out "Come in!" and we entered.
+
+It was a small, cosy room, not ill-furnished, and with a cheerful fire
+burning in the grate. Leaning against the mantelpiece, with his face
+towards us, was Cis, whose likeness to Lady Beatrice was so remarkable
+that I liked him heartily before we had exchanged a word. Standing by his
+side, with her head suspiciously near his shoulder, was a very fair girl,
+with nice figure and complexion and large blue eyes. Her face was
+certainly pretty, but it was not of a very high type of prettiness. The
+features, although regular of their sort, were not in any way refined or
+_spirituelle_, nor was there anything in her expression to redeem her
+from the mediocrity of good looks.
+
+Still, she was undoubtedly a nice-looking girl, quite pretty enough to be
+the belle of a country place, and, on the whole, I was rather relieved to
+find her attractions of so ordinary a kind. There could scarcely be
+anything dangerous, I thought, in this good-humoured doll's face; she did
+not appear to have the daring or character to lead her boyish admirer
+over the borders of a spooning sentimentality. At any rate, that was not
+written in her face. A blunt physiognomist would probably have declared
+that there was not enough of the devil in her to fire the blood even of
+an impetuous, generous boy and urge him on to recklessness. It seemed so
+to me and I was glad of it.
+
+Just at present there were traces of tears in her face and a generally
+woe-begone expression. Her companion, too, looked upset and sympathetic;
+but he glanced up with a bright smile when we entered.
+
+"You're Philip Morton, I suppose?" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.
+"Glad to see you! Heard of you from my uncle, you know!" I shook hands
+with him and he introduced me formally to the young woman at his side,
+calling her Miss Hart. Then he turned to me again.
+
+"I quite meant to have been at the station to meet you," he said; "but we
+called here first and I--I was detained."
+
+"It's of no consequence at all," I assured him. "Mr. de Cartienne was
+there."
+
+"And Mr. de Cartienne having had to wait half an hour in the rain at that
+infernal old shed they call a station, requires a little refreshment,"
+chimed in the person named. "Will the fair Millicent condescend, or shall
+I ring?"
+
+She rose and, crossing the room, opened the door into the bar.
+
+"Brandy-and-soda for me," ordered de Cartienne. "Cis is drinking whisky,
+I see, so he'll have another one, and we'll have a large bottle of
+Apollinaris between us. Morton, what'll you have?"
+
+I decided upon claret and hot water, never having tasted spirits. De
+Cartienne made a wry face, but ordered it without remark.
+
+"I say, Morton, I don't know what you'll think of us shacking about in a
+public-house like this, and bringing you here, your first night, too!"
+exclaimed Silchester, dragging his chair up to mine. "Bad form, isn't it?
+But it is so dull in the evenings and Milly's no end of a nice girl. No
+one could help liking her. Besides, she's in dreadful trouble just now,"
+he continued, dropping his voice. "Her father has disappeared suddenly.
+Awfully mysterious affair and no mistake. We can't make head or tail of
+it."
+
+"It is uncommonly queer," admitted de Cartienne, who was lounging against
+the wall beside us. "I should have said that he'd gone off on the spree
+somewhere, but he couldn't have kept it up so long as this."
+
+"Besides, he'd only a few pounds with him," Cecil remarked.
+
+"Seems almost as though he'd come to grief in some way," I said.
+
+"I daren't tell Milly, but I don't know what else to think," Cecil
+acknowledged.
+
+A wild idea flashed for a moment into my mind, only to die away again
+almost as rapidly. It was too utterly improbable. Nevertheless, I asked
+Cecil a question with some curiosity:
+
+"What sort of looking man was he?"
+
+Cecil and de Cartienne both began to describe him at once, and, as de
+Cartienne modified or contradicted everything Cecil said, I was soon in a
+state of complete bewilderment as to the personality of the missing man.
+It seemed that he was short, and of medium height; that he was fair, and
+inclined to be dark, stout and thin, pale and ruddy. Milly put in a word
+or two now and then; and, what with de Cartienne dissenting from
+everything she said, and Cecil, a little perplexed, siding first with one
+and then with the other, the description naturally failed to carry to my
+mind the slightest impression of Mr. Hart's appearance. At last, rather
+impatiently, I stopped them.
+
+"I'm afraid I am guilty of a somewhat unreasonable curiosity," I said,
+"for I haven't any real reason for asking; but haven't you a photograph
+of your father, Miss Hart? I can't follow the description at all."
+
+I happened to be looking towards de Cartienne while I made my request,
+and suddenly, from no apparent cause, I saw him start, and a strange look
+came into his face. At first I thought he must be ill; but, seeing my
+eyes fixed upon him, he seemed to recover himself instantly, though he
+was still deadly pale.
+
+"Why, what the mischief are you staring at, Morton?" asked Cecil.
+
+"Oh, nothing!" I answered. "I thought that de Cartienne was ill, that's
+all."
+
+Cecil glanced at him curiously.
+
+"By George! he does look rather white about the gills, doesn't he? Say,
+old chap, are you ill?"
+
+de Cartienne shook his head.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing!" he said carelessly. "Don't all stare at me as though
+I were some sort of natural curiosity, please. I feel a bit queer, but
+it's passing off. I think, if Miss Milly will allow me, I'll go and sit
+down in the other room by myself for a few minutes."
+
+"I'll come with you!" exclaimed Cecil, springing up. "Poor old chap!"
+
+"No, don't, please!" protested de Cartienne. "I would rather be alone; I
+would indeed. I shall be all right directly."
+
+He quitted the room by another door, and we three were left alone. Cecil
+and Miss Milly began a conversation in a low tone, and I, feeling
+somewhat _de trop_, took up a local newspaper and affected to be engaged
+in its contents. After a few minutes, however, Cecil remembered my
+existence.
+
+"By the bye, Milly," he said, "Morton was asking you whether you had not
+a photograph of your father. There's one in the sitting-room, isn't
+there?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Well, we'll go and look at it and see how Leonard is. He looked
+uncommonly seedy, didn't he? Come along, Morton."
+
+We crossed a narrow passage and entered a small parlour. Miss Hart walked
+up to the mantelpiece and Cecil and I remained looking round.
+
+"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Leonard isn't here; I wonder where----"
+
+He was interrupted by a cry of blank surprise from Miss Hart.
+
+"What's the matter now? How you startled me, Milly!" he exclaimed,
+hurrying to her side. "What is it?"
+
+"Why, the photograph!"
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"It's gone!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+                         LEONARD DE CARTIENNE.
+
+
+We all three stood and looked at one another for a moment, Milly Hart
+with her finger still pointing to the vacant place where the photograph
+had been. Then Cecil broke into a short laugh.
+
+"We're looking very tragical about it," he said lightly. "Mysterious
+joint disappearance of Leonard de Cartienne and a photograph of Mr. Hart.
+Now, if it had been a photograph of a pretty girl instead of a
+middle-aged man, we might have connected the two. Hallo!"
+
+He broke off in his speech and turned round. Standing in the doorway,
+looking at us, was Leonard de Cartienne, with a slight smile on his thin
+lips.
+
+"Behold the missing link--I mean man!" exclaimed Cecil. "Good old
+Leonard! Do you know, you gave us quite a fright. We expected to find you
+here and the room was empty. Are you better?"
+
+"Yes, thanks! I'm all right now," he answered. "I've been out in the yard
+and had a blow. What's Milly looking so scared about? And what was it I
+heard you say about a photograph?"
+
+"Father's likeness has gone," she explained, turning round with tears in
+her eyes. "It was there on the mantelpiece this afternoon and now, when
+we came in to look at it, it has gone!"
+
+"I should think that, if it really has disappeared," de Cartienne
+remarked incredulously, "the servant must have moved it. Ask her."
+
+Miss Hart rang the bell and in the meantime we looked about the room. It
+was all in vain. We could find no trace of it, nor could the servant who
+answered the summons give us any information. She had seen it in its
+usual place early in the morning when she had been dusting. Since then
+she had not entered the room.
+
+"Deuced queer thing!" declared Cecil, when at last we had relinquished
+the search. "Deuced queer!" he repeated meditatively, with his hands
+thrust deep down in his trousers' pockets and his eyes resting idly upon
+de Cartienne's face. "But we can't do anything more, that's certain. We
+really must be off, Milly. We've been here almost an hour already, and
+Brandy and Soda must be getting restless, and you must be famished, I'm
+sure, Morton. Come along! Good-bye, Milly! Keep your spirits up, old
+girl! The governor'll be bound to turn up again in a day or two. And
+don't you worry about the photograph. It must be somewhere."
+
+"But it isn't!" she declared tearfully. "We've looked everywhere! Oh,
+what shall I do?"
+
+Cecil assumed a most lugubrious expression and looked down
+sympathetically into her tear-stained face. She certainly was uncommonly
+pretty.
+
+"You go on, you fellows," he said. "I'll be out in a minute. I'll drive,
+Leonard. Don't think you're quite up to it."
+
+de Cartienne nudged my arm and we went off together and made our way up
+the street to the inn, under the covered archway of which the trap was
+drawn up. In a few minutes Cecil joined us.
+
+"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," he said, as he lighted a cigarette and
+clambered up to the box-seat. "No, you come in front, Morton. That's
+right. Very odd about that photograph, isn't it? It's gone and no
+mistake. We've been having another look round."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed de Cartienne impatiently. "What a fuss about a
+trifle! A girl has no memory at all! I expect she moved it herself. Bet
+you it turns up by the morning."
+
+"I think not," Cecil replied quietly, as he gathered up the reins. "Now
+then, hold on behind!"
+
+We rattled off down the street and out into the open country again at a
+pace which precluded any conversation. The low hedges and stunted trees
+by the roadside seemed to fly past us, and a sudden turn, which almost
+jerked me from my seat, brought us in sight of a wide semi-circle of
+twinkling lights, which seemed to stretch right across the horizon.
+
+"What are they?" I asked, pointing forward.
+
+"Those? Oh, fishing-smacks!" answered Cecil.
+
+"Is that the sea, then?" I asked eagerly.
+
+He burst out laughing.
+
+"Why, what else do you suppose it is?" he exclaimed. "Can't you hear it?"
+
+I bent my head and listened. The faint night breeze was just sufficient
+to carry to our ears the dull, monotonous roar of an incoming tide.
+
+"Not a very cheerful row, is it?" observed Cecil.
+
+"Cheerful! I call it the most infernally miserable sound I ever heard!"
+growled de Cartienne, from the back seat, "enough to give a fellow the
+horrors any day!"
+
+"See that bright light close ahead?" said Cecil, pointing with his whip.
+"That's Borden Tower, where we hang out, you know. We shall be there in a
+minute or two."
+
+"Perhaps!" growled de Cartienne from behind, making a nervous clutch at
+the side of the trap, "Cis, my dear fellow, you're not driving a
+fire-engine, and there's nothing to be gained by this confounded hurry.
+George! I was nearly out that time."
+
+We had turned round a sharp corner into a winding drive, devoid of trees,
+and planted only with stunted shrubs. On one side, between us and the
+shore, was a long, irregular plantation of small fir trees, through which
+the night wind was moaning with a sound not unlike the more distant roar
+of the sea. Directly in front loomed a high dark building, standing out
+with almost startling abruptness against a void of sky and moor.
+
+"Here we are!" exclaimed Cecil, pulling up with a flourish before the
+front entrance. "John, help down the poor, nervous invalid behind, and
+take Brandy and Soda round to the stable at once. They're too hot to
+stand still in this damp air a second."
+
+We passed across a large but somewhat dreary hall into a warm,
+comfortable dining-room. A bright fire was blazing in the grate, and a
+table in the centre of the room was very tastefully laid for dinner.
+
+"Make yourself at home, Morton!" exclaimed Cecil, standing on the
+hearthrug and stretching out a numbed hand to the blaze. "Draw an
+easy-chair up to the fire while James unpacks your traps and sees to your
+room. Leonard, ring the bell, there's a good fellow, and let them know
+we're ready for dinner."
+
+"Thanks; I think I'll go upstairs at once," I remarked.
+
+"All right! Here's James; he'll show you your room. One servant between
+three of us now. Good old James! I say, Morton, no swallow-tails, you
+know."
+
+I nodded and followed the man, who was waiting in the doorway, to my
+room.
+
+After my bare-floored, low-ceilinged attic at the farm, the apartment
+into which I was ushered seemed a very temple of luxury. There was a soft
+carpet upon the floor, many easy chairs, an Oriental divan, mirrors, and
+solid, handsomely carved furniture. Leading out of it on one side was a
+bath-room and on the other a small, cosy sitting-room, or study.
+
+"Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?" inquired the man, after
+he had poured out my hot water and set out the contents of my
+portmanteau.
+
+I shook my head and dismissed him. After a very brief toilet I hastened
+downstairs.
+
+The dinner was remarkably good and I was very hungry; but I found time to
+notice two things. The first was that Cecil drank a great deal more wine
+than at his age was good for him; and the second, that de Cartienne, who
+drank very little himself, concealed that fact as far as he was able and
+passed the bottle continually to Cecil. This did not much surprise me,
+for I had already formed my own opinion of de Cartienne.
+
+After dinner the man who waited upon us brought in some coffee and
+withdrew. Cecil, whose cheeks were a little flushed, and whose eyes were
+sparkling with more than ordinary brightness, rose and stretched himself.
+
+"I say, Leonard," he exclaimed, "let's adjourn to your room and have a
+hand at cards! Shall we?"
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders, but did not offer to move.
+
+"I'm not particularly keen on cards to-night," he remarked, with a yawn.
+"I believe, if you had your own way, you'd play from morning to night."
+
+"Oh, hang it all, there's nothing else to be done!" Cecil answered. "If
+we stay down here we can't smoke, and we shall have old Grumps back
+bothering presently."
+
+"I forgot we couldn't smoke," de Cartienne said, rising. "Come along,
+then!"
+
+"You don't mind, Morton, do you?" Cecil asked, turning towards me. "It's
+awfully cosy up in Len's room."
+
+"Certainly not," I answered, finishing my coffee. "I'll come, but I can't
+play."
+
+"Oh, that doesn't matter! You can watch us for a bit, and you'll soon
+pick it up. Hi, James!" Cecil sang out, as that worthy showed himself at
+the door for a minute, "bring us up some whisky and half a dozen bottles
+of seltzer water into Mr. de Cartienne's room, will you? Look sharp,
+there's a good fellow!"
+
+de Cartienne's rooms, especially his study, were furnished far more
+luxuriously than mine and in excellent taste. The walls and chimney-piece
+were covered with charming little sketches, a few foreign prints,
+photographs, and dainty little trifles of bric-a-brac. Except for the
+photographs, some of which were a little _risque_, it was more like a
+lady's boudoir than a man's sitting-room.
+
+de Cartienne and Cecil seated themselves at a small round table and began
+to play almost immediately. I drew an easy chair up to the fire, and
+closed my eyes as though I intended going to sleep. As a matter of fact,
+I meant to watch the game, and closely, too. But Fate decided otherwise.
+I was really very sleepy, and, though I struggled against it, I was
+obliged to yield in the end. I fell asleep, and it must have been nearly
+two hours before I was awakened by a touch on my arm.
+
+"Wake up, Morton, old chap! It's time we were off to our rooms."
+
+I sat up and looked at my watch. It was past midnight.
+
+Cecil was leaning against the table, with his hands in his pockets,
+looking pale and weary, but exultant.
+
+"I've been in rare luck to-night!" he exclaimed. "Won a couple of ponies
+from poor old Len, and a whole hatful of I O U's. Here they go!" And he
+swept a little pile of crumpled papers into the fire.
+
+I glanced at de Cartienne to see how losing had affected him. Not in the
+ordinary way, at any rate. He was sitting back in his chair, with his
+arms crossed, a cigarette between his teeth and an inscrutable smile upon
+his thin lips. Somehow I did not like his expression. There was something
+a little too closely approaching contempt in it as he watched Cecil's
+action and listened to the exultant ring in his tone--something which
+seemed to express a latent power to reverse the result with ease at any
+time he thought proper.
+
+It was rushing to conclusions, no doubt; but as I glanced from Cecil's
+boyish, handsome face, a trifle dissipated just now, but open and candid,
+to the pale, sallow countenance, the large black eyes, and cynical,
+callous expression of his friend, it seemed to me that I was looking from
+the face of the tempted to the face of the tempter. The one seemed like
+the evil genius of the other.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+                            "AS ROME DOES."
+
+
+I awoke on the following morning with that vague, peculiar sense of
+having entered upon an altogether new phase of life. By degrees my
+semi-somnolent faculties reasserted themselves and I remembered where I
+was. My new life had indeed begun in earnest.
+
+I sprang out of bed and pulled up the blind. It was a very strange
+prospect I looked out upon, after the luxuriant hilly scenery of the home
+where I had lived all my life. Before me was a flat, uncultivated common,
+dotted here and there with a few stunted gorse-bushes and numerous
+sand-heaps. Farther away a long stretch of shingle sloped down to the
+foam-crested sea which, under the grey, sunless sky of the early winter's
+morning, had a dull, forbidding appearance. Though it was not an inviting
+prospect, there was something attractive in its novelty, and, dropping
+the blind, I hastened into the bath-room and began dressing.
+
+It was past eight o'clock when I got downstairs, but I saw no one about,
+so I let myself out by the front door and walked down the drive. The
+grounds were small and soon explored, and, having exhausted them, I
+passed through a wicket-gate into a little plantation of pine-trees and
+thence out on to the common. Then, for the first time in my life, I felt
+a strong sea-breeze, and, with my cap in my hand and my face turned
+seawards, I stood for a few moments thoroughly enjoying it.
+
+"Glad to see that you're an early riser, Mr. Morton. It's a habit which,
+I'm sorry to say, my other pupils have not acquired."
+
+I turned round with a start. A tall, thin man, somewhat past middle age,
+with iron-grey hair and thin, regular features, was standing by my side.
+His eyes were the eyes of a visionary and a poet, and his worn,
+thoughtful face bore the unmistakable stamp of the student. I liked his
+appearance, careless and dishevelled though it was in point of attire,
+and knowing that this must be Dr. Randall, I felt a keen sense of relief.
+
+For, bearing in mind the evident habits and last night's occupation of
+Silchester and de Cartienne, I had begun to wonder somewhat
+apprehensively what manner of man the master of such pupils might be. Now
+I felt sure that the idea which had first occurred to me had been the
+correct one, and that the doings of the night before were carried on
+altogether under the rose. The man James had all the appearance of a
+servant whom it would be easy to bribe. This without doubt had been done.
+
+"Perhaps they haven't lived all their lives in the country, sir, as I
+have," I answered. "I have always been used to getting up early."
+
+"So you are my new pupil?" he said. "Well, Mr. Morton, I'm very pleased
+to see you, and I have an idea that we shall get on very well together. I
+was going to walk down to the sea. Will you come with me?"
+
+I followed him along the tortuous path to the shore, and on the way he
+questioned me about my acquirements, putting me through a sort of
+_vivâ-voce_ examination, the result of which appeared to satisfy him.
+
+"This is quite a pleasant surprise to me," he said, as we turned back to
+the house. "You are almost as advanced as de Cartienne and far more so
+than Silchester. I suppose you mean to matriculate?"
+
+I told him that I thought so, but he scarcely seemed to hear. Apparently
+his mind had wandered to some other subject and for nearly a quarter of
+an hour he remained absorbed. I learned afterwards that this was a habit
+of his.
+
+With a start he came to himself, and, apologising for his
+absent-mindedness, led the way back to the house and into the
+breakfast-room. The cloth was laid for four and the urn was hissing upon
+the table; but there was no one else down.
+
+"Is neither Lord Silchester nor Mr. de Cartienne up yet, James?" inquired
+Dr. Randall.
+
+James believed not, but would ascertain. In a few moments he returned.
+
+"Lord Silchester desires me to say that he was reading late last night,
+sir, and has overslept himself; but he will be down as soon as possible,"
+James announced solemnly.
+
+Remembering that James had been in attendance upon us in de Cartienne's
+rooms last night, I thought that this was rather cool. But it was no
+concern of mine and I held my peace.
+
+Dr. Randall frowned slightly and looked vexed.
+
+"It appears to me that Silchester does most of his reading at night," he
+remarked. "I could wish that the results of it were a little more
+apparent. And Mr. de Cartienne, James? Has he overslept himself, too?"
+
+"Mr. de Cartienne will be here immediately, sir," the man announced.
+
+We began breakfast. When we were about half-way through the meal, the
+door opened and de Cartienne appeared. He cast an apprehensive glance at
+me, and then, seeing that Dr. Randall greeted him as usual, looked
+relieved.
+
+Presently the doctor left the table, bidding us join him in the study in
+half an hour. Directly the door had closed de Cartienne leaned back in
+his chair and laughed softly to himself.
+
+"Whatever made you get up so early?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
+"Gave me quite a turn when I heard that you were down and alone with
+Grumps; and Cis was in an awful funk. We were afraid that you might let
+out something about last night--accidentally, of course; and then there
+would have been the deuce to pay and no mistake. James, take my plate and
+bring me a brandy-and-soda. Take care the doctor doesn't see you."
+
+"Whose servant is James?" I asked, as he disappeared--"yours or the
+doctor's?"
+
+"The doctor imagines that he's his, I suppose; but he gets a lot more
+from Cis and me than Grumps pays him," de Cartienne explained carelessly.
+"I knew him before he came here, and got him to apply for the situation
+by promising to double his wages."
+
+"And the advantages?" I asked.
+
+"Obvious enough, I should think. You've seen some of them already, and
+you'll see some more before you've been here long."
+
+"I daresay. Perhaps it would be as well for me to tell you, de Cartienne,
+that what I have seen I don't like."
+
+"Very likely not," he answered carelessly. "I thought directly I saw you
+that you were a bit of a prig--I beg your pardon, I should say, rather
+strait-laced. Still, I don't suppose you'll think it worth your while to
+interfere. You can go your way and Cis and I can go ours."
+
+"That would make it a little dull for me," I said slowly. "Perhaps I am
+not quite so strait-laced as you seem to think. I suppose you would teach
+me how to play cards, if I desired to learn?"
+
+"Oh, certainly! And how to use this also," he remarked, drawing a
+latchkey from his pocket and swinging it carelessly backwards and
+forwards.
+
+"I think I will learn, then," I answered. "After all, this place would be
+ghastly dull if I didn't do as you fellows do."
+
+He looked at me searchingly out of his keen dark eyes, but I sipped my
+coffee leisurely and seemed to be quite unconscious of his scrutiny.
+Apparently he was satisfied, for I saw the hard lines of his mouth relax
+a little and he smiled--a disagreeable smile of contemptuous triumph.
+
+"I've no doubt you'll prove an apt pupil," he remarked. "Have you
+finished? If so, we'll go and have a cigarette in my room before we start
+work with Grumps."
+
+"Does the doctor allow smoking?" I asked.
+
+"To tell you the truth, Morton, we've never asked him. What the eye
+doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over, you know. We go on that
+principle, and smoke in our rooms with the doors shut and windows open.
+Come along!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+                        A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.
+
+
+In less than a week's time I was master of the state of affairs at Borden
+Tower. Dr. Randall, with the best possible intentions, was the worst
+possible man that could have been chosen for the guardianship of two such
+pupils as Lord Silchester and Leonard de Cartienne. He was a scholar and
+a pedant, utterly unsuspicious and ignorant of the ways of the world,
+himself so truthful and honourable that he could scarcely have imagined
+deceit possible in others, and certainly not in his own wards. Of the
+servants, James and his wife were the only ones in authority, and they
+were the tools of de Cartienne.
+
+The latter I could not quite understand. The only thing about him
+perfectly clear was that he was just the worst companion possible for
+Silchester. For the rest, he was so clever that his presence here at all
+as a pupil seemed unnecessary. He appeared to be rich and he took a deep
+interest of some sort in Cecil. Seemingly it was a friendly interest, but
+of that I did not feel assured. At any rate, it was an injurious
+association for Cecil, and I determined to do everything in my power to
+counteract it.
+
+To strike at once, to attempt to show him the folly of the courses into
+which he was being led, I saw would be futile. I must have time and
+opportunity. Any violent measures in such a case would be worse than
+useless. My only course, obnoxious though it was, was to join them in
+their pursuits and try to gain some sort of influence over Cecil, while I
+kept him as far as possible from falling into further mischief.
+
+Accordingly, on the first evening after my arrival at Borden Tower, I was
+initiated into the mysteries of poker and Prussian bank, and on
+subsequent occasions I either joined them or looked on. The result in the
+main was pretty much as I had expected. de Cartienne won always when the
+stakes were very large, and Lord Silchester when they were scarcely worth
+having.
+
+The earlier part of the day was by far the pleasanter to me. In the
+morning we worked with Dr. Randall; in the afternoon we always walked or
+rode--in either case, a visit to the "Rose and Crown" was an invariable
+part of the programme--and in the evening, after dinner, we were supposed
+to read until ten o'clock, although the manner in which we really spent
+that portion of the day was far less profitable.
+
+I had intended paying a special visit to Miss Milly Hart on my own
+account; but either by accident or design--at the time I was not sure
+which--de Cartienne always seemed to frustrate my plans. Even to myself I
+would not acknowledge that I had any other motive save pure curiosity;
+but I was still determined by some means or other to see a photograph of
+the missing Mr. Hart. The strange disappearance of the one in the
+sitting-room at the inn--it had never been found--puzzled me, and
+whenever I caught myself thinking of the incident, it was always in
+connection with Leonard de Cartienne. It seemed very absurd, when I
+considered the matter calmly, but nevertheless I could not escape from
+it. It haunted me, as ideas sometimes will.
+
+One afternoon, about two months after my arrival at Borden Towers, Cecil
+and I were reading together in the study--or, rather, I was endeavouring
+to encourage one of his rare fits of industry by helping him through a
+stiff page of Livy--when the door opened suddenly and de Cartienne
+entered with an open telegram in his hand. Seeing me, he stopped short
+and frowned.
+
+"Hallo, Len! What's up?" Cecil exclaimed. "What have you got there? A
+telegram?"
+
+de Cartienne nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, handed it over.
+
+"It's from Fothergill," he explained. "He is coming over to-night, and
+wants us to dine with him."
+
+"Should like to awfully," Cecil said, "but I don't see how we can. Old
+Grumps wouldn't let us go, of course, and I don't see how we can manage
+it without his knowing."
+
+"Don't you? Well, I do," de Cartienne remarked drily. "Grumps is going
+over to Belscombe this evening to take the chair at the literary society
+there. He'll have to dine at six and leave at a quarter to seven. I know
+that, because I heard him give his orders. That will leave us plenty of
+time to get down into the town by eight o'clock; and we shall be all
+right for coming back, of course."
+
+"That's capital!" declared Cecil, shutting up his Livy with a bang. "We
+will have our revenge on old Fothergill to-night. Just what I've been
+looking forward to."
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "I fancy. Fothergill is a bit too
+good for us. I shan't be very keen on cards to-night, I can tell you. I
+lost more money than I cared about last time he was here."
+
+Cecil laughed carelessly.
+
+"You didn't lose as much as I did," he remarked. "But, then, Fothergill
+had all the luck. I never remember such a run of trumps as he held in
+that last deal; and you played villainously, you know--gave him no end of
+tricks."
+
+The very faintest suspicion of a smile--an evil smile it was--trembled on
+de Cartienne's lips, and he turned away towards the window as though to
+hide it.
+
+"I wasn't in very good form that night," he acknowledged. "I must make up
+for it to-night, if we can get Fothergill to give us our revenge."
+
+Cecil drummed upon the table with his fingers and raised his eyebrows
+slightly.
+
+"He can't very well refuse if we ask for it, can he?"
+
+"I suppose not," de Cartienne answered, lounging across the room towards
+the door. "I'll go and see James and let him know that we shall want the
+latchkey."
+
+"All right. And I say, Len," Cecil continued, "we must take Morton with
+us, of course."
+
+de Cartienne turned round with an angry frown upon his dark face.
+
+"I scarcely see how that would be possible," he said stiffly. "I think it
+would be taking rather a liberty with Fothergill. He only asks us two."
+
+In other circumstances I should promptly have refused to be one of the
+party, especially as the invitation appeared to come from a friend of de
+Cartienne's. But the darkening shade which I had seen flash across de
+Cartienne's face reawakened all my suspicions with regard to him and I
+instantly determined that, by some means or other, I would go. His
+evident reluctance to invite me only strengthened my intention, so,
+although he looked at me as if expecting to hear me express my
+indifference as to whether I went or not, I purposely refrained from
+doing anything of the sort.
+
+"Oh, that's all rot!" Cecil protested. "We can't go off and leave Morton
+boxed up here by himself."
+
+"I don't suppose Morton would care much about it," said de Cartienne
+sullenly.
+
+"On the contrary, I should enjoy it very much indeed," I interposed;
+"although, of course, I don't wish to go if you think that your friend
+would object," I added blandly. "It's rather dull here by oneself."
+
+"Of course it is! Morton, old chap, you shall go with us, never fear!"
+Cecil declared vigorously. "Tell you what, Len, if you won't do the
+agreeable and make things right with Fothergill--as you can, if you like,
+of course--I shan't go, so there! Which is it to be--both or neither?"
+
+"Both, of course," de Cartienne answered, with as good grace as possible.
+"I shouldn't have thought Morton would have cared about it, that's all.
+Be ready punctually at half-past seven, you men."
+
+"All right!" exclaimed Cecil, delighted at getting his own way for a
+change. "Good old Len! Morton, pitch that beastly Livy into the drawer
+and come and change your things. We'll have some fun to-night!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+                      ECARTÉ WITH MR. FOTHERGILL.
+
+
+At a little before eight o'clock de Cartienne, Cecil, and I presented
+ourselves at the bar of the "Bull" Hotel, and inquired for Mr.
+Fothergill. We were shown at once by a waiter into a small private
+sitting-room, brilliantly illuminated and unmistakably cosy. Under the
+chandelier was a small round table glittering with plate and flowers;
+and, standing upon the hearthrug, critically surveying it, was a
+middle-aged, dapper-looking little man, in well-cut evening clothes, with
+a white camellia in his buttonhole.
+
+His hair was slightly tinged with grey, but his moustache was still
+jet-black and elaborately curled and waxed. His forehead was low and his
+full red lips and slightly hooked nose gave him something of a Jewish
+appearance. He had just missed being handsome, and, similarly, had just
+missed being good form; at least, so it seemed to me from my first rapid
+survey, and I did not afterwards change my opinion.
+
+Directly we entered the room he moved forward to meet us, with a smile
+which revealed a very fine set of teeth. I watched him closely as he
+noted the addition to the party, but he betrayed no surprise or
+annoyance. On the contrary, when Cecil had introduced me as his friend
+and fellow-pupil at Borden Tower, he welcomed me with a courtesy which
+was a little effusive. On the whole, I decided that his manners were in
+his favour.
+
+There was some casual conversation, an explanation rather more elaborate
+than seemed to me necessary of his flying visit to Little Drayton, and
+then dinner was announced. Everything had evidently been carefully
+ordered and prepared and was of the best. Mr. Fothergill, whatever his
+shortcomings, made a capital host; and his talk, though a trifle slangy
+and coarse at times, was amusing in the extreme. Altogether, the dinner
+was a success in every respect save one. For four men, two of whom were
+under twenty, there was a great deal too much wine drunk.
+
+I think I scarcely noticed it until the cloth was removed and dessert
+placed upon the table. Then a curious sense of exhilaration in my own
+spirits warned me to be careful and I looked round at once at the others.
+
+Cecil sat directly opposite to me and I saw at a glance how it was with
+him. His hair, which he always kept rather long, but carefully parted,
+was disarranged and untidy; his neat tie had become crumpled and had
+slipped up on one side; his eyes were sparkling, as though with some
+unusual excitement, and there was a glow of colour in his cheeks almost
+hectic in its intensity.
+
+At the head of the table our host was still smiling and debonair, looking
+as though he had been drinking nothing stronger than water; and opposite
+to him de Cartienne was leaning back in his chair with a faint tinge of
+colour in his olive cheeks and a peculiar glitter in his dark eyes which
+was anything but pleasant to look upon. Altogether, the appearance of the
+trio was like a cold douche to me and brought me swiftly back to my
+former watchfulness. I felt instinctively there was mischief brewing.
+
+"I say, Fothergill, let's have a hand at cards!" Cecil exclaimed,
+breaking a momentary silence. "You owe us a revenge, you know! George!
+didn't you clean us out last time we played! We'll clean you out
+to-night, hanged if we won't! What shall it be?"
+
+Mr. Fothergill shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
+
+"Cards--cards! It's always cards!" he answered lightly. "Can't you think
+of something else to do?"
+
+"Yes; hang cards!" muttered de Cartienne.
+
+"All right, I'm agreeable! But what the mischief else is there to do in
+this dull hole?" asked Cecil discontentedly.
+
+"Oh, let's have a chat and a few more glasses of wine!" suggested Mr.
+Fothergill. "I'm so lucky that I hate to play at cards. I always win."
+
+"Do you?" remarked Cecil, a little pettishly. "Well, look here,
+Fothergill! I'll play you at any game you like to-night and beat you--so
+there! I challenge you! You owe me a revenge. I want it!"
+
+Mr. Fothergill looked a little bored.
+
+"Of course, if you put it in that way," he said, "you leave me no
+alternative. But, mind, I warn you beforehand, Silchester, I'm bound to
+win! I don't want to win your money--I had enough last time I was
+here--but if we play I shall win, whether I care about it or not. I'm in
+a tremendous vein of luck just now."
+
+"We'll see about that," Cecil answered doggedly. "Let's ring for some
+cards."
+
+"Or, rather, don't let's play here at all," interrupted de Cartienne.
+"The people are awfully old-fashioned and particular and may want to turn
+as out at eleven o'clock."
+
+"By George! we'll go round to the 'Rose and Crown!'" exclaimed Cecil. "I
+haven't been there for two days. It's a decent little place and we can do
+what we like there," he added, turning to Mr. Fothergill. "You don't
+mind, do you?"
+
+"Not the least in the world!" declared our host, rising and stretching
+himself. "Any place will do for me. The sooner the better, if we are
+going, though. I don't want to be particularly late."
+
+We all rose, despatched the waiter for our overcoats and sallied out into
+the cool night air. After the heated atmosphere of the room in which we
+had been dining, the wintry breeze came as a sudden swift tonic. At the
+corner of the street, looking seaward, Cecil and I stopped simultaneously
+and bared our heads.
+
+"By George! how delicious a walk would be!" he exclaimed, fanning himself
+with his cap. "I say, Phil, old chap, suppose we bolt and do the seashore
+as far as Litton Bay?"
+
+"A splendid idea!" I exclaimed, taking him at his word and linking his
+arm in mine. "Let's do it!"
+
+He burst out laughing.
+
+"Why, Phil, you know we can't!" he said. "I was only joking. Why, what on
+earth would Fothergill think of us serving him such a trick as that?"
+
+"Oh, hang Fothergill!" I cried. "He only wants to win your money. I
+wouldn't play with the fellow if I were you, Cecil. Can't you see he's a
+cad?"
+
+He looked at me, confounded.
+
+"Why, hang it all," he said, "how can you refuse to play with a man after
+you've eaten his dinner? Besides, can't you see that it isn't he who
+wants to play at all? It was I who proposed it and even then he wasn't
+keen."
+
+"All beastly cunning!" I muttered angrily. But I could say no more, for
+de Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill had retraced their steps to look for us
+and Cecil had started off towards them.
+
+In a few moments we reached the "Rose and Crown" and walked straight into
+the little parlour at the back. Miss Milly was sitting there by herself
+in semi-darkness, with a very disconsolate face. She brightened up,
+however, at our entrance.
+
+"All by yourself, Milly?" exclaimed Cecil, letting go my arm and moving
+to her side. "In tears, too, I believe! No news, I suppose?"
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"None! I have almost lost hope," she added.
+
+Then she glanced questioningly at Mr. Fothergill, and Cecil introduced
+him in an informal sort of way and explained our visit.
+
+"We've come to drink up all your wine and have a quiet game at cards
+instead of staying all the evening at the 'Bull.' You can put us in the
+sitting-room out of the way, can't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered eagerly. "How good of you to come here! We've
+been dreadfully quiet the last few days--scarcely anyone in at all, and I
+have been so dull. Come this way, please. I'm so glad I had the fire
+lit."
+
+She led us into the little sitting-room, where we had gone to look for
+Mr. Hart's photograph on my first visit to the place. I pointed to the
+spot where it had been.
+
+"You haven't found the portrait yet?" I remarked.
+
+She shook her head and looked distressed.
+
+"Please don't talk about it," she said. "It seems as though it must have
+been spirited away and it makes me feel uncomfortable even to think about
+it."
+
+We seated ourselves around the table and Mr. Fothergill, producing two
+packs of cards from his pocket, began to deal. At the end of an hour
+Cecil had won nearly fifty pounds, I was as I had started, and de
+Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill were about equal losers.
+
+"I'm getting sick of this!" I declared. "Leave me out of this deal, will
+you?"
+
+They assented and I crossed the room to where Milly was sitting.
+Pretending to examine the fancy-work upon which she was engaged, I bent
+close over her.
+
+"Miss Milly, I want to ask you a question, without letting the others
+hear," I said softly. "Do you understand?"
+
+She nodded. Her large blue eyes, upturned to mine, were filled with
+innocent wonder.
+
+I glanced towards the table. As I had expected, de Cartienne was watching
+us, and I could see that he was straining every nerve to overhear our
+conversation.
+
+"I think I'm about tired of it, too!" he exclaimed, suddenly throwing
+down his cards and rising; but Cecil laid his hand on his shoulder and
+forced him down.
+
+"Nonsense, man! You must play out your hand, at any rate. Then you may
+leave off as soon as you like."
+
+de Cartienne resumed his seat with evident reluctance. I bent over Milly
+again.
+
+"Has anyone else one of those photographs of your father?" I asked. "Is
+there anyone from whom you could borrow one?"
+
+She shook her head and looked towards the empty frame.
+
+"That was the only one," she answered.
+
+"Where did he have them taken?"
+
+"At Lawrence's, just across the way."
+
+"And when?"
+
+"About nine months ago, I think it was. Why do you ask, Mr. Morton?" she
+added anxiously.
+
+"I will tell you another time," I answered, in a low tone.
+
+I glanced towards the table as I said this and was just in time to see de
+Cartienne bend over towards Cecil and whisper something in his ear. The
+latter looked round at us at once.
+
+"You two seem to have found something interesting to talk about," he
+remarked, glancing towards Milly as though requiring an explanation.
+
+"We haven't," she answered, with a sigh.
+
+"Mr. Morton was just asking me---- Oh, Mr. Morton, you're treading on my
+foot!"
+
+I withdrew my foot and tried the effect of a warning glance, but it was
+of no avail.
+
+"Mr. Morton was asking me," she continued, "whether I had not another of
+those photographs."
+
+"And have you--has anyone?" interrupted de Cartienne, fixing his piercing
+black eyes upon her.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No; but perhaps I can get some. They were taken at Lawrence's and I
+suppose he has the negative."
+
+I glanced quickly at de Cartienne. He seemed profoundly uninterested and
+was trying to build a house of the cards he had thrown down. Either he
+must be a perfect actor, or my vague suspicions were very ill-founded at
+that moment. I could not decide which.
+
+"Had enough cards, Cis?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Not I. We'll leave you out for a bit, though. Fothergill and I are going
+to play ecarté."
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders and threw himself on the sofa.
+
+"I pity you, then," he said drily. "You'll soon see the back of that
+little pile of winnings. Fothergill's a bit too good for you."
+
+"Well, we shall see," Cecil answered, laughing confidently. "I'm not a
+bad hand at ecarté myself."
+
+They began to play. Presently de Cartienne left the room and returned
+with two glasses in his hand.
+
+"Have a lemon-squash, Morton?" he asked carelessly. "There's only a drop
+of whisky in it."
+
+I accepted, for I was thirsty, and half emptied at a draught the tumbler
+which he handed me. As I put down the glass I caught a grim smile on de
+Cartienne's sallow face. But what it meant I could not tell, although it
+made me strangely uneasy.
+
+I watched the play for a few minutes and, to my surprise, Cecil was still
+winning. Then gradually a powerful, overmastering sleepiness crept over
+me. I tried to stave it off by walking about, by talking to Milly, by
+concentrating my thoughts upon the play. It was useless. I felt my eyes
+closing and the sounds and voices in the room grew dimmer and less
+distinct. For a while I remained in a semi-conscious state--half awake
+and half asleep--by sheer force of will. But in the end I was conquered.
+A mist hung before my eyes and all sound died away. I fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+                         A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
+
+
+When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and aching head which usually
+follow either a drugged sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up on
+the sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around in blank surprise. Daylight
+was streaming in through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the gas was
+still burning with a dull, sickly light.
+
+The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night orgie. Several packs of
+cards were lying strewn over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. There
+were half-a-dozen tumblers--one nearly full, another broken into
+pieces--and several empty soda-water bottles lay on the floor.
+
+But the most ghastly sight of all was Cecil's face. He sat on a chair
+drawn up to the table, his chin fallen upon his folded arms, dark rims
+under his eyes, and without a single vestige of colour in his ashen face.
+There was no one else in the room.
+
+I sprang to my feet and hurried to his side.
+
+"Cecil! Cecil!" I cried. "What's the matter, old chap? Wake up, for
+Heaven's sake, and tell me what has happened!"
+
+He pulled himself together and struggled to his feet. Then he looked
+round the room and finally into my anxious face, with an odd little
+laugh, strained and unnatural.
+
+"I've about done it this time," he said. "By George! Let's clear out of
+this before Milly comes down. I shouldn't like her to know that we've
+been here all night. Poor little girl! She'd never forgive herself for
+letting us play here at all."
+
+"Where are the others?" I asked.
+
+"Fothergill has gone back to his hotel and Leonard went with him. I said
+I'd wake you and we'd follow directly, but I think I must have been
+dozing."
+
+"We must go, and at once," I said, "or we shall never be back before the
+doctor gets down. Come, Cecil! Don't tell me anything yet."
+
+I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the room. We crept softly down
+the passage and out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him questions
+and he seemed in no hurry to disclose what had happened, so we hurried
+along in silence, Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze which
+blew in our teeth when we had left the town behind us and had all the
+effect of a strong, invigorating tonic.
+
+At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and, glancing at Cecil, I saw
+the colour creeping back into his cheeks with every breath he took of the
+salt air which came sweeping across the sandy, barren country between us
+and the sea.
+
+When at last we reached our destination and had cautiously made our way
+up to the back entrance, he hesitated. Opposite to us was the
+pine-plantation, which led down to the sea, and between the thickly
+growing black trunks a curious light shone and glistened. I had lived all
+my life in the country and knew well what it was, but Cecil turned round
+and watched it with amazement.
+
+"Look, Phil!" he whispered. "What's that light? It seems as though the
+plantation were on fire!"
+
+"It's the sunrise," I answered. "Shall we go and see it?"
+
+He nodded, and we stole across the lawn, through the wicket-gate and
+along the narrow, winding path, thickly strewn with dried leaves and
+fir-cones, down towards the shore. We were just in time to see the final
+effect. A rim of the sun had already crept into sight, casting brilliant,
+scintillating reflections upon the dancing waves, and the eastern sky was
+tinged from the arc of the heavens to the horizon with streaks of
+brilliantly-hued, fantastically-shaped cloudlets, strewn upon a
+background of the lightest transparent blue.
+
+Far off the sails of a few fishing-smacks glittered like gossamer wings
+upon a fairy ocean; and farther away still, where the banks of orange and
+azure clouds seemed to sink into a blazing sea of polished glass, the
+white funnel of a passing steamer shone like a pillar of fire.
+
+It was a sight so new to Cecil that he stood spellbound, with a look of
+wondering awe upon his pale face. And it was not until we had gazed to
+the full and were retracing our steps in silence through the plantation
+that I cared to speak of the events of the night.
+
+"Philip," he said solemnly, when I mentioned the subject, "there's no one
+to blame for this night's work but myself. To do Leonard and that fellow
+Fothergill justice, they both continually urged me to leave off playing,
+but I wouldn't. It seemed as though the luck must change at every deal
+and so I went on, and on, and on. What a fool I was!"
+
+"And the result?" I asked anxiously.
+
+"I owe Fothergill between six and seven hundred pounds and I haven't as
+many shillings."
+
+I stopped short and looked at him in horror.
+
+"Seven hundred pounds! Why, Cis, how on earth came you to play up to that
+figure and with a man you know so little of?"
+
+"Oh, the man's all right--at least, he's no sharper, if you mean that!"
+Cecil answered doggedly. "It was my own fault altogether. He's a better
+player than I am, and, of course, won."
+
+"But he ought not to have gone on," I protested. "I don't know much about
+such matters, but I feel sure that a gentleman wouldn't sit down and win
+seven hundred pounds from a boy of your age. You're not eighteen yet, you
+know, Cis."
+
+"I don't quite see what age has got to do with it," he answered gloomily.
+"As regards Fothergill, I don't feel particularly sweet on him just now,
+as you may imagine; but it wasn't his fault at all. I made him go on,
+and, you know, the winner is a great deal in the hands of the loser in a
+case of that sort. He kept on wanting to go and he went at last. I should
+have gone on playing till now, I think, if he hadn't."
+
+"When does he expect you to settle up?" I asked.
+
+"I've got to see him this afternoon. I say, you'll come down with me, old
+chap, won't you?" he pleaded. "I shall have to ask for a little time, of
+course."
+
+"Yes, I'll go with you," I promised. "How shall you try to raise the
+money?"
+
+"I haven't the faintest idea," he acknowledged gloomily. "I've overdrawn
+my allowance already several hundreds. The mater is as poor as a church
+mouse and I simply daren't ask my Uncle Ravenor, though he's as rich as
+Croesus. He might disinherit me."
+
+We reached the house and stole softly up the back stairs to our rooms.
+Cecil threw himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed. But I was in no
+humour for sleep, and after a cold bath I dressed and got downstairs in
+time for breakfast. To my surprise, de Cartienne was in the morning-room,
+carefully dressed as usual and with no sign in his appearance or manner
+of having been out all night. He was chatting lightly with Dr. Randall
+about some trivial matter connected with the meeting which the latter had
+attended the previous evening.
+
+"Cecil is late again," remarked the doctor, with a frown, as we began
+breakfast. "James, go to Lord Silchester's room and ask him how long he
+will be."
+
+James retired and reappeared in a few minutes with a grave face.
+
+"Lord Silchester desires me to beg you to excuse him this morning," was
+the message which he brought back. "He has a very bad headache and has
+had no sleep."
+
+Dr. Randall, who was one of the kindest-hearted men breathing, looked
+compassionate.
+
+"Dear me!" he said. "I'm very sorry to hear that! Certainly we will
+excuse him. Will he have anything sent up?"
+
+"A cup of tea, sir, only. I have ordered it in the kitchen."
+
+"Poor fellow! It's strange how he suffers from these attacks! I'm afraid
+he can't be very strong," remarked the doctor absently, as he buttered
+himself a piece of toast.
+
+de Cartienne and I exchanged glances, but we said nothing.
+
+Directly after breakfast the doctor took us into the study and we began
+the morning's labours. It happened that, in working out a series of
+algebraic questions, de Cartienne and I used a great deal of paper, and
+when the doctor looked for a piece to explain the working of a rather
+stiff quadratic, the rack was empty.
+
+"Have either of you a piece of wastepaper in your pockets?" he asked.
+"The back of an envelope, or anything will do. I see it is lunch-time, so
+it is scarcely worth while sending for any."
+
+I felt in all my pockets, but they were empty. de Cartienne drew an
+envelope from his pocket and handed it to the doctor. The moment he had
+parted with it, however, I saw him give a sudden start and he seemed as
+though about to make an effort to regain possession of it. But he was too
+late, for the doctor was already fast covering it with figures.
+
+de Cartienne quitted his seat and stood looking over his shoulder,
+probably hoping that I should do the same. But I remained where I was,
+taking care to manifest my interest in the problem by asking frequent
+questions. The moment the doctor had finished his rapid figuring and
+solved the equation, I stretched out my hand for it eagerly.
+
+"May I see it, sir?" I begged. "I fancy you've made a mistake in the
+values."
+
+He handed it across the table at once, with a quiet smile.
+
+"I think not, Morton," he said. "Examine it for yourself."
+
+de Cartienne moved round to my side, with nervously twitching lips and an
+ugly light in his eyes.
+
+"One moment, Morton," he said. "I won't keep it longer."
+
+I laid a hand upon it, and pushed him back with the other.
+
+"My turn first, please. Isn't that so, Dr. Randall?"
+
+He nodded genially, not noticing the suppressed excitement in de
+Cartienne's manner.
+
+"Certainly. I'm glad to find you both so interested in it. Let me know
+about this mistake at lunch-time, Morton," he added, smiling. "I'm going
+for a stroll round the garden now, and I should advise you to do the
+same. We've had a close morning's work."
+
+He rose and left the room. de Cartienne watched the door close and then
+turned to me.
+
+"Morton," he said quickly, "I want that envelope. There are some
+memoranda on the reverse side which concern my private affairs. I need
+not say more, I suppose."
+
+"Keep your hands to yourself, de Cartienne!" I answered, shaking him off.
+"I shall not give you the envelope till I have examined it."
+
+"You cad!" he hissed out, his voice shaking with fury. "How dare you
+attempt to pry into my private affairs? Give me the envelope, or
+I'll----"
+
+"You'll what?" I answered, standing up, putting the envelope in my pocket
+and facing him. "Look here, de Cartienne, I'm not going to attempt to
+justify my conduct to you. On the face of it, it may seem to be taking a
+mean advantage, but I don't care a fig about that. I've made up my mind
+what to do, and all the blustering in the world won't make me alter it. I
+am going to look at the reverse side of this envelope. You----"
+
+I ceased and with good reason, for, with a sudden, panther-like spring,
+he had thrown himself upon me, and his slender white fingers were
+grasping at my throat. It was a brief struggle, but a desperate one, for
+he clung to me with a strength which seemed altogether out of proportion
+to his slim body and long, thin arms.
+
+I was in no mood for trifling, however, and, suddenly putting forth all
+my strength, I seized him by the middle, and sent him backwards, with a
+crash of fallen furniture, into a corner of the room. Before he could
+recover himself, I drew out the envelope from my pocket and looked at it.
+
+There was nothing on the reverse side but the address and the postmark.
+They were quite sufficient for me, however. The postmark was Mellborough
+and the handwriting was the peculiar, cramped handwriting of Mr. Marx.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+                              FORESTALLED.
+
+
+For a full minute neither of us moved. Then de Cartienne rose slowly to
+his feet and walked to the door.
+
+"Here, take this!" I said, holding out the envelope towards him. "The
+private memoranda upon it may be useful to you."
+
+He snatched it from my fingers and tore it into atoms. Then he walked
+quietly away, with an evil look upon his face.
+
+At luncheon Cecil appeared, white as a ghost, and looking anxious and
+disturbed, as well he might. Dr. Randall was quite uneasy at his
+appearance, and acquiesced at once when I asked for permission to take
+him for a drive during the afternoon. de Cartienne sat silent throughout
+the meal, except for a few sympathising sentences to Cecil, and left the
+room at the first opportunity.
+
+At three o'clock my dog cart was brought round and Cecil and I drove
+away. We scarcely spoke until we were in the streets of Drayton, and
+then, rousing myself, I bade him pluck his spirits up, and assured him
+vaguely that I would see him through it somehow. He thanked me, but
+seemed very despondent.
+
+We went to the "Bull," and inquired for Mr. Fothergill. He was in the
+coffee-room, we were told, and there we found him lunching.
+
+"So good of you fellows to come and look me up!" he exclaimed, welcoming
+us cordially. "Waiter, a bottle of Pommery. Don't shake your head now,
+Lord Silchester. It'll do you good. I can see you're a bit seedy this
+morning."
+
+Cecil smiled feebly.
+
+"I'm not quite up to the mark," he admitted, "Just a bit of a
+headache--that's all. I say, Mr. Fothergill," he went on, plunging at
+once _in medias res_, "I'm awfully sorry, but I shan't be able to settle
+up with you to-day."
+
+"Settle up with me!" repeated Mr. Fothergill, putting down his glass
+untasted, and looking surprised. "I don't understand you. Settle what
+up?"
+
+"Why, the money I lost last night," Cecil explained.
+
+Mr. Fothergill leaned back in his chair and looked into Cecil's white,
+anxious face with an astonishment which, if simulated, was certainly
+admirably done. Then he broke into a little laugh.
+
+"My dear Lord Silchester," he said energetically, "you can't for one
+moment suppose that I expected anything of the sort. Why, I scarcely took
+our play seriously at all, and I should very much prefer that we said no
+more about it. Pray don't be offended," he added, hastily, for the
+sensitive colour had flushed into Cecil's cheeks. "I'll tell you how
+we'll arrange it. You shall give me your I O U's and pay them just as it
+is convenient. Any time within the next five or six years will do. But as
+to taking a sum like that from a b--a man who is not of age--why, it's
+absurd! I feel rather ashamed of myself for having been so fortunate."
+
+A look of intense relief had stolen into Cecil's face, but the reaction
+was a little too sudden. He left us abruptly and stood looking out of the
+window for a minute or two. Then he returned, smiling, and held out his
+hand to Mr. Fothergill.
+
+"Mr. Fothergill, you're a brick!" he declared emphatically.
+
+"Not another word, please!" Mr. Fothergill answered, smiling. "Now, look
+here, Lord Silchester," he added. "Drink this glass of wine."
+
+Cecil obeyed him promptly.
+
+"And now you'll be so good as to have some luncheon with me," Mr.
+Fothergill continued. "I don't care what you say. I don't believe you've
+eaten anything to-day. Waiter, bring me those other cutlets I ordered and
+the game-pie, and--yes, I think we might venture on another bottle of
+wine."
+
+"Mr. Morton, you must join us. Clever animal of yours--that one outside,"
+he rattled on lightly; "but I'd have her taken out for an hour, if I were
+you. It's too cold for her to be standing about. Shall I ring the
+ostler's bell and tell him? And then, if you will, you might drive me
+down to the station, when you're ready to go. My train leaves a little
+before five."
+
+Whatever my former opinion of Mr. Fothergill had been, I felt bound to
+change it now. He was showing tact, good-nature, and a decidedly
+gentlemanly spirit. I had, in truth, eaten very little lunch at Borden
+Tower and Cecil none at all; and we proceeded to make good the omission.
+
+When, an hour or two later, we left Mr. Fothergill at the station, we
+were both of one mind concerning him, and we had both promised to accept
+his cordial invitation to run up to town and see him before long.
+
+On our way home Cecil stopped at the "Rose and Crown," and went in to
+make his peace with Milly. I promised to call for him and went on to the
+photographer's up the street. Mr. Lawrence appeared at once from a
+back-room, which, I presume, was the studio, wiping his hands upon a not
+particularly clean-looking towel.
+
+I paid him in advance for a dozen photographs, promising to come in and
+have them taken next time I was in the town. Then I explained what was
+really the purport of my visit: Had he preserved the negative of the
+photograph which he had taken of Mr. Hart?
+
+Certainly he had, he assured me. I told him about the date and his head
+and shoulders disappeared into a cupboard. In a few minutes he withdrew
+them and called out sharply for his assistant.
+
+"Fenton," he exclaimed angrily, "you've been at this cupboard!"
+
+Fenton, who was a tall, ungainly lad of most unprepossessing appearance,
+shook his head.
+
+"I haven't been near it, sir!" he declared.
+
+Mr. Lawrence looked incredulous.
+
+"There is a negative missing!" he said sharply; "No one else could have
+meddled with it!"
+
+"I don't know anything about it," the boy answered doggedly. "Perhaps
+it's upstairs."
+
+Mr. Lawrence abandoned his search.
+
+"If you'll excuse me a moment, sir," he said, "I'll have a look among the
+old ones."
+
+I nodded and he closed the door and disappeared. Fenton would have gone,
+too, but I stopped him.
+
+"Look here!" I said quickly; "see this?"
+
+I held out a five-pound note.
+
+He opened his eyes wide and looked at it longingly.
+
+"Well, it's yours if you'll tell me what you've done with the negative of
+Mr. Hart's photograph. Quick!"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Should you split to the governor?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, I sold it for a sovereign to a young gentleman what inquired
+for it a few minutes ago. A thin, dark chap he is. I don't know his name,
+but I've seen him driving with you."
+
+I threw him the note and left the place. I had now no doubt about the
+matter at all. de Cartienne had stolen the photograph of Mr. Hart from
+the "Rose and Crown," and had bought the negative. Why?
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+                           A GLEAM OF LIGHT.
+
+
+After leaving the photographer's shop, I walked slowly across the little
+market-place and down the narrow street towards the "Rose and Crown." My
+recent discovery had given me a good deal to think about, or rather, had
+afforded me matter for a variety of wild conjectures, but I could follow
+none of them to a very satisfactory conclusion. I was like a man groping
+in the dark. I had stumbled upon several very extraordinary and
+inexplicable facts; but what connection, if any, they had with one
+another, or how to link them together, I could not tell.
+
+I have always been somewhat absent-minded and, with my brain in such a
+whirl, it was not a very remarkable thing that I took a wrong turning.
+The moment I had discovered it I stopped short and looked round. I was in
+a little street that led past the back entrance of the "Rose and Crown."
+It was scarcely a public thoroughfare.
+
+I had already turned on my heel to retrace my steps, when I saw two
+figures standing talking at the back door of the inn. One I knew at a
+glance to be Milly Hart. Her companion was standing with his back to me,
+a muffler round his neck and his cap slouched over his eyes. In the gloom
+of the fast-falling twilight I did not at first recognise him; but when
+he turned round with a start at the sound of my approaching footsteps and
+withdrew his arm with a sudden movement from around his companion's
+waist, something in the motion and figure seemed familiar to me.
+
+My approach seemed to discompose them not a little. Milly stepped back at
+once into the doorway and disappeared; her companion, without waiting to
+make any adieu, turned round and walked swiftly away. As he crossed the
+street to make use of the only exit from it--a narrow passage leading
+through a court--I had a better view of him. He kept his back to me as
+much as possible and seemed to be using every endeavour to escape
+recognition. But although I could not be quite certain, I was pretty sure
+that it was Leonard de Cartienne--de Cartienne, who never missed an
+opportunity of sneering at Milly's innocent blue eyes and baby face.
+
+I turned back, and hurried round to the front entrance of the "Rose and
+Crown." In the parlour I found Cecil and Milly sitting very close
+together upon a sofa.
+
+"Hallo, old chap, you haven't been long!" remarked Cecil, rising
+reluctantly.
+
+"I should have been here before," I answered, looking steadily at Milly,
+"but I took a wrong turning and got round the back of this place somehow.
+Saw you, didn't I, Miss Milly?" I remarked.
+
+She raised her eyebrows and looked at me wonderingly out of her placid
+blue eyes.
+
+"Me? Oh, no! I have only just come downstairs, have I not, Cecil? It must
+have been one of the maids."
+
+Milly and I exchanged a steady gaze, her eyes meeting mine without
+drooping and her manner betraying only a mild surprise. It was a
+revelation to me, a lesson which I did not easily forget.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure," I said, turning away. "It was rather
+dark and no doubt I was mistaken. Strange, too; I thought it was de
+Cartienne with whom you were talking."
+
+Cecil laughed carelessly.
+
+"My dear fellow, you must have been dreaming," he said; "de Cartienne has
+not been here at all."
+
+"Ready, Cecil?" I asked, abandoning the subject. "I think we've kept Bess
+waiting about long enough."
+
+"I'll come," he replied, drawing on his gloves. "I've scarcely had a
+moment with you, Milly, though, have I? No news?"
+
+She shook her head sadly and the big tears stood in her eyes. There was
+no mistaking her earnestness now.
+
+"None about my father. My uncle and aunt are coming to stay here. I
+expect them tonight."
+
+"Horrid nuisance that is!" remarked Cecil, _sotto voce_. "Never mind, you
+won't be so lonely, little woman, will you? And you won't have so much to
+look after. I must take you for a drive as soon as we get a fine, clear
+day; that'll bring some colour into your cheeks. Good-bye!"
+
+She came to the door and watched us drive off. Cecil took the reins and I
+climbed to his side, and, folding my arms, sat for a while in gloomy
+silence. Then suddenly a gleam of light, or what I hoped might prove so,
+broke in upon me and I laid my hand upon Cecil's arm.
+
+"Pull up, old chap--quick!" I exclaimed.
+
+He did so, and looked at me wonderingly.
+
+"Turn round and drive back again as fast as you can," I said, my voice
+trembling a little with excitement; "I want to ask Milly Hart a
+question."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+                        DR. SCHOFIELD'S OPINION.
+
+
+In ten minutes we were in the streets of Little Drayton again, and Cecil
+had brought the dog cart to a standstill outside the "Rose and Crown." He
+would have gone in with me, but I begged him not to. I jumped down and
+walked straight into the little parlour. Milly was sitting there alone,
+gazing absently into the fire. She looked up in surprise at my sudden
+entrance, and half rose.
+
+"Milly, I want to ask you a question," I said, going up to her side.
+"It's about your father's disappearance."
+
+"Yes!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What is it? Oh, do tell me quickly!"
+
+"It's only an idea. Did Mr. Hart ever suffer from any brain disorder at
+any time? That's all I want to know. Has his mind always been quite
+strong?"
+
+She did not answer for a moment and my heart beat fast. Looking at her
+closely, I could see that the colour had flushed into her cheeks and
+there was a troubled light in her eyes.
+
+"He has had one or two severe illnesses," she admitted slowly; "brain
+fever once; and I'm afraid he used to drink too much now and then. The
+doctor told him that he must be very careful not to excite himself."
+
+"Who was the doctor and where does he live?" I asked quickly.
+
+"Dr. Schofield. He lives on the Lincoln Road, about a mile away. Why have
+you asked me this?" she added anxiously.
+
+I evaded a direct reply.
+
+"Never mind now," I said. "If anything comes of it, I will let you know."
+
+She tried to detain me with further questions, but I hurried away and she
+did not follow me out of the door.
+
+"Cis," I said, as I scrambled up to his side, "I want you to go home by
+the Lincoln Road and call at Dr. Schofield's. It isn't far out of the
+way."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"All right. You haven't found out anything about old Hart, have you? What
+was the question you went back to ask Milly?"
+
+"Only about her father's health. No; I haven't found out anything. It's
+only an idea of mine I want to clear up."
+
+Cecil looked as though he thought I might have told him what the idea
+was, but he said nothing. In a few minutes he pulled up outside a neat,
+red-brick house, which, as a shining brass plate indicated, was Dr.
+Schofield's abode.
+
+The doctor was in and disengaged. He came at once into the waiting-room,
+where I had been shown--a respectable family practitioner, with
+intelligent face and courteous manner.
+
+I explained my position as an acquaintance of Miss Hart's, interested in
+the mysterious disappearance of her father. It had occurred to me to make
+inquiries as to the state of his health, or, rather, his constitution, I
+added. Perhaps his prolonged absence might be accounted for by sudden and
+dangerous illness. Could Dr. Schofield give me any information?
+
+His manner was encouraging. He bade me take a seat and went into the
+matter gravely.
+
+"To tell you the truth," he said, "I am rather surprised that I have not
+been appealed to before. In an ordinary case I should feel bound to
+maintain a strict secrecy with regard to the ailments of my patients, but
+this is different. As you have asked me this question, I feel bound to
+tell you what I would not otherwise divulge. Mr. Hart was my patient on
+two several occasions during the last two years for delirium tremens, and
+once within my recollection he had a distinct touch of brain fever."
+
+"His mind would not be very strong, then?" I remarked.
+
+Dr. Schofield hesitated.
+
+"He had a wonderful constitution," he said slowly--"a constitution of
+iron. In ordinary circumstances I cannot bring myself to think that he
+could suddenly and completely have lost his reason. But supposing he had
+received some severe shock, such as a railway accident, or something of
+that sort, why, then it would be possible, even probable, he might become
+a raving lunatic in a moment."
+
+"And would his madness be incurable?"
+
+"If properly treated, with a knowledge of his past ailment--no," answered
+Dr. Schofield; "but if he were treated just like an ordinary madman in a
+pauper lunatic asylum, he would probably never recover. He would become
+worse and worse and finally be incurable. I see two objections to
+accepting any theory of this sort as accounting for his disappearance,"
+the doctor continued, after a short pause. "In the first place the shock
+would have to be violent and unexpected, and this seems improbable; in
+the next place, he would surely have had some letter or something about
+him which would have led to his identification!"
+
+"If the shock were the result of foul play, these would be destroyed," I
+suggested.
+
+"Undoubtedly; but whence the foul play? Hart is known to have had only a
+few pounds with him when he left."
+
+"Perhaps he had something in his keeping more valuable than money," I
+remarked.
+
+"What?"
+
+"A secret."
+
+"Have you any grounds for such a belief?" the doctor asked curiously.
+
+I hesitated. In my own mind I believed that I had; but for the present,
+at any rate, this was best kept to myself. I answered quite truthfully,
+however.
+
+"I have made a few inquiries here and there," I said, "and I have heard
+it hinted that he had some secret means of replenishing his purse. He has
+been known more than once to leave here with only a few sovereigns in his
+pocket and to come back with his sovereigns turned into banknotes."
+
+"I remember hearing some such tale," the doctor remarked. "I'm afraid it
+is all rather vague, though."
+
+"I'm very much obliged to you, Dr. Schofield," I assured him, rising to
+take my leave.
+
+He followed me to the door and then returned to his interrupted dinner. I
+mounted into the dog cart and we were soon bowling through the darkness
+towards Borden Tower.
+
+"Get anything out of the old chap?" Cecil asked.
+
+"Not much. I'm just a little wiser than I was before, that's all. Beastly
+sorry to keep you waiting so long!"
+
+"Oh, that's all right! But I say, Phil," he added, "what is this idea of
+yours? You can tell me, can't you?"
+
+"If it comes to anything, I will," I assured him. "But at present it is
+altogether too vague and you would only laugh at it. Don't ask me
+anything more about it yet, there's a good fellow."
+
+"You're very close, all of a sudden," he grumbled. "Why can't you tell
+me?"
+
+"Because I'm afraid of your letting it out to someone whom I don't want
+to know anything about it," I answered.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Ah, well, perhaps you're right!" he said. "I couldn't keep anything back
+from Milly."
+
+I echoed his laugh, but held my peace. It was not Milly alone from whom I
+wished my present idea to be kept a secret. In fact, I had not thought of
+Milly at all. I was only anxious that de Cartienne should remain
+altogether in the dark as to my clue; and for a remarkably good reason.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+                             AN INVITATION.
+
+
+We drove straight into the courtyard, having no groom with us and entered
+the house from the back. As we passed the little room on the ground floor
+given up for our sole use as a repository for cricket-nets,
+fishing-tackle, guns, spare harness, and such like appliances, I opened
+the door, intending to hang my whip up. To my surprise de Cartienne was
+there in an old coat, with his sleeves turned up, cleaning a gun. He
+looked up and greeted us as we entered.
+
+"What a time you men have been! What have you been up to in Little
+Drayton?"
+
+"Oh, we had lunch with your friend Fothergill and shacked about," Cecil
+answered. "Tell you what, Len, he's a very decent fellow."
+
+de Cartienne was examining the lock of his gun with great attention, and
+in the dusk I could not catch his expression.
+
+"Oh, Fothergill's all right!" he answered. "You didn't find him very
+hungry for his winnings, did you?"
+
+"I should think not," Cecil replied enthusiastically. "Why, I believe he
+was actually annoyed with himself for having won at all. I've given him
+my I O U's."
+
+"He'll most likely tear them up," de Cartienne remarked. "He's beastly
+rich and he can't want the money."
+
+"Where did you drop across him, Len?" asked Cecil, seating himself upon a
+chest and lighting a cigarette.
+
+"He's a friend of my governor's. I've known him ever since I was a kid,"
+de Cartienne answered slowly. "There, I think that'll do!" critically
+looking at the gleaming muzzle which he held in his hand.
+
+"Why this sudden fit of industry?" inquired Cecil, yawning. "Going to do
+any shooting?"
+
+de Cartienne nodded and began deliberately pulling the gun to pieces.
+
+"Yes; I've had a long day indoors to-day and I mean to make up for it by
+potting some wild duck to-morrow. Hilliers told me that he'd heard of
+some very fair sport round by Rushey Ponds last week. You'd better come
+with me."
+
+"Thanks, I'll see," Cecil answered. "I'm not very keen on wild duck
+potting."
+
+"Haven't you been out all day, then, de Cartienne?" I asked--"not even to
+Drayton?"
+
+"Not outside the house," he answered. "Do I look like it?"
+
+He pointed to his slippered feet, his old clothes, and held up his hands,
+black with oil and grease, I took in the details of his appearance,
+feeling a little bewildered. It seemed barely possible that he could have
+been in Little Drayton an hour ago.
+
+The dressing-bell rang out and we hurried off to our rooms, for Dr.
+Randall, easy-going enough in some things, was strictness itself with
+regard to our punctuality at dinner-time. But no sooner had I seen de
+Cartienne safely in his room than I softly made my way downstairs again
+and crossed the yard to the stables.
+
+It was as I had expected. The stall in which de Cartienne kept his mare
+was carefully closed, but through the chinks I could see that a lamp was
+burning inside.
+
+I tried the door softly, but it was locked. Then I knocked. There was no
+answer. Turning away, I entered the next stall and, mounting a
+step-ladder, looked over the partition.
+
+I saw very much what I had expected to see--de Cartienne's thoroughbred
+mare splashed all over with mud and still trembling with nervous fatigue,
+and by her side Dick, the stable-boy, holding a wet sponge in his hand
+and looking up at me with a scared, disconsolate expression.
+
+"Oh, it be you, be it, Muster Morton?" he exclaimed rather sullenly.
+
+I looked down at Diana.
+
+"How came she in that exhausted condition?" I asked. "And why have you
+locked the door?"
+
+Dick hesitated, and I tossed him a half-crown.
+
+"The truth now, Dick," I said. "And I won't let Mr. de Cartienne know
+that I've seen her."
+
+He brightened up at once and pocketed the half-crown.
+
+"That's kind o' yer, sir!" he exclaimed, evidently much relieved. "All I
+know, sir, is that Muster de Cartienne he come in riding like mad along
+the Drayton Road 'bout 'arf an hour ago, and he says to me, 'Dick, take
+Diana, lock her up in the stable and don't let no one know as she's been
+out. Just attend to her yourself and rub her down carefully, for I've
+been obliged to ride fast.' And with that he guv me summut and hoff he
+went into the 'ouse."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," I said, getting down from the ladder, "that's all I
+wanted to know." And I crossed the yard to the house again and hurried
+upstairs to change my things.
+
+We had two deliveries of letters at Borden Tower, and just as we were
+leaving the dinner-table that evening the late post arrived. There was a
+letter for me, a somewhat unusual occurrence, and a single glance at the
+arms and the bold, characteristic handwriting set me longing to open it,
+for it was from Mr. Ravenor. As soon as the cloth was cleared I did so.
+
+  "My dear Philip," it commenced, "I am thinking of travelling for
+  several years, perhaps for longer, and should like to see you before I
+  go. Come and stay here for a few days. I am writing Dr. Randall and
+  also Cecil, who will accompany you. You will leave Borden Tower
+  to-morrow and I will send to Mellborough to meet the 5.18. Bring some
+  clothes, as there will be some people stopping here.--Yours,
+
+                                                  "Bernard Ravenor."
+
+I looked up from the letter with a great sense of relief and met Cecil's
+delighted gaze.
+
+"Hurrah, old chap!" he exclaimed, only half under his breath. "Won't we
+have a rare old time?"
+
+"Cave!" I whispered, for the doctor was looking our way.
+
+"More vacation," he remarked, in a grumbling tone, which was made up for,
+however, by a good-natured smile. "Upon my word, I don't know how Mr.
+Ravenor imagines you're ever going to learn anything! However, I suppose
+you must go."
+
+de Cartienne looked up inquiringly.
+
+"We're going to stay at Ravenor Castle for a week," Cecil explained.
+"We're off to-morrow."
+
+I leaned forward and watched de Cartienne's face intently. There was an
+expression in it which I could not analyse. It might have been pleasure,
+or apprehension, or indifference. Though I watched him narrowly, I could
+not make up my mind whether he was more dismayed or gratified at the
+prospect of our visit.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+                            A METAMORPHOSIS.
+
+
+It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis had taken place
+within the walls of Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it we
+had the first intimation of its altered aspect. Instead of the one or two
+solitary lights shining above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of
+illumination, and when we drew up at the great front door the change was
+still mere apparent. Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving
+about the hall. From open doors there came the sound of laughing voices,
+and even Mr. Ravenor's manner, as he came out to meet us, seemed altered.
+
+"Come in and have some tea here," he said, leading the way to one of the
+smaller rooms. "Your mother is here, Cecil."
+
+We followed him into Lady Silchester's favourite apartment. Several
+ladies and one or two men were lounging on divans and in easy chairs
+around a brightly-blazing fire. Lady Silchester, who was presiding at a
+green-and-gold Sèvres tea-service, welcomed us both with a languid smile.
+
+"My dear Cis, how you have grown!" she said, leaning back in her chair
+and leisurely sipping her tea. "I declare I had no idea that I had a son
+your height, sir! Had you, Lord Penraven?"
+
+Lord Penraven, who was lounging by her side with his elbow upon the
+mantelpiece, stroked a long, fair moustache vigorously and answered with
+emphasis:
+
+"'Pon my word, I hadn't the slightest idea. Seems almost impossible!"
+
+"Let me give you boys some tea!" Lady Silchester said, in her sweetest
+tone.
+
+"None for me, thanks, mother," replied Cecil. "Why, Ag--Miss Hamilton, is
+that really you over in the corner?" he exclaimed, rising and crossing
+the room. "How awfully jolly!"
+
+Lady Silchester shrugged her shoulders and turned to me.
+
+"Mr. Morton?"
+
+I took the cup which she had filled and the conversation which our
+entrance had interrupted flowed on again. Presently Mr. Ravenor, who had
+been standing on the hearthrug talking to a stately, grey-haired lady who
+occupied the seat of honour--a black oak arm-chair drawn up to the
+fire,--moved over to my side and dropped into a vacant seat between Lady
+Silchester and myself.
+
+"Well, Philip," he said softly, "you seem lost in thought. Are you
+wondering whether a magician's wand has touched Ravenor Castle?"
+
+"It all seems very different," I answered.
+
+"Of course. Nothing like change, you know. It is only by comparison that
+we can appreciate. Stagnation sharpens one's appetite for gaiety, and one
+must go through a course of overwork before one can taste the full
+sweetness of an idle country life."
+
+Then Mr. Ravenor was silent for a minute, leaning back in his chair and
+looking steadily into the fire, and by the dancing, fitful light of the
+flames I could see that the old weariness and deep indefinable sadness
+had stolen into his pale face and dark eyes. It was only a passing
+change. The sound of the laughing voices around seemed suddenly to
+galvanise him into consciousness of the _rôle_ which he was playing and
+the expression faded away. Someone asked him a question and he answered
+it with a light jest. Once more he was the courteous, smiling host, whose
+sole thought appeared to be the entertainment of his guests. But I knew
+that there was a background.
+
+The dressing-bell rang and the gossiping assembly broke up. Mr. Ravenor,
+standing with the opened door in his hand, exchanged little happy
+speeches with most of the ladies as they swept out. When they were all
+gone he turned to Cecil and me and looked at us critically, with a faint
+smile upon his lips.
+
+"Well, are you ready for your matric., Cecil?" he asked.
+
+Cecil made a wry face.
+
+"Shall be soon, uncle!" he declared hopefully, "I'm getting on now first
+rate. Morton here makes me work like a Trojan."
+
+"That's right! And you, Philip? I hope my lazy nephew doesn't keep you
+back."
+
+"Oh, Morton's all right for his matric. whenever he likes to go in for
+it!" broke in Cecil.
+
+Mr. Ravenor nodded.
+
+"Good! You'd better go and dress now, both of you; Richards is waiting to
+show you your rooms."
+
+We passed up the great oak staircase, and on the first corridor we came
+face to face with a slim little figure in a white frock, walking demurely
+by the side of her maid, with her ruddy, golden hair tumbled about her
+oval face and an expectant light in her dancing blue eyes.
+
+Directly she saw us she flew into Cecil's arms.
+
+"Oh, Cis, Cis, Cis, how delightful! How glad I am that you have come!
+They only just told me! And how do you do, Mr. Morton?"
+
+She held out a very diminutive palm and looked up at me with a beaming
+smile.
+
+"I'm quite well, thank you, Lady Beatrice," I answered, looking down with
+keen pleasure into her sweet, childish face, and repressing a strong
+desire to take her up in my arms, as Cecil had done, and give her a kiss.
+
+"You remember me, then?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered; "I remember you quite well! Your name is Philip,
+isn't it? You told me that I might call you by it."
+
+"Well, we must go now, dear," Cecil said, stroking her hair. "We've got
+to dress for dinner, you know."
+
+"Oh!" The exclamation was drawn out and the little face fell. Suddenly it
+brightened.
+
+"Cecil, what do you think? I've got a pony, a real pony of my own. Will
+you come for a ride with me to-morrow? Please, please, do!"
+
+"All right!" he promised carelessly.
+
+She clapped her hands and looked up at me.
+
+"Will you come too, Philip?" she asked.
+
+"I should like to very much indeed," I answered unhesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, that's delightful!" she exclaimed gleefully. "We will have such a
+nice ride! You shall see Queenie canter; she does go so fast! Good-bye
+now!"
+
+She tripped away by the side of her maid, turning round more than once to
+wave her hand to us. Then we hurried along to our rooms, which were at
+the end of the wide, marble-pillared corridor and opened one into the
+other. Our portmanteaux had been placed in readiness, so dressing was not
+a tedious business. I had finished first and lounged in an easy chair,
+watching Cecil struggle with a refractory white tie.
+
+"How pretty your sister is, Cis!" I remarked.
+
+"Think so? She's rather an odd little thing," declared her brother,
+absently surveying himself at last with satisfaction in the long
+pier-glass. "Didn't know you'd ever seen her before. I say"--with sudden
+emphasis--"isn't Aggie Hamilton a jolly good-looking girl?"
+
+"I've scarcely seen her yet," I reminded him. "Rather a chatterbox, isn't
+she?"
+
+"Chatterbox? Not she!" Cecil protested indignantly. "Why----"
+
+The rumble of a gong reached us from below. Cecil stopped short in his
+speech and hurried me out of the room.
+
+"Come along, sharp!" he exclaimed. "That means dinner in ten minutes, and
+I promised to get down into the drawing-room first and introduce you to
+Aggie. Come on!"
+
+We descended into the hall and a tall footman threw open the door of the
+long suite of drawing and ante-rooms in which the guests at the Castle
+were rapidly assembling. To me, who had seen nothing of the sort before,
+it was a brilliant sight. Four rooms, all of stately dimensions and all
+draped with amber satin of the same shade, were thrown into one by the
+upraising of heavy, clinging curtains, and each one seemed filled with
+groups of charmingly-dressed women and little knots of men. A low,
+incessant buzz of conversation floated about in the air, which was laden
+with the scent of exotics and dainty perfumes. The light was brilliant,
+but soft, for the marble figures around the walls held out silver lamps
+covered with gauzy rose-coloured shades.
+
+We passed through two of the rooms before we found the young lady of whom
+Cecil was in search. Then we came upon her suddenly, sitting quite alone
+and idly turning over the pages of a book of engravings. Cecil jogged me
+excitedly with his elbow in a manner which elsewhere would have brought
+down anathemas and possibly retribution upon his head. As it was,
+however, I had to bear the pain like a Spartan.
+
+"I say, isn't she stunning?" he whispered.
+
+I answered in the affirmative, carefully removing myself from the range
+of his elbow. Then we approached her, and she closed the book of
+engravings with a comical air of relief and made room for us beside her.
+
+She was even prettier than I had expected, with dark hair and eyes,
+dazzling complexion, a perfect figure of the _petite_ order, and
+faultless teeth, which she was by no means averse from showing. She wore
+a black lace gown, with a good deal of scarlet about it and a deep red
+rose in her bosom. Altogether, I was scarcely surprised at Cecil's
+captivation.
+
+If not actually a chatterbox, she was certainly possessed of the art of
+talking nonsense very volubly, and making others talk it. Before dinner
+was announced by a dignified-looking functionary we had got through quite
+an amazing amount of conversation. It fell to Cecil's lot to take in his
+inamorata, whilst I was far away behind with the middle-aged wife of a
+country clergyman. She was very pleasant, though, and I was quite content
+to do but little talking throughout the long banquet, for it was all new
+to me and interesting.
+
+The vast dining-hall--it was really the picture-gallery--the many
+servants in rich liveries, the emblazoned plate, the glittering glasses,
+and the brilliant snatches of conversation which floated around me, all
+were a revelation. Very soon the effect of it passed away and I was able
+to choose my wines and select my dishes, and was free to take part if I
+chose in the talk. But for that first evening I was content to remain
+silent and, as far as possible, unnoticed.
+
+Dinner, which had seemed to me to be growing interminable, came to an end
+at last. Lady Silchester, at the head of a long file of stately women,
+swept down the polished floor, and the procession departed with much
+rustling of robes. Some of the vacant chairs were taken possession of by
+men, and already delicate blue clouds of smoke were curling upwards to
+the vaulted ceiling. It was the short period dearer to the heart of man
+than any during the day. Every one stretched out his stiff limbs, filled
+his glass and assumed his favourite attitude. Voices were raised and a
+sudden change of tone crept in upon the conversation. Only Mr. Ravenor
+and a few of the older guests appeared to be still engrossed in the
+discussion of some abstruse scientific controversy then raging in the
+reviews. Everyone else seemed to be talking lightly of the day's sport,
+the arrangements for the morrow, and his own and other men's horses.
+
+It was getting a little slow for me. Cecil had found some friends, and
+the sound of his hearty boyish laugh came to me often from the other end
+of the table. My immediate neighbours were a bishop, who was deep in
+discussion with a minor canon concerning the doings of some recent
+diocesan conference, at which things seemed to have been more lively than
+harmonious; and on my other side Lord Penraven was quarrelling with the
+lord lieutenant of the county about the pedigree of a racehorse. Both
+disputes were utterly without interest to me, and it was no small relief
+when, as I caught Mr. Ravenor's eye, he beckoned me to a vacant chair by
+his side.
+
+The conversation, which had been for a moment interrupted, was soon
+renewed. I sat silent, listening with ever-increasing admiration to the
+play of words, the subtle arguments, and the epigrammatic brilliancy of
+expression which flashed from one to another of the four disputants. Had
+I known anything of the social or literary life of London I might have
+been less astonished, for Mr. Ravenor and two of his antagonists, Mr.
+Justice Haselton and Professor Clumbers, were reckoned among the finest
+talkers of their day.
+
+At last Mr. Ravenor, very much to my regret, brought the conversation to
+an abrupt close by proposing an exodus to the drawing-rooms. A few of the
+younger men looked eager to depart, but the majority rose and stretched
+themselves with the sad faces of martyrs before forming themselves into
+little groups and quitting the room. Mr. Ravenor remained until the last
+and motioned me to stay with him.
+
+"Well, Philip," he said, when everyone had gone, "how are you getting on
+at Dr. Randall's? Do you like being there?"
+
+"Very much for some things," I answered.
+
+He looked at me closely.
+
+"There is something you have to tell me," he said. "What is it?"
+
+I glanced around at the little army of servants moving noiselessly about
+on all sides.
+
+"There is something," I acknowledged, "but I would rather tell it you
+when we are quite alone. Besides, it is rather a long story. It has
+mostly to do with Mr. Marx."
+
+The calm, stately serenity of Mr. Ravenor's face underwent a sudden
+change. His dark brows almost met into his eyes, which I could not read.
+The change strengthened the impression which had lately been growing upon
+me. There was some deep mystery connected with the personality of Mr.
+Marx in which Mr. Ravenor was somehow concerned.
+
+"What about Mr. Marx? What can you have to say to me about him?" he asked
+coldly.
+
+"More than I should care to say here," I answered, glancing around. "It
+is rather a long----"
+
+"Come into the library to me the last thing tonight," he said quickly. "I
+must know what this story is that you have got hold of. We will go into
+the drawing-room now."
+
+In a few moments the cloud had vanished from his face and he was again
+the polished host. And I, under protest, was inveigled into a corner by
+Miss Agnes Hamilton, and given my first lesson in the fashionable art of
+flirting.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+                          MR. MARX IS WANTED.
+
+
+It was long past midnight before the last little knots of guests had
+wished one another good night, and even then Lord Penraven and a few
+chosen companions only adjourned to a smaller smoking-room in the back
+regions of the Castle. I knew that Mr. Ravenor was not with them,
+however, for I had seen him, after having outstayed all save this handful
+of his guests, cross the hall and enter the library. In about half an
+hour I followed him.
+
+I had expected to find him resting after the great strain which the
+multitude and importance of his guests must have imposed upon him during
+the day. But I found him very differently employed. He was bending low
+over his writing-table, with a cup of tea by his side, and already
+several sheets of closely-written foolscap were scattered about the
+table. At the sound of my entrance he looked up at once and laid down his
+pen.
+
+"Sit there," he said, pointing to an easy-chair opposite to him. "I want
+to see your face while you are talking. Now, what is this tale which you
+have to tell me?"
+
+His manner was far from encouraging and his face wore a severe
+expression. Altogether I felt a little nervous. But it had to be done, so
+I began.
+
+First I told him all about Leonard de Cartienne, his bad influence over
+Cecil, and his correspondence with Mr. Marx. He listened without remark.
+Then I paused to take breath.
+
+"I don't know what you'll say about the rest of my story," I went on. "I
+scarcely know what to think of it myself. But here it is. There is an inn
+in Little Drayton kept by a man named Hart, and Cecil and de Cartienne go
+there--sometimes. About a month before I went to Borden Tower the man
+Hart disappeared. He left home on a journey, the nature of which he kept
+secret even from his daughter, and has never returned or been heard of.
+All the information which his daughter can give is that he has left home
+before on a similar errand and invariably returned with money after three
+or four days."
+
+I paused and glanced at Mr. Ravenor. He was looking a little puzzled, but
+not particularly interested.
+
+"About a month before I left here for Borden Tower," I went on, "I met
+Mr. Marx in Torchester and drove home with him late at night. On the moor
+we were furiously attacked by a man who seemed to be mad and Mr. Marx was
+slightly injured. Two days afterwards Mr. Marx was assaulted by the same
+man in the park, and if I had not turned up he would probably have been
+killed. The man was a lunatic in every respect, save one. He recognized
+Mr. Marx as his enemy and made deliberate attempts upon his life."
+
+Mr. Ravenor softly pulled down the green lampshade on the side nearest to
+him, and in the subdued light I could scarcely see his face, but I felt
+that his interest in my story was growing.
+
+"Well, of course, when Cecil began talking about this man Hart's
+disappearance," I continued, "and I heard a good deal about it at Little
+Drayton, I began to think about this lunatic whom no one knew anything
+about. I put down the exact dates, and I found that Hart must have left
+Little Drayton about a week before the first attack on Mr. Marx by the
+unknown madman. Of course, this by itself was scarcely worth thinking
+about, but the strangest part of it is to come. More out of curiosity
+than anything, I asked to see a photograph of Mr. Hart. His daughter took
+us into the sitting-room to look at one and to her amazement found it
+gone. All search was unavailing. Someone had taken it away. Well, I found
+out where it had been taken and went to order a copy. It was no use. The
+negative had been sold to the same person who alone could have entered
+Miss Hart's sitting-room and abstracted the photograph. That person was
+Leonard de Cartienne, and he has been in communication with Mr. Marx, the
+man whom the lunatic tried to murder. Can you make anything of that,
+sir?"
+
+Apparently Mr. Ravenor had made something of it. He was leaning a little
+forward in his chair and at the sight of his face a great fear came upon
+me.
+
+A ghastly change had crept into it. His eyes were burning with a dry,
+fierce fire, and the pallor extended even to his lips.
+
+He sat forward, with his long, wasted fingers, stretched out convulsively
+before his face, like a man who sees a hideous vision pass before his
+sight and yet remains spellbound, powerless to speak, or move, or break
+away from the loathsome spectacle.
+
+Sickly beads of perspiration stood out upon his clammy forehead and his
+dry lips were moving, although no sound came from them.
+
+I gazed at him in a speechless horror, and as I looked the room and all
+its contents seemed to swim around me. What could Mr. Ravenor have found
+so awful in the story which I had told and how could it concern him?
+
+Suddenly he rose from his seat and stood over me. I was more than ever
+alarmed at his strange expression.
+
+"There is a third connection," he said hoarsely. "Do you remember that a
+man called to see me, whom I declined to admit, on the night of your
+first visit here? When I changed my mind he had disappeared."
+
+I gave a little cry and felt my blood run cold.
+
+"Mr. Marx had something to do with that," I faltered out. "I met him
+under the trees in the avenue and he was horribly frightened to see me. I
+had heard a cry. I was listening."
+
+Mr. Ravenor stretched out his hand to the bell and rang it violently. We
+sat in silence, dreading almost to look at one another until it was
+answered.
+
+"Go to Mr. Marx's room and bid him come here at once," Mr. Ravenor
+commanded.
+
+The man bowed and withdrew. When he reappeared he carried in his hand a
+letter.
+
+"Mr. Marx left this on his desk for you, sir," he said.
+
+"Left it! Where is he? Is he not in the Castle?" questioned Mr. Ravenor
+sharply.
+
+"No, sir. He had a dog cart about half-past four to catch the London
+express at Mellborough."
+
+Mr. Ravenor tore open the note and then threw it across to me. There were
+only a few words:
+
+"Dear Mr. Ravenor,--Kindly excuse me for a day or two. Important business
+of a private nature calls me hurriedly to London. If you are writing me,
+my address will be at the _Hotel Metropole_. M."
+
+There was a silence between us. Then I looked into Mr. Ravenor's
+colourless face.
+
+"We must find that lunatic," I whispered.
+
+Mr. Ravenor turned from me with a shudder.
+
+"We must do nothing of the sort."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+                          I ACCEPT A MISSION.
+
+
+There was a silence which threatened to last for ever.
+
+At length Mr. Ravenor turned his head slightly and looked towards me. The
+eagerness which he saw in my face seemed to strike some grim vein of
+humour in him, for his lips parted a dreary, fleeting smile.
+
+"Are you expecting to hear a confession?" he asked, as it passed away.
+
+A confession from him! God forbid! From him who had ever seemed to me so
+far above other men, that none other were worthy to be classed with him!
+All the old fire of my boyish hero-worship blazed up at the very thought.
+A confession from him! The bare idea was sacrilegious.
+
+He read his answer in the mute, amazed protest of my looks, and did not
+wait for the words which were trembling upon my lips.
+
+"It would do you little good to tell you all that your story has
+suggested to me," he said quietly. "Some day you will know everything;
+but not yet--not yet."
+
+He paused and walked slowly up and down the room, with his hands behind
+him and his eyes fixed upon the floor. Suddenly he stopped and looked up.
+
+"Marx must come back at once," he said, with something of his old
+firmness. "I shall send him a telegram to-morrow to return immediately."
+
+"And if he doesn't come?"
+
+"I must go to him. This matter must be cleared up as far as it can be and
+at once."
+
+"Your guests," I reminded him. "How can you leave them?"
+
+"I forgot them," he exclaimed impatiently. "Philip, will you go?" he
+asked suddenly.
+
+"Yes," I answered quietly, although my heart was beating fast. "Yes, I
+will go. Perhaps it would be best."
+
+He let his hand rest for a moment upon my shoulder, and, though he did
+not say so, I knew that he was pleased. Then he glanced at the clock.
+
+"Two o'clock!" he exclaimed. "Philip, you must leave me now."
+
+I looked towards his writing-table, at which he was already seating
+himself, and hesitated.
+
+"You are not going to write now?" I ventured to protest.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+I pointed to the clock; but he only smiled.
+
+"I am no slave to regular hours," he said quietly. "An hour or two's
+sleep is enough for me at a time."
+
+So I left him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+                                MY RIDE.
+
+
+It was a few minutes past nine when I descended into the long, oaken
+gallery where breakfast was served, and at the head of the principal
+table sat Mr. Ravenor in hunting costume. Everyone who was down was
+evidently bound for the meet. The men were nearly all in scarlet coats,
+and the women in riding-habits and trim little hats, with their veils
+pushed back. There was a great clatter of knives and forks, and a good
+deal of carving going on at the long, polished sideboard, and above it
+all, a loud hum of cheerful talk; altogether it was a very pleasant meal
+that was in progress.
+
+I was making my way towards a gap in the table at the lower end when I
+heard my name called, and looked down into Miss Hamilton's piquant,
+upturned face.
+
+"Come and sit by me," she exclaimed, moving her skirts to make room.
+"See. I've hidden a chair here--for somebody."
+
+I took it with a laugh.
+
+"Well, as somebody is so very lazy this morning," I said, "he doesn't
+deserve to have it; so I will. Can I get you anything?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No, thanks. Look after yourself, do, for we shall have to start
+presently. And now tell me, how did you know for whom I was saving that
+chair?"
+
+"Well, I supposed it was for Cis," I remarked, making a vigorous attack
+upon an adjacent ham.
+
+"Indeed! And supposing I were to say that it wasn't--that it was for
+someone else?"
+
+"Poor Cis!" I said, with a sigh. "Don't tell me who the someone else was,
+Miss Hamilton, please."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall hate him."
+
+"For Lord Silchester's sake?"
+
+"No; for my own."
+
+"Mr. Morton, you're talking nonsense."
+
+"Well, didn't you undertake to teach me how last evening?"
+
+"Teach you! Oh!"--a little ironically--"you're a very apt pupil, Mr.
+Morton."
+
+I looked at her in mute remonstrance.
+
+"With such a tutor, Miss Hamilton----"
+
+She stopped me, laughing.
+
+"Oh, you're a dreadful boy! Let me give you some tea to keep you quiet."
+
+I drew a long sigh and attacked my breakfast vigorously. Presently she
+began again.
+
+"Do you know Nanpantan, Mr. Morton, where the meet is this morning?"
+
+"Very well," I answered, cutting myself some more ham. "Do you mind
+giving me another cup of tea, Miss Hamilton? It was so good!"
+
+She nodded and drew off her thick dogskin glove again.
+
+"You thirsty mortal!" she remarked. "I'm afraid you must have been
+smoking too much last night."
+
+"One cigarette," I assured her. "No more, upon my honour."
+
+"Really! Then you won't get any more tea from me to unsteady your nerves.
+Now tell me, Mr. Morton, do you know this country?"
+
+"Every inch of it. No one better."
+
+"Oh, how nice! And you'll give me a lead to-day, won't you? I do so want
+to do well."
+
+"I should be delighted," I answered; "but, unfortunately, I'm not going
+to hunt."
+
+"Not going to hunt! Then what are you going to do, pray?"
+
+"Going for a ride with a young lady," I answered.
+
+"Oh, indeed!"--with a toss of the head.
+
+There was a short silence. Then curiosity conquered the fit of
+indignation which Miss Hamilton had thought well to assume.
+
+"May I ask the name of the fortunate young lady?"
+
+"You may," I answered calmly, helping myself to toast. "It is little Lady
+Beatrice."
+
+She burst into a peal of laughter, but stopped suddenly.
+
+"What nonsense! Are you going to take the groom's place, then, and hold
+the leading-rein?"
+
+"If she rides with one, very likely," I answered.
+
+There was a short silence. Then Miss Hamilton returned to the charge.
+
+"How old is your inamorata?" she inquired. "Seven or eight?"
+
+"Twelve next birthday," I answered promptly.
+
+"It's quite too ridiculous!" she declared, tossing her head. "I really
+wanted you to come with me this morning, because you know the country,"
+she added, with a sidelong glance from her dark eyes.
+
+"Nothing would have given me greater pleasure," I declared; "but a
+promise is a promise, you know, and we made this one before we knew any
+thing about the meet."
+
+"We! Who are we?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Cis and I."
+
+"Cecil won't go if I ask him to come with me," she said confidently.
+
+I shrugged my shoulders.
+
+"Perhaps not. The more reason why I should."
+
+She turned away from me half amused, half vexed. Just then Cecil
+appeared, and she beckoned him eagerly to her side.
+
+"Cecil, Mr. Morton tells me that you have promised to ride with Beatrice
+this morning," she said.
+
+"So we did," he exclaimed. "Awfully sorry to disappoint her, but, of
+course, I didn't know anything about the meet."
+
+"Oh, I am glad that you are not going to desert me, then," she said,
+laughing. "Mr. Morton declares that he is going to keep his engagement."
+
+"Very good of him, if he is," remarked Cecil, stirring his tea with great
+cheerfulness.
+
+"Don't pity me," I said, rising. "I'm sure I shall enjoy it. _Au revoir_,
+Miss Hamilton."
+
+And I did enjoy it. Many a time afterwards I thought of that slim little
+figure in the long riding-habit, her golden hair streaming in the breeze,
+and her dainty, flushed face aglow with excitement and delight, and of
+the pleasant prattle which her little ladyship poured into my willing
+ears. I remembered, too, her quaint, naïve ways, and the grave way in
+which she thanked me for taking care of her--little mannerisms which soon
+yielded to familiarity and vanished altogether. And, strange though it
+may seem, I found always more satisfaction in recalling these things than
+the winged look and merry speeches of Miss Agnes Hamilton.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+                              MY MISSION.
+
+
+For the first time in my life I was in London--and alone. There had been
+no reply from Mr. Marx to the telegrams commanding his instant return,
+and so on the third morning after my arrival at Ravenor Castle I quitted
+it again to go in search of him. Accustomed though he was to conceal his
+feelings, and admirably though he succeeded in doing so in the presence
+of his guests, I could see that Mr. Ravenor was deeply anxious to have
+the suspicions which my story had awakened either dispelled or confirmed.
+Nor, indeed, although their purport was scarcely so clear to me, was I
+less so.
+
+I suppose that no one, especially if he had never before been in a great
+city, could pass across London for the first time without some emotion of
+wonder. To me it was like entering an unknown world. The vast throng of
+people, the ceaseless din of traffic, and the huge buildings, all filled
+me with amazement which, as we drove through the Strand to Northumberland
+Avenue, grew into bewilderment. Only the recollection of my mission and
+its grave import recalled me to myself as the cab drew up before the
+Hotel Metropole.
+
+My bag was taken possession of at once by one of the hall-porters and I
+engaged a room. Then I made inquiries about Mr. Marx.
+
+The clerk turned over two or three pages of the ledger and shook his
+head. There was no one of that name stopping in the hotel, he informed
+me.
+
+"Can you tell me whether anyone of that name has been staying here during
+the last week?" I asked.
+
+He made a further search and shook his head.
+
+"We have not had the name of Marx upon our books at all, sir, during my
+recollection," he declared. "Quite an uncommon name, too; I should
+certainly have remembered it."
+
+"There have been letters addressed to him here by that name," I said;
+"can you tell me what has become of them?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"That would not be in my department, sir; you will ascertain by inquiring
+at the head-porter's bureau round the corner."
+
+I thanked him and made my way thither across the reception hall. The
+answer to my question was given at once.
+
+"There are letters for a Mr. Marx nearly every morning, sir, and
+telegrams," said the official; "but I don't think that Mr. Marx himself
+is stopping at the hotel; another gentleman always applies for them and
+sends them on."
+
+"And is the other gentleman staying here?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, sir; No. 110."
+
+"Has he any authority to receive them from Mr. Marx?" I inquired.
+
+"I believe so. He showed us a note from Mr. Marx, asking him to receive
+and forward them, and he has to sign, too, for every one he receives. It
+is a rule with us that anyone receiving letters not addressed to himself
+should do so, whether he has authority or not."
+
+"Can you tell me his name?" I asked. "I am sorry to give you so much
+trouble, but I particularly wish to ascertain Mr. Marx's whereabouts, and
+this gentleman knows it."
+
+"Certainly, sir. John, what is No. 110's name?" he asked an assistant.
+
+"Count de Cartienne," was the prompt reply.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLI.
+                        THE COUNT DE CARTIENNE.
+
+
+My surprise at this last piece of information could not pass unnoticed.
+Both the hall-porter and his assistant were evidently well-trained
+servants, but they looked curiously at me and then exchanged rapid
+glances with one another. I recovered myself, however, in an instant.
+
+"This Count de Cartienne," I asked, "is he young? I think I know him.
+Rather dark and thin and short? Is that he?"
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+"No, sir. Count de Cartienne is a tall, aristocratic-looking gentleman,
+middle-aged. You are certain to see him about the hotel. He is in and out
+a great deal."
+
+I thanked him and moved away, for the people were beginning to flock in,
+inquiring for their keys. As it was nearly dinner-time, I followed their
+example and went to my room to change my travelling clothes for more
+conventional attire.
+
+The lift was almost full when I entered it; but as we were on the point
+of starting, a lady, followed by an elderly gentleman, stepped in. I rose
+at once, being nearest the gate, to offer my seat, but the words which I
+had intended to speak died away upon my lips.
+
+Something in the graceful figure, the soft, sweet eyes, and the
+delicately-cut features, seemed to remind me of my mother. It was a faint
+resemblance, perhaps--scarcely more than a suggestion--but it was still
+enough to make my heart beat fast, and to arrest for a moment my
+recollection of where I was. Then suddenly I remembered that I was
+behaving, to say the least of it, strangely, and I turned abruptly away.
+
+At the third floor I stepped out and walked across the corridor to my
+room without glancing once behind. But it was some time before I unpacked
+my portmanteau, or even thought of dressing. Then I remembered that if
+they were dining at the hotel I should see them again, and, turning out
+my clothes at once, I dressed with feverish haste. For the moment I had
+forgotten all about Count de Cartienne, forgotten even the very purpose
+of my visit to London. Only one face, linked with a memory, dwelt in my
+mind and usurped all my thoughts. I felt a strange excitability stealing
+through my frame, and the fingers which sought to fasten my tie shook so
+that they failed in their duty. I seemed to have stepped into another
+state of being.
+
+When I descended into the dining-room it was already almost full, and
+there were very few empty tables. For a minute or two I stood behind the
+entrance screen, looking around. Nowhere could I see any sign of the lady
+whose face had so interested me. Either she was dining away from the
+hotel or had not yet put in an appearance. Hoping devoutly that the
+latter was the case, I took possession of a small table laid for three
+facing the door and ordered my dinner.
+
+I had scarcely finished my soup before an instinctive consciousness that
+I was being watched made me look quickly up. Standing just inside the
+room, calmly surveying the assembled guests, and myself in particular,
+was a tall, distinguished-looking man, perfectly clean-shaven, rather
+fair than otherwise, with a single eye-glass stuck in his eye, through
+which he was coolly examining me. He carried an Inverness cape and an
+opera-hat, and his evening clothes, which fitted him perfectly, were in
+the best possible taste, even down to the plain gold stud in his shirt
+front. His age might have been anything from thirty to fifty, for his
+carriage was perfectly upright, and his hair only slightly streaked with
+grey. Altogether his appearance was that of a well-turned-out, well-bred
+man, and as I glanced away I felt a little mild curiosity to know who he
+was.
+
+He came a few steps farther into the room, and after a moment's
+hesitation passed by a larger table laid for six and took the vacant seat
+at mine. He wished me good-evening in a clear, pleasant voice, with a
+slight foreign accent, resigned his coat and hat to a more than
+ordinarily attentive waiter, and drawing a card from his pocket began
+deliberately to write out his dishes from the menu. Then he shut up his
+pencil, and leaning back in his chair once more glanced round at the
+roomful of people. Having apparently satisfied his curiosity, he yawned,
+and turning towards me, began to talk.
+
+Soon I began to feel myself quite at home with him, and to enjoy my
+dinner with a greatly-added zest. Indeed, in listening to some of his
+quaint recitals of adventures at foreign hotels, I almost forgot to watch
+for the advent of the lady and gentleman for whom I had been looking out
+so eagerly only a few minutes before.
+
+As it happened, however, I saw them enter, and my attention immediately
+wandered from the story which my companion was telling.
+
+Something in the fragility of her appearance, and the weight with which
+she leaned upon her husband's arm, seemed to mark her as an invalid, and
+this expression was in a measure heightened by her black lace dress,
+which, combined with the too perfect complexion and slight figure, gave
+to her face an almost ethereal expression. As I looked into the deep blue
+eyes I seemed again to be able to trace that vague likeness to my mother,
+and I felt my heart beat fast as the impression grew upon me. It was only
+when my new friend stopped abruptly in his anecdote and looked at me
+questioningly, that I could withdraw my eyes from her.
+
+"Are they friends of yours who have just come in?" he asked, without
+turning round.
+
+"No; I never saw them before this afternoon in my life. I wonder if you
+could tell me who they are?"
+
+He moved his chair a little, so as to be able to do so without rudeness,
+and looked round. I happened to be watching him, and I saw at once that
+he recognised them.
+
+Strange to say, the recognition seemed to afford him anything but
+pleasure; a change passed over his face like a flash of lightning, and
+although I only just caught it, it made me feel for the moment decidedly
+uncomfortable. While it lasted the face had not been a pleasant one to
+look upon. But it was not that alone which troubled me. During the moment
+that his expression had been transformed, it had given me an odd,
+disagreeable sense of familiarity.
+
+He was himself again almost immediately--so soon that I could scarcely
+credit the change--and more than once afterwards I felt inclined to put
+that evil look and lowering brow down to a trick of my imagination. Even
+when I had decided to do so, however, I caught myself wondering more than
+once of whom they had reminded me.
+
+He moved his chair again and went on with his dinner in silence.
+
+"You recognised them?" I ventured to remark,
+
+"Yes," he answered curtly.
+
+"Would you mind telling me who they are, then?" I persisted. "I feel
+interested in them."
+
+He looked up curiously and kept his eyes fixed on me while he answered my
+question.
+
+"The man is Lord Langerdale, an Irish peer, and the lady with him is his
+wife."
+
+"Thank you. The lady's face reminded me of someone I knew once."
+
+He removed his eyes and his tone grew lighter.
+
+"Indeed! Rather an uncommon type of face, too. She's a lovely woman
+still, though she looks delicate."
+
+I assented silently. Somehow I did not care to discuss her with this
+stranger.
+
+"Perhaps you noticed," he went on, after a short pause, "that it was
+rather a shock to me to see them here?"
+
+"Yes, I did notice that," I admitted.
+
+He sighed and looked grave for a moment. Then he poured himself out a
+glass of champagne and drank it deliberately off.
+
+"It was purely a matter of association," he said, in a low tone. "A
+somewhat painful incident in my life was connected with that family,
+although with no present member of it. Pass the bottle, and let us change
+the subject."
+
+We talked of other things, and for a time all my former interest in his
+piquant anecdotes and trenchant remarks was renewed. But while he was
+gravely considering with a waiter the relative merits of two brands of
+claret, I found my eyes wandering to the table at our right, in search of
+the woman whose face had so attracted me. This time my eyes met hers.
+
+Then a strange thing happened. Instead of looking away at once, she kept
+her eyes steadily fixed upon me and suddenly gave a distinct start. I saw
+the colour rush into her face and leave it again almost as swiftly; her
+thin lips were slightly parted, and her whole expression was one of great
+agitation. I tried to look away, but I could not; I felt somehow forced
+to return her steady gaze. But when she turned to her husband and touched
+him on the arm, evidently to direct his attention to me, the spell was
+broken, and I moved my chair slightly, making some casual remark to my
+companion which was sufficient to set the ball of conversation rolling
+again. But one stolen glance a few moments later showed me that both
+husband and wife were regarding me attentively, and several times
+afterwards, when I looked over towards their table, I met Lady
+Langerdale's eyes, full of a sad, wistful, and withal puzzled expression
+which I could not read.
+
+As dinner drew towards a close it occurred to me that my _vis-à-vis_ had
+studiously avoided turning once towards our neighbours. If he desired to
+escape recognition, however, he was unsuccessful, for just as we were
+beginning to think of quitting our places, Lord Langerdale left his seat
+to speak to some acquaintances at the other end of the room, and on his
+way back he looked straight into my companion's face. He started
+slightly, hesitated, and then came slowly up to our table.
+
+"Eugène!" he exclaimed. "By all that's wonderful, is it really you? Why,
+we heard that you had become an Oriental, and forsworn the ways and
+haunts of civilisation."
+
+He spoke lightly, but it was easy to see that the meeting was a very
+embarrassing one for both of them.
+
+"I have not been in England long," was the quiet reply. "Lady Langerdale,
+I am glad to see, is well."
+
+"She is fairly well. How strange that we should meet here! Why, it must
+be twenty years since I have seen you."
+
+"I have spent but little time in England."
+
+"I suppose not," Lord Langerdale answered slowly. "We have heard of you
+occasionally. Will you come and speak to my wife?"
+
+"I think not," was the calm reply. "It could only be very painful for
+both of us. If Lady Langerdale desires it--not unless--I will call upon
+you at your rooms. But, frankly, I would rather not."
+
+Lord Langerdale appeared by no means offended, rather a little relieved,
+and answered sadly:
+
+"It is for you to choose. If you can tell her that the past has lost some
+of its bitterness for you, and--and----"
+
+He hesitated and seemed at a loss how to express himself. My _vis-à-vis_
+smiled--a smile of peculiar bitterness it was--and interrupted cynically:
+
+"And that I am a reformed character, I suppose you would say, and have
+become a respectable member of society! No, no, Lord Langerdale, I am no
+hypocrite, and I shall never tell her that. A wanderer upon the face of
+the earth I have been during the best years of my life, and a wanderer I
+shall always be--adventurer, some people have said. Well, well, let it be
+so; what matter?"
+
+Lord Langerdale shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"I am sorry to hear you talk so, Eugène; but of one thing you may always
+be sure--Elsie and I will never be your judges. If you feel that it will
+reopen old wounds, stop away; but if not, why, come and see us. You have
+a young friend with you," he added, turning slightly towards me and
+speaking a little more earnestly than the occasion seemed to require.
+
+The man whom he called Eugène shook his head.
+
+"I am not so fortunate," he said stiffly. "I can claim no more than what
+on the Continent we call a 'table acquaintance' with this young
+gentleman."
+
+It might have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that Lord Langerdale
+looked distinctly disappointed. He bowed courteously to me, however,
+shook hands with his friend and rejoined his wife. My new acquaintance
+resumed his former position, and, with it, his old nonchalant manner.
+
+"Your pardon," he said lightly, "for this long digression. And now tell
+me, _mon ami_, shall we spend the evening together? You are a stranger in
+London, you say; I am not," he added drily. "Come, shall I be your
+cicerone?"
+
+I really had nothing else to do, so I assented at once.
+
+"Good! Let us finish the bottle to a pleasant evening. But, ah! I forgot.
+We must be introduced. The English custom demands it, even though we
+introduce ourselves. Your name is?"
+
+"Morton," I answered--"Philip Morton. I haven't a card."
+
+"Good! Then, Mr. Philip Morton, permit me the honour of introducing to
+you--myself. I am called de Cartienne--the Count Eugène de Cartienne--but
+I do not use the title in this country."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLII.
+                           NEWS OF MR. MARX.
+
+
+For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for the simple reason that I
+was far too astonished to make any remark. My new acquaintance sat
+looking at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly toying with
+his eyeglass; yet, notwithstanding his apparent nonchalance, I felt
+somehow aware that he was watching me keenly.
+
+"My name appears to be a surprise to you," he remarked, keeping his eyes
+fixed steadily upon my face. "Have you heard it before, may I ask?"
+
+"Yes," I assented, "one of the fellows down at Borden Tower----"
+
+"What, you know Leonard?" he interrupted. "Egad! how strange! Then you
+are one of Dr. Randall's pupils, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; I have only been there a very short time, though. And Leonard
+is----"
+
+"My son."
+
+I looked at him intently. Now that the fact itself had been suggested to
+me, I could certainly trace come faint likeness. But what puzzled me most
+was that he seemed also to remind me, although more vaguely, of someone
+else, whom I could not call to mind at all. Neither did he seem
+particularly anxious for me to assist him, for, as though somewhat
+annoyed at my close scrutiny, he rose abruptly to his feet.
+
+"Come, what do you say to cigarettes and coffee? We are outstaying
+everybody here."
+
+I followed him downstairs into the smoke-room. We seated ourselves upon a
+luxurious divan, and the Count immediately began to talk about his son.
+
+"And so you know Leonard? How strange! Do you see much of one another?"
+
+"Naturally, considering that there are only three of us at Dr.
+Randall's," I reminded him.
+
+"Ah, just so! And your other fellow pupil is young Lord Silchester, is he
+not? Rather an awkward number, three. Do you all chum together pretty
+well?"
+
+What was I to say? I could not tell him that my relations with his son
+were decidedly inimical; so, after a moment's hesitation, I answered a
+little evasively:
+
+"I'm afraid we're not a very sociable trio. You see, Cis and I are very
+keen on out-of-door amusements, and your son rather prefers reading."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Yes; I quite understand. You and Lord Silchester are thoroughly English,
+and essentially so in your tastes and love of sport. Leonard, now, is
+more than half a foreigner. His mother was an Austrian lady, and I myself
+am of French extraction. By the by, Mr. Morton, may I ask you a
+question--in confidence?" he added slowly.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"It is about Leonard. I don't think that you need have any scruples about
+telling me, for I am his father, you know, and have a certain right to
+know everything about him."
+
+He looked at me gravely, as though for confirmation of his words, and I
+silently expressed my assent. Leonard de Cartienne was nothing to me; and
+if his father was going to ask me the question which I hoped he was, he
+should have a straightforward answer.
+
+"I sent my son to Dr. Randall's," he began, sinking his voice to a
+confidential whisper, "not because he was backward in his studies--for
+such is not, I believe, the case--but because he has unfortunately
+inherited a very deplorable taste. I found it out only by accident, and
+it was a very great shock to me. Leonard is fond--too fond--of playing
+cards for money. I thought that at Borden Tower he would have no
+opportunity for indulging this lamentable weakness; but from what I have
+recently heard about Dr. Randall, it has occurred to me that he is
+perhaps a little too much of the student and too little of the
+schoolmaster. You understand me? I mean that he is perhaps so closely
+wrapped up in his private work, that after the hours which he gives to
+his pupils for instruction they may secure almost as much liberty as
+though they were at college."
+
+"That's just it," I answered: "and, M. de Cartienne, now that you have
+spoken to me of it, I will tell you something. Your son does play a good
+deal with Lord Silchester. I know that this is so, for I have played
+myself occasionally."
+
+"And Lord Silchester wins, I presume?"
+
+Something in the Count's tone as he asked the question, and something in
+his face as I glanced up, did not please me. Both seemed to tell the same
+tale, both somehow seemed to imply that his question to me was altogether
+sarcastic, and that he knew the contrary to be the case.
+
+It was the first gleam of mistrust which I had felt towards my new
+acquaintance, and it did not last, for the expression of deep concern and
+annoyance with which he heard my answer seemed too natural to be assumed.
+
+"On the contrary, your son always wins," I told him drily.
+
+His finely-pencilled dark eyebrows almost met in a heavy frown, and he
+threw his cigarette away impatiently.
+
+"I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for answering my question," he
+said; "but I needn't tell you that I'm very sorry to hear what you say.
+Something must be done with Mr. Leonard at once."
+
+He lit another cigarette and threw himself back in a corner of the divan.
+Then I made up my mind to speak to him on the subject which was uppermost
+in my mind.
+
+"You know a Mr. Marx, I believe? I was inquiring for him at the hotel
+office this afternoon, and they told me that you were forwarding his
+letters. Could you give me his address?"
+
+M. de Cartienne removed his cigarette from his teeth, and looked dubious.
+
+"Yes, I know Marx; know him well," he admitted; "but your request puts me
+in rather an awkward position. You see, this is how the matter lies," he
+added, leaning forward confidentially. "Marx and I are old friends, and
+he's been of great service to me more than once, and never asked for any
+return. Well, I met him--I won't say when, but it wasn't long ago--in
+Pall Mall, and he hailed me as the very man he was most anxious to meet.
+We lunched together, and then he told me what he wanted. He was in London
+for a short while, he said, and wished to remain perfectly incognito.
+There would be letters for him, he said, at the Metropole. Would I fetch
+them, and forward them to him at an address which he would give me, on
+condition that I gave him my word of honour to keep it secret? I asked,
+naturally, what reason he had for going into hiding; for virtually that
+is what it seemed to me to be; but he would give me no definite answer.
+Would I do him this favour or not? he asked. And, remembering the many
+services which he had rendered me, I found it quite impossible to refuse.
+That is my position. I'm really extremely sorry not to be able to help
+you, but you see for yourself that I cannot."
+
+His tone was perfectly serious and his manner earnest. I had not the
+faintest shadow of doubt as to his sincerity.
+
+"You can't help me at all then?" I said, no doubt with some of the
+disappointment which I felt in my tone.
+
+He looked doubtful.
+
+"Well, I don't quite know about that," he said slowly, as though weighing
+something over in his mind. "Look here, Mr. Morton," he added, frankly
+enough, "what do you want with the man? Is it anything unpleasant?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered. "I do not wish any harm to Mr. Marx unless he
+deserves it. I want to ask him a few questions, that's all. Unless the
+man's a perfect scoundrel he will be able to answer them satisfactorily,
+and my having discovered his whereabouts will not harm him. If, on the
+other hand, he cannot answer those questions, why, then, you may take my
+word for it, M. de Cartienne, that he's an unmitigated blackguard,
+perfectly unworthy of your friendship, and undeserving of the slightest
+consideration from you."
+
+M. de Cartienne nodded and leaned forward, with his arm across the divan.
+
+"You put the matter very plainly," he said, "and what you say is fair
+enough. I'll tell you how far I am prepared to help you. I won't tell you
+Mr. Marx's address, because I have pledged my word not to divulge it;
+but, if you like, I'll take you where there will be a very fair chance of
+your seeing him."
+
+"He is in London, then?"
+
+The Count shrugged his shoulders and smiled slightly.
+
+"Permit me to keep my word in the letter, if not in the spirit," he
+answered. "I am going to spend my evening in this way; I am going, first
+of all, to a theatre for an hour or so; then I am going to call at a
+couple of clubs, and afterwards I am going to a club of a somewhat
+different sort. If you like to be my companion for the evening I shall be
+charmed; and if it should happen that we run up against any friend of
+yours--well, the world is not so very large, after all."
+
+"Thanks. I'll come with you with pleasure!" I answered without
+hesitation.
+
+He stood up underneath the soft glare of the electric light, and as I
+turned towards him something in his face puzzled me. It was gone directly
+my eyes met his--gone, but not before it had left a curious impression.
+It seemed almost as though a triumphant light had flashed for an instant
+in his bright, steel-coloured eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIII.
+                              ABOUT TOWN.
+
+
+We passed up the heavily-carpeted steps into the central hall of the
+hotel. The Count stopped for a moment to inquire for letters at the chief
+porter's bureau, and as we turned away we came face to face with Lord
+Langerdale.
+
+He hesitated when he saw us together, but only for a moment. Then he
+advanced with a genial smile upon his well-cut, handsome face.
+
+"You're the very man I wanted to see, de Cartienne," he said. "I suppose
+you know your young friend's name by this time? Will you introduce us?"
+
+The Count looked distinctly annoyed, but he complied at once.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," he said coldly, "this is Mr. Morton. Mr. Morton--Lord
+Langerdale."
+
+Lord Langerdale held out his hand frankly and drew me a little on one
+side, although not out of the Count's hearing.
+
+"Mr. Morton," he said pleasantly, "I am going to make a somewhat
+extraordinary request. My only excuse for it is a lady's will, and when
+you reach my age you will know that it is a thing by no means to be
+lightly regarded. My wife has been very much impressed by what she terms
+a marvellous likeness between you and--and a very near relative of hers
+whom she had lost sight of for a long while. She is most anxious to make
+your acquaintance. May I have the honour of presenting you to her?"
+
+For a moment my head swam. The likeness of Lady Langerdale to my mother,
+and then this strange fancy on her part! What if they should be something
+more than coincidences? The very thought was bewildering. But how could
+it be? No; the thing was impossible. Still, the request was couched in
+such terms that there could be but one answer.
+
+"I shall be extremely pleased!" I declared readily.
+
+"Then come into the drawing-room for a few minutes, will you?" Lord
+Langerdale said. "Good-night, Eugène! No use asking you to join us, I
+know."
+
+Count de Cartienne turned on his heel with brow as black as thunder.
+
+"Good-night, Lord Langerdale!" he said stiffly; "Good-night, Mr. Morton!"
+
+"But I am coming with you, you know!" I exclaimed, surprised at his
+manner. "Couldn't you wait for me five minutes?"
+
+"It is impossible!" he answered shortly; "we are late already! My
+carriage must have been waiting half an hour. I had no idea of the time."
+
+It was rather an embarrassing moment for me. The Count evidently expected
+me to keep my engagement with him, and would be offended if I did not do
+so. On the other hand, Lord Langerdale was waiting to take me to his
+wife, and, from the slight frown with which he was regarding de
+Cartienne, I judged that he did not approve of his interference.
+
+Inclination prompted me strongly to throw my engagement with the Count to
+the winds and to place myself under Lord Langerdale's guidance. But,
+after all, the sole purpose of my journey to London was to discover Mr.
+Marx, and if I neglected this opportunity I might lose sight of the only
+man who could help me in my search. Clearly, therefore, my duty was to
+fulfil my prior engagement.
+
+"If M. de Cartienne cannot wait," I said regretfully, "I am afraid, Lord
+Langerdale, that the pleasure you offer me must be deferred. Would Lady
+Langerdale allow me to call at your rooms to-morrow?"
+
+Evidently he was displeased, for his manner changed at once.
+
+"I will leave a note for you with the hall porter," he said.
+"Good-night."
+
+I turned away with the Count, who preserved a perfectly unmoved
+countenance. Before we had taken half a dozen steps, however, he was
+accosted by a gentleman entering the hotel, and, turning round, he begged
+me to excuse him for a moment.
+
+I strolled away by myself, waiting. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my
+arm, and, looking round, I found Lord Langerdale by my side.
+
+"I just want to ask you a question, Mr. Morton, if you'll allow me," he
+said kindly. "Remember that I'm an old man--old enough to be your
+father--and a man of the world, and you are a very young one. You won't
+mind a word of advice?"
+
+"Most certainly not!" I assured him heartily.
+
+"Well, then, Count de Cartienne is quite a new acquaintance of yours, is
+he not?"
+
+"I never saw him before this evening," I admitted.
+
+"And you--pardon me, but you look very young, and a great deal too fresh
+and healthy for a town man--you don't know much of London life, do you?"
+
+"Nothing at all," I answered. "This is my first visit to London, and I
+only arrived this afternoon."
+
+Lord Langerdale looked very serious.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Morton," he said earnestly, "I feel sure from your face
+that I can trust you, and that what I am going to say you will consider
+in confidence. I should be the last one to say anything against Eugène de
+Cartienne, for he received a terrible injury from one of my family, or,
+rather, my wife's family, and I fear that has exercised an evil influence
+over his life. But, all the same, I cannot see you, a youngster,
+perfectly inexperienced, starting out to spend your first night in town
+with him without feeling it my duty to tell you that I consider him one
+of the most unfortunate and most dangerous companions whom you could have
+chosen. There! I hope you're not offended?"
+
+"How could I be?" I answered gratefully. "But I am not going out with him
+from choice, or for the sake of amusement. We are together simply
+because, as far as I know, he is the only man who can solve a mystery
+which I have come up to London to try to clear up."
+
+Lord Langerdale started, and his manner became almost agitated.
+
+"This is most extraordinary!" he declared. "Mr. Morton, you must--ah,
+here comes de Cartienne!" he broke off in a tone of deep annoyance.
+"Breakfast with me to-morrow morning at ten--no, nine o'clock!" he added,
+in a lower key. "I have something most important to say to you."
+
+I nodded assent and the Count joined us.
+
+There was a faint flush on his pale cheeks and his eyes were flashing
+brightly, as he looked at us standing close together. It might have been
+the result of his recent conversation, of course; but, coupled with his
+frowning brow and quick, suspicious glance, it looked a great deal more
+like a sudden fit of anger at seeing us engaged in what appeared like a
+confidential talk. But there was no trace of it in his tone when he
+addressed us.
+
+"Really, you two might be conspirators," he said lightly. "Well, Mr.
+Morton, have you changed your mind, or am I to have the honour of your
+company this evening?"
+
+"I am ready to start when you are," I answered. "Good-night once more,
+Lord Langerdale."
+
+He shook my hand warmly, nodded to the Count, who returned the salute
+with a stiff bow, and left us. We descended into the street, and a very
+small, neat brougham, drawn by a pair of dark, handsome bays, drew up at
+the entrance. The coachman's livery was perfectly plain, save that he
+wore a cockade in his hat, and there was neither coat-of-arms nor crest
+upon the panel of the door. We stepped inside, and the Count held a
+speaking-tube for a moment to his mouth while he consulted his watch.
+There was no footman.
+
+"Frivolity Theatre," he directed. And we drove off at a smart pace into
+the Strand.
+
+We reached our destination in a few moments and had no difficulty in
+obtaining seats. It was all new to me, and I felt a little bewildered as
+I endeavoured to follow the performance. I soon had enough of that. The
+piece was a screaming farce, vulgar and stupid.
+
+"I don't think Mr. Marx is here," I whispered to de Cartienne.
+
+"I don't think he is," was the rejoinder. "I had a good look round for
+him when we came in. Have you had enough of this performance? If so,
+we'll go. I think I know where we shall find Marx."
+
+"Then let us go at once," I urged.
+
+We passed out of the theatre into the street, The brougham was there
+waiting for us.
+
+"Jump in!" said the Count, opening the door. "I'm going to tell the
+fellow where to drive to."
+
+I obeyed him, and waited for nearly a minute before he had given his
+directions and joined me. Then he took his seat by my side and we drove
+quickly off.
+
+"Why did you not use the speaking-tube?" I asked idly.
+
+He answered without looking at me.
+
+"It is rather an out-of-the-way place," he said slowly, "and I did not
+wish the man to make a mistake."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIV.
+                  A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.
+
+
+During the earlier part of the evening, since we had left the hotel, my
+companion had shown no disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silence
+amounted almost to moroseness, and he had not always answered my
+questions. But immediately we had started on this new expedition his
+manner underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay himself out with
+feverish eagerness to entertain me and to absorb my attention.
+
+"I hope you're not tired," he said suddenly, at the end of one of his
+anecdotes. "We have rather a long drive before us."
+
+"Not in the least," I assured him. "What is the place we are going to?"
+
+"A sort of private club. In confidence, I'll tell you why it is so far
+out of the way. Some of the members are fond of playing a little high,
+and have started a roulette board. That sort of thing is best kept quiet,
+you know."
+
+"The place is a gambling-club, then?"
+
+"Something of that sort," he acknowledged. "I shouldn't dream of taking
+you there if it wasn't for the sake of meeting Marx. You understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, thanks. Save for that reason I shouldn't think of going."
+
+"What an infernal night!" he exclaimed, looking out of the carriage for a
+moment; "almost enough to give one the miserables. Come, we'll shut it
+out." He struck a match and, turning round, lit a lamp which was fixed at
+the back of the carriage. Then he quietly pulled down the blinds and
+began to tell me a story, of which I heard not a word. My thoughts were
+engrossed by another matter. M. de Cartienne's action, coupled with the
+strangeness of his manner, could bear but one interpretation.
+
+He had some reason for keeping me as much as possible in the dark as to
+the route we were taking.
+
+For a few moments I felt, to put it mildly, uneasy. Then several possible
+explanations of such conduct occurred to me, and my apprehensions grew
+weaker. What more natural, after all, than that M. de Cartienne should
+desire to keep secret from me the exact whereabouts of an establishment
+which, by his own admission, was maintained contrary to the law? The more
+I considered it, the more reasonable such an explanation appeared to me.
+I began to wonder, even, that he had not asked me for some pledge of
+secrecy. But there was time enough for that.
+
+By degrees the rattling of vehicles around us grew less and less, until
+at last all traffic seemed to have died away. Once, during a pause in the
+conversation, I raised the blind a little way and looked out. We had left
+even the region of suburban semi-detached villas; and, blurred though the
+prospect was by the mud which the fast-rolling wheels drew incessantly
+into the air and on to the window-panes, I could just distinguish the dim
+outline of hedges and fields beyond.
+
+I looked at the carriage-clock and found that we had been already an hour
+and a quarter on our journey. From the furious pace at which we were
+travelling we must have come nearly fifteen miles.
+
+"This place is a long way out," I remarked.
+
+The Count laughed and lit a cigarette. "Oh, there's a good reason for
+that. But the men don't drive here from town--at least, not in the
+winter. There's a railway-station only a mile away."
+
+"We're almost there now, then, I suppose?"
+
+He let the blind up with a spring and looked out.
+
+"Nearer than I imagined," he remarked. "We shall be there in three
+minutes."
+
+He was just drawing in his head when he gave a visible start and leaned
+right out of the window, with his face upturned to the beating rain,
+listening intently.
+
+Suddenly he withdrew it, and, snatching at the check-string, pulled it
+violently. I looked at him in amazement. His face was ghastly pale, but
+his thin lips were set firmly together and his features rigid with
+determination. It was the face of a brave, desperate man preparing to
+meet some terrible danger.
+
+The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped down into the road. He
+did not speak to me, so, after a second's hesitation, I followed him and
+stood by his side. There was no mistaking the sound which had alarmed
+him. Behind, at no very great distance, was the sound of galloping horses
+and the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels.
+
+Round the corner it came, a small brougham drawn by a pair of great
+thoroughbred horses, whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards' distance,
+seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de Cartienne snatched one of
+the carriage-lamps from the bracket and, stepping into the middle of the
+road, waved it backwards and forwards over his head. His action had the
+desired effect.
+
+Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses, bathed in foam and mud,
+came to a standstill before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long fur
+coat thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped out into the road.
+The Count was by his side in a moment.
+
+I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot, but with my eyes
+fixed upon the two men.
+
+They could scarcely have spoken a hundred words before their colloquy was
+at an end. The new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de Cartienne
+followed his example. I looked at him as he stepped in, anxious to see
+what effect the other's news had had upon him. Apparently it was not so
+bad as he had feared, for, although he still looked anxious and pale, his
+face had lost its ghastly hue.
+
+We drove on in the same direction as before. When we had started he
+turned to me.
+
+"Do you know what a police raid is?" he asked.
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"Well, I can't stop to explain," he went on rapidly. "Sir Fred--my friend
+there, has just brought down word of some strange rumours about the clubs
+to-night. It seems the police have got to hear of this place and are
+going to pay it an uninvited visit. They won't be here for an hour,
+though, so if you like just to come inside and see whether Marx is there
+or not, you will have time."
+
+We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown avenue, leading up to
+a red-brick house, unilluminated by a single light.
+
+We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting approach and
+pulling up at the grim, closed door. The carriage had scarcely come
+to a standstill before the Count was on the doorstep, fitting a
+curiously-shaped key into the lock. It yielded at once and we both
+stepped inside, followed by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriage
+had pulled up close behind ours.
+
+We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed to be stirring in the
+house, although the mat under our feet, in some way connected with an
+electric alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival. Then we
+heard swift feet approaching and a tall, hard-featured woman in a plain
+black gown, and holding a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.
+
+M. de Cartienne took her by the arm and led her on one side. The other
+man, who was making vain attempts to appear at his ease and composed,
+sank into a chair, palpably trembling. Of the real nature of the danger
+which was imminent I could form only the slightest idea; but that it was
+something very much to be feared I could easily gather from his agitation
+and de Cartienne's manner.
+
+Suddenly the latter turned round.
+
+"Ackland," he said quickly to the man in the chair, eyeing him keenly and
+with a shade of contempt in his tone, "you are not fit for any of the
+serious work, I can see. Listen! Light up the club-room and the
+smoke-room, stir up the fires, bring out the cards and wine-glasses,
+empty some tobacco-ash about, make the place look habitable for us when
+we come. Ferdinand is on the watch outside and will give you notice of
+our visitors. Ring all three alarm-bells at once if he gives the signal.
+Morton, I want you to wait for me. I'll send you away all right before
+anything happens; but don't go unless you see me again--unless you're
+frightened."
+
+He turned on his heel and, without waiting for any answer from either of
+us, hurried away down the passage. The man whom he had called Ackland
+rose from his seat and, striking a match, lighted the gas-brackets all
+around the hall and the burners of a candelabra which hung from the roof.
+
+My companion then threw open a door and I followed him into a
+luxuriously-appointed room, furnished with a suite of lounges and
+easy-chairs corresponding with those in the hall.
+
+Whilst I was looking round, he hastily began moving the chairs about, as
+though they had been recently used, poking the fire and generally making
+the place look inhabited. Having done this, he crossed the hall and
+entered the opposite room. It was a little smaller, but similarly
+appointed and decorated, save that a long table, covered with a white
+cloth and laid for dinner, stood in the centre, and a smaller one, with a
+green baize covering at the further end. My companion threw a pack of
+cards and some counters upon the latter and drew it closer up to the
+fire. Then, having placed some chairs around it, he went back into the
+hall again and I followed.
+
+All the while we had been moving about, strange noises had been going on
+under our feet. Now and then the sound of hurrying footsteps and of
+hoarse voices reached us, and, more often still, the steady rumbling of
+heavy articles being moved about. I looked at my companion for an
+explanation, but he did not seem inclined to offer one.
+
+"What's going on underneath?" I asked at last.
+
+"Bowls!" he answered curtly, "Don't talk, please, I want to listen!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLV.
+                        A MYSTERIOUS COMMISSION.
+
+
+The underground noises continued for about a quarter of an hour, during
+which time my companion busied himself by removing from the club-room
+various articles--the false top of a table marked out in a curious
+fashion, several mahogany boxes, and other contrivances strange to me,
+but presumably gambling appliances, with all of which he disappeared
+through the door by which de Cartienne had made his exit, returning again
+directly.
+
+At last everything was quiet, ominously quiet; then the door from the
+hall was thrown suddenly open, and the Count entered, followed by four or
+five other men. They were all apparently gentlemen, and in evening
+clothes, but terribly soiled and disordered. Some were splashed with mud
+from head to foot, some had their shirt-fronts blackened and crumpled,
+and the hands of all of them were black with grease and dirt. All looked
+more or less pale and nervous--in fact, M. de Cartienne was the only one
+who thoroughly retained his composure.
+
+There was a lavatory on the other side of the staircase, towards which
+the whole of the little party trooped, M. de Cartienne being the last. As
+he disappeared he looked round and beckoned me to follow him. I did so
+and stood by his side, while he plunged his head into some cold water,
+and then began to wash his hands.
+
+"I'm sorry this should have happened to-night, Morton," he said. "Marx
+was here, but has bolted in a fright."
+
+"Couldn't I catch him up?" I asked.
+
+de Cartienne shook his head.
+
+"No; he's in the train by this time. He comes here every night, though.
+I'll bring you down to-morrow, perhaps."
+
+"Are you coming back now?" I asked.
+
+"No; I must see this thing through. You can go and at once, though. My
+carriage will take you back. I shall return by train. By the by, there's
+a small favour I want to ask you."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I have kept a few private papers here, which I should not care to have
+examined should the search really take place. I want you to take them
+back to the hotel for me. The box is a little too heavy for me to carry,
+so I have told them to put it in the carriage as a footstool for you. You
+won't mind that?"
+
+"Not in the least," I replied. "When shall I see you again?"
+
+"At the hotel some time to-morrow. Come along now," he added, putting on
+his coat.
+
+He strolled with me to the front door and, throwing it open, listened
+intently.
+
+There was no sound save the moaning of the wind in the bare trees which
+stood by the side of the house and the patter of the fast-falling rain. I
+stepped into the carriage and the Count came to the window to me.
+
+"Don't forget," he said, pointing to a long, oblong box secured by a
+strong lock. "Draw the rug a little more over your knees--so."
+
+I obeyed him and let it hang down to hide the box, which I began to see
+was his object.
+
+"And if you should meet anyone and they should be impertinent enough to
+ask you where you are going, don't tell them. Give them your card and
+tell them to go to the devil. If they are very pressing indeed, you must
+tell a lie. Say that you've been to dine with Sir Sedgwick Bromley at
+Hatherly Hall. Don't forget the name."
+
+"Very well. Are you coming back to the Metropole to-night?" I asked.
+
+"I think so. But if you don't mind I should be glad if you would have the
+box taken up into your room and keep it for me. I shouldn't like anything
+to happen to it."
+
+I promised, but without much alacrity. We shook hands and the carriage
+drove off.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVI.
+                        A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.
+
+
+We could scarcely have accomplished more than a mile of our homeward
+journey when, with a sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, the
+carriage was brought to a standstill.
+
+On the opposite side of the road were two carriages, or, rather, flys,
+from one of which a tall, slim man was in the act of descending. Several
+other men on horseback were just riding up from behind. They were all in
+plain clothes, but something about their _physique_ and general
+appearance had an unmistakable suggestion of police.
+
+The man who had been descending from the nearer of the two carriages
+crossed the road and approached me.
+
+"Sorry to detain you, sir," he said, saluting in military fashion, "but I
+must ask you your name and address and where you have been this evening."
+
+"I don't know whether it has occurred to you that your behaviour is
+rather strange," I remarked, looking at him steadily, "not to say
+impertinent! What the mischief do you mean by stopping my carriage in
+this way on the high road and asking me questions like that? Who are
+you?"
+
+He hesitated, and then answered with a little more respect in his manner.
+
+"I am deputy chief sergeant at Scotland Yard, sir, and these are my men.
+We have a little business at a house not far from here, and our orders
+are to detain and procure the names and addresses of all persons whom we
+might encounter of whom we had reasonable suspicion that they had
+recently left the house in question. You will not object to give me your
+name, sir?"
+
+"Certainly not. My name is Philip Morton, and my general address is
+Ravenor Castle, Leicestershire. At present I am staying at the Metropole
+Hotel. Are you satisfied?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir," he answered, after one more rapid glance around the
+carriage. "I see that you are not concerned in this affair. I wish you
+good-night!"
+
+We drove rapidly off, and I began to feel not a little dissatisfied with
+myself. The Count had no right to have mixed me up in this affair.
+
+In my ill-temper I gave the box, which lay concealed under my feet, a
+savage kick, sufficient to have sent it flying to the other end of the
+carriage. But there was a little surprise in store for me. To my
+amazement the box remained perfectly immovable, just as though it had
+been screwed into the bottom of the carriage.
+
+Forgetting the Count's earnest injunctions, I threw aside the rug and,
+stooping down, tried to lift it by the handles. In those days I was proud
+of my muscles, and not altogether without reason, but it needed all my
+strength to lift that small box from the ground and hold it for a moment
+in my arms. What could it contain? Papers, cards, gambling appliances?
+Surely it could be none of these! The very idea was ridiculous! The Count
+de Cartienne had deceived me. I had been made the catspaw of those pale,
+anxious men who had watched me start so eagerly and scanned me over with
+many furtive glances. What it was of which I was in charge, I could not
+tell; but in that box lay their secret, and my first indignant impulse
+was to open the carriage door and kick it out into the road.
+
+But are not second thoughts always better? Might not this affair shape
+itself to my advantage? There need be no more obligations to the Count de
+Cartienne. He was possessed of information which was valuable to me. I
+was possessed of this box, which, without doubt, was invaluable to him. I
+would propose an exchange--he should bring me face to face with Mr. Marx
+and receive his precious box; or, if he refused to do so, its destination
+should be Scotland Yard. A very equitable arrangement!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVII.
+                             LIGHT AT LAST.
+
+
+We were in London again, bowling smoothly along wide stretches of silent,
+gas-lit streets, empty, and almost deserted now, for it was past two
+o'clock.
+
+Soon we turned sharply into Northumberland Avenue, and pulled up at the
+hotel. The man on the box--footman I suppose he was, although he was not
+in livery--opened the carriage-door for me and then took possession of
+the small trunk.
+
+"If you will allow me, sir, I will take this up to your room," he said.
+
+"You needn't trouble," I answered. "I can manage."
+
+He retained possession of it.
+
+"The Count's orders were, sir, that I should not allow the hotel servants
+to meddle with it, and that, if possible, I should myself see it
+deposited in your room. You have no objection, sir, I hope?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered, turning away. "In fact, the less I have to do
+with it the better."
+
+We entered the hotel and, crossing the hall, rang for the lift.
+
+The lift came to a standstill at the third floor and we stepped out on to
+the corridor. The Count's servant followed me to my room, deposited the
+box on a chair at the foot of the bed and wished me good-night.
+
+I then got into bed and, full of excitement though the day had been for
+me, slept soundly till morning.
+
+It was five minutes past nine when I entered the great salon of the hotel
+and looked round for Lord Langerdale.
+
+My search was not a long one. He was sitting alone at a table laid for
+three in one of the deep recesses, with a little pile of letters and a
+newspaper before him. Directly he saw me he pushed them away and held out
+his hand.
+
+"Good-morning!" he said pleasantly. "I'm glad to see you're so punctual.
+You're not in a hurry for breakfast for a few minutes, are you?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered, taking the chair which he pushed towards me.
+
+"That's right. My wife will be down in a quarter of an hour, and we'll
+wait for her, if you don't mind."
+
+I bowed my assent, murmuring that I should be delighted, which was
+perfectly true.
+
+Lord Langerdale turned a little round in his chair so as to face me and
+began at once:
+
+"I am rather a blunt sort of man, Mr. Morton--we Irish generally are, you
+know--and I like to go straight at a thing. Will you tell me your
+mother's maiden name?"
+
+"I would with pleasure if I knew it," I answered readily; "but I don't."
+
+"Is she alive?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"She died about nine months ago."
+
+"And Morton is your name? May I ask who your father was?"
+
+"Certainly. He was a farmer in Leicestershire."
+
+"A farmer?" Lord Langerdale looked surprised and I fancied a little
+disappointed. "Was he your mother's first husband?"
+
+I was about to answer in the affirmative, but remembered that I had no
+certain knowledge, so I corrected myself.
+
+"You may think it strange, Lord Langerdale," I said, "but I know nothing
+of my mother's antecedents, nor of her family. From my earliest
+recollection she never mentioned her past, nor permitted others to do so.
+There was some mystery connected with it, I am sure; but what it was I
+have no clue.
+
+"I could not help observing, as everyone else did, that she was far above
+my father from a social point of view, for she was an educated lady and
+he was only a small tenant farmer. Throughout all her life she was
+reticent, and her last act before she died was a paradox. She left me to
+the guardianship of the man whom she had always before seemed to dread
+and fear."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"Mr. Ravenor, of Ravenor Castle. We were tenants of his."
+
+"My God!"
+
+Lord Langerdale's whole appearance was that of a man strongly agitated.
+He turned his head away for a moment, and the long, white fingers which
+supported it were shaking visibly.
+
+I, too, was moved, for it seemed as though the time were come at last
+when something of my mother's history would be made known to me. But he
+seemed in no hurry to speak again. It was I who had to remind him of my
+presence.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," I cried, my voice, despite all my efforts, trembling
+with eagerness, "you know who my mother was? You can tell me her
+history?"
+
+He turned round slowly.
+
+"One more question," he said. "Are you sure that you were born at
+Ravenor?"
+
+"I have never heard otherwise," I told him. "But when I asked my mother
+once at which church I was christened, she could not tell me and forbade
+me to ask again."
+
+Lord Langerdale looked puzzled for a moment, and then asked me my age,
+which I told him.
+
+"Do you remember the time when news came of Mr. Ravenor, after he had
+been supposed to have been dead for so long?"
+
+"Yes. It is about my earliest distinct recollection," I answered.
+
+"Do you remember how your mother received the news?"
+
+Yes, I remembered. Even at that moment a vision rose up before me. I saw
+her standing beneath the ivy-covered porch of our farmhouse, her
+beautiful face ghastly with sudden pallor, and her wild eyes riveted upon
+my father's burly figure, as he shouted out the tidings. I described the
+scene to Lord Langerdale.
+
+"And afterwards did she ever mention Mr. Ravenor's name to you? Did she
+see anything of him?" he asked, when I had finished.
+
+Briefly I told him of her warnings, of my meeting with Mr. Ravenor, of
+his proposal to adopt me, and of my mother's death, and how at the end
+she suddenly turned round and left me to his guardianship. When I had
+finished he laid his hand upon my arm.
+
+"Let us go upstairs to my rooms," he said kindly. "If my wife were to
+come in now and learn the truth--and I'm a bad hand at keeping anything
+back from her--I'm afraid the shock would be too much for her. Come with
+me and I will tell you your mother's history."
+
+So I rose and followed him with beating heart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLVIII.
+                           A PAGE OF HISTORY.
+
+
+Lord Langerdale's suite of apartments was on the second floor, and when
+we reached them it was no small relief to me to find the room into which
+we turned empty. I sank mechanically into the chair to which he pointed,
+whilst he himself remained standing a few feet away from me.
+
+"From what you have told me," he said gravely, "I have not the least
+doubt but that my wife and your mother were sisters."
+
+I gave a little gasp and began to wonder whether this was not all a wild
+dream. Lord Langerdale remained silent, whilst I recovered myself in some
+measure.
+
+"Will you tell me about it?" I asked slowly. "I don't understand."
+
+"I will tell you everything," Lord Langerdale said kindly. "This is a
+great surprise to you, of course, and quite as great a one to me. Here is
+the story--or, rather, as much as I know of it."
+
+He cleared his throat and took a chair by my side. Everything else in the
+room except his face was blurred and indistinct, and his voice seemed to
+come to me from a long distance. But every word he uttered sank into my
+heart.
+
+"Your grandfather was a very poor and very proud English baronet--Sir
+Arthur Montavon. My wife Elsie and your mother were his only children,
+and they were twins. They were presented at Court together, created an
+equal sensation, and were at once allowed to be the beauties of the
+season. This was the time when I first knew them, so it is here that I
+begin my tale.
+
+"Six months after their appearance in Society, Elsie was engaged to be
+married to me. But your mother seemed to be more difficult to please. She
+refused several very good offers, and at the end of her first season she
+was still free.
+
+"I don't know exactly how or where she first met him," Lord Langerdale
+continued slowly; "but before the following spring your mother was
+betrothed to the Count de Cartienne. At that time he was one of the
+richest, the best-looking, and most popular men about town. There seemed
+to be nothing which he could not do, no art in which he was not
+proficient, and he was passionately in love with your mother. Whether she
+ever really cared for him I cannot tell; but if she did, it could only
+have been a very transitory feeling.
+
+"The marriage-day was fixed and was a general topic of conversation. I
+even believe that your mother had begun to prepare her trousseau, when
+something happened. Count de Cartienne was deposed from his post of chief
+favourite in Society, which he at one time held, by a younger and more
+extraordinary man. That man was----"
+
+"Mr. Ravenor!" I exclaimed.
+
+Lord Langerdale nodded.
+
+"I don't think," he went on, "that you can possibly imagine from the Mr.
+Ravenor of to-day what he was when he became the rage of London Society.
+He had just returned from his first journey in the East, after some
+perilous adventures, which had filled the columns of the newspapers for
+weeks and had already created a strong curiosity about him. I met him, I
+think, on the first evening he entered a London drawing-room, and I will
+never forget it.
+
+"He was as handsome as a Greek god, with limbs magnificently developed by
+his hardy, vigorous life and rigid asceticism, with the head of a Byron,
+the manners of a Grandison, and the fire and eloquence of a Burke, when
+he chose to open his mouth.
+
+"Men and women alike were fascinated, which was all the more remarkable
+as he sought no intimate amongst the former, and studiously avoided
+compromising himself with any of the latter, although, Heaven knows, he
+had no lack of opportunity. The only man with whom he seemed to be on at
+all friendly terms was de Cartienne; and the only woman to whom he paid
+any save the most ordinary attention was your mother."
+
+Lord Langerdale paused for several moments and seemed wrapped in a brown
+study, from which my impatience aroused him. He continued at once:
+
+"Things went on smoothly for a time, and then rumours began to get about.
+At first there were only faint whispers, but presently people began to
+talk openly. Count de Cartienne had better beware, they said, or he would
+lose his bride. At first he treated all such suggestions with contempt,
+but the time came when he was forced to consider them seriously.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor published a small volume of poems anonymously, amongst which
+were some passionate love-sonnets addressed to A. M. Everyone was talking
+of the book and wondering who the new poet was, when, through some
+treachery in the publisher's office, the secret leaked out, and everyone
+then knew that those thrilling love-songs were addressed to Alice
+Montavon.
+
+"de Cartienne went straight to Mr. Ravenor and demanded an explanation.
+Mr. Ravenor acknowledged the authorship of the poems, and did not deny
+that the verses in question were addressed to your mother; further than
+that he would not say a word, and simply referred de Cartienne to her.
+
+"He went straight to her, poor fellow! and was met with a piteous
+entreaty that he would release her from her engagement. She loved Mr.
+Ravenor and could marry no one else. What followed remains to some extent
+a secret; but this much we know:
+
+"There was a furious scene between de Cartienne and your mother, which
+ended in his refusing to give her up and threatening to shoot his rival
+if ever he saw them together again. Sir Arthur Montavon, who was deeply
+in de Cartienne's debt, swore that the marriage should take place, and
+apparently they gained their end, for Mr. Ravenor suddenly disappeared,
+and it was reported that he had left the country. On the very day before
+the wedding, however, Society was furnished with a still more sensational
+piece of scandal; your mother left her home secretly and the companion of
+her flight was Mr. Ravenor!"
+
+I could sit still no longer, but rose and walked up and down the room
+with quick, unsteady strides. Lord Langerdale watched me with a great and
+growing pity in his honest face. There was silence between us for several
+minutes, during which, after one keen, restless look of inquiry, I kept
+my face turned away from his. Then he continued his story in a somewhat
+lower key:
+
+"For two days de Cartienne was virtually a maniac. Then he seemed
+suddenly to come to his senses, and I think we all--Elsie and I
+especially--dreaded his terrible, set calmness more even than his
+previous fury. He made no wild threats, nor did he talk to anyone of his
+intentions. But we all knew what they were; and when he left London,
+secretly and alone, we trembled, for we knew that he was going in search
+of your mother. He needed no help, for he was himself a born detective,
+and possessed in a marvellous degree the art of disguising himself.
+
+"Every day we searched the newspapers anxiously, dreading lest we should
+read of the tragedy which we feared was inevitable. But we heard nothing.
+The weeks crept on into months and the months to years and still we heard
+nothing--not even from your mother.
+
+"We advertised, made every possible form of inquiry, but in vain. Then
+came the news of Mr. Ravenor's shipwreck and supposed death, and we
+concluded that your mother had perished with him. I accepted a foreign
+appointment, and only returned to England, after ten years' absence, last
+week. I heard at once of Mr. Ravenor's marvellous return to life and I
+wrote to him. The only reply I received was a single sentence:
+
+"'You can tell your wife that her sister is dead. I have no more to say.'
+
+"Only yesterday, to my amazement, I met de Cartienne again, and with him,
+you, who, I felt sure from the beginning, must be Alice's son. It may
+seem strange to you that I should know so much and yet know no more. But
+it is so."
+
+I turned round and faced him slowly.
+
+"Do you mean to say, then, that after her elopement my mother never once
+communicated with her father or sister?"
+
+"Only in this way. She left a private message for my wife, telling her
+through whom to forward a letter, but not disclosing her whereabouts. Sir
+Arthur Montavon intercepted the message and took advantage of it to write
+a cruel, stern letter, forbidding her ever to appear in his presence
+again, or to address him or her sister; and I am sorry to say that, at
+his command, my wife, too, wrote in a censorious vein, hoping to make up
+for it by sending another letter a few days afterwards. The first letter
+your mother received; the second missed her. She inherited a good deal of
+her father's firmness, almost severity, of disposition, and I have no
+doubt that the receipt of those letters would lead her to cut herself off
+altogether from her family."
+
+"Then you do not even know where she and Mr. Ravenor were married?" I
+asked huskily.
+
+Lord Langerdale shook his head, and I noticed that he failed to look me
+in the face. I braced myself up with a great effort.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," I said quietly, "this is a matter of life or death to
+me. You seem to avoid my question. Answer me this: Have you any reason to
+suppose that--that there was no marriage?"
+
+"None at all," he answered quickly. "But, my dear boy," he went on,
+coming over to my side and resting his hand upon my shoulder, "it is
+always as well to be prepared for the worst. I will tell you how it has
+seemed to me sometimes. Mr. Ravenor had very peculiar views with regard
+to marriage, something similar to those Shelley held in his youth, and we
+never heard of any ceremony, which seems strange. Then, too, their
+separation and your mother's marriage to a farmer, her stern, lonely life
+afterwards, and the fact that your birth has been kept concealed from
+you----"
+
+He hesitated and seemed to gather encouragement from my face. I could
+not, I would not, for a moment share his fear when I thought steadfastly
+about it. I thought of my mother dying, with a saint-like peace upon her
+face, in Mr. Ravenor's arms. I thought of the calm, sorrowful dignity of
+her life, and the idea refused for a moment to linger in my mind. Some
+other great cause for estrangement there must have been between them, but
+not that--not that!
+
+"I will go down and see Ravenor to-day," Lord Langerdale declared, with
+sudden energy. "I will wrest the truth from him."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"This matter lies between him and me only," I said, in a low tone. "I
+will go to him."
+
+The handle of the door was softly turned and Lady Langerdale stood upon
+the threshold. Her husband went over to her at once.
+
+"Elsie," he said, "you were right. There are many things which yet remain
+in darkness; but this is Alice's boy--your sister's son."
+
+She came up to me with outstretched hands and a wistful look in her
+sweet, womanly face.
+
+My heart stood still for a moment, and then gave a great throb as I felt
+the warm clasp of her hands and the tremulous touch of her lips upon my
+forehead.
+
+I knew that I had reached a crisis in my life, and though it had brought
+with it a great fear, it had also brought a great joy, for it seemed as
+though the days of my loneliness were over.
+
+Could I doubt it when I looked into Lady Langerdale's face and felt my
+uncle's warm hand-clasp? There was a sweetness about such a thought hard
+for another to realise, and for a moment I gave myself up to it. Whilst
+Lord Langerdale briefly told his wife the few particulars which I had
+been able to give him of my mother and myself, I stood between the two,
+keenly conscious of and enjoying the change which seemed hovering over my
+life.
+
+But afterwards I remembered the ordeal which I had yet to face and the
+mission which had brought me to London, and they saw the gladness die
+slowly out of my face.
+
+Lord Langerdale questioned me concerning it, and then I told them
+everything--told them of our suspicions in connection with Mr. Marx and
+of my determination to find him out, and discover whether he had been
+guilty of foul play towards the man Hart.
+
+When I came to my last night's adventure with Count de Cartienne, Lord
+Langerdale looked very grave.
+
+"It seems to me," he declared, "that this is more a matter for the police
+than for you to mix yourself up in."
+
+I shook my head. Of one thing I did feel confident, although, as regards
+the whole of the rest of the affair, I was in a complete maze.
+
+However anxious Mr. Ravenor might be for the truth concerning the missing
+man to be discovered, he had strong reasons for not wishing the police to
+take part in the search. I felt sure of that, and was determined to act
+accordingly.
+
+Lord Langerdale was not easily reassured.
+
+"I don't like the idea of your having anything whatever to do with de
+Cartienne in all the circumstances," he said, with a shudder. "He can
+have but one feeling for you, and a more dangerous man does not breathe.
+It is an evil chance that has brought you together."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIX.
+                            I WILL GO ALONE.
+
+
+We all sat down to breakfast together. Lord Langerdale divided his
+attention between his breakfast and _The Times_.
+
+"Are you going shopping to-day, Elsie?" he asked, looking up from his
+paper.
+
+She glanced at him inquiringly.
+
+"I think so. Why?"
+
+"Be very careful about your change, then. There has never been so much
+bad money about as just now. The papers are full of the most startling
+rumours. Coining must be going on in London somewhere upon an enormous
+scale, and the police are---- Why, Philip, what's the matter with you?"
+
+I recovered myself promptly and set down the cup which I had been within
+an ace of spilling.
+
+"The coffee was a little hot," I said slowly. "It was very stupid of me."
+
+He went on reading and Lady Langerdale began to talk to me. But my
+attention was wandering. It was a strange idea which had occurred to me,
+perhaps a ridiculous one. Yet it was possessed of a certain fascination.
+
+In the middle of breakfast a waiter brought me a note. Lady Langerdale's
+permission was given unasked and I tore it open. It was from de
+Cartienne, and the contents, though brief, were to the point:
+
+  "My dear Morton,--I have seen the man whom you are seeking and I know
+  for certain where he will be to-morrow night. My carriage shall call
+  for you at ten o'clock in the evening--to-morrow, mind; not this
+  evening--and if you care to come I will bring you to him. By the by,
+  you might as well bring with you the box which you were good enough to
+  take care of--Yours,
+
+                                                          "E. de C."
+
+I handed it to Lord Langerdale, who adjusted his glasses and read it
+through carefully.
+
+"I don't like it," he remarked, when he had finished; "don't like it at
+all. Take my advice, Philip; send him his box, or whatever it is, and
+don't go."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I must find out about Mr. Marx," I answered, "and I know of no other
+means. That will be to-morrow night, you know. To-day----"
+
+"Yes, what are we going to do to-day?" Lord Langerdale interrupted.
+
+I answered him without hesitation:
+
+"I am going down to Ravenor Castle."
+
+He looked surprised, a little agitated.
+
+"I shall go with you," Lord Langerdale suddenly declared. "Alice was my
+sister-in-law, and if Ravenor deserted or ill-used her, I have the right
+to call him to account for it."
+
+"And I a better one," I reminded him quietly. "Grant me this favour
+please. I must go alone and see him--alone."
+
+He looked at his wife and she inclined her head towards me.
+
+"The boy is right," she said softly. "It is his affair, not ours. It will
+be better for him to go alone."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER L.
+                           I MEET MY FATHER.
+
+
+After a wearying journey I stood at last before the great gates of the
+castle, the bell at my feet giving shrill notice of my presence. The
+lodge-keeper hurried out and welcomed me.
+
+I walked swiftly up the winding ascent, straight across the flagged
+courtyard and entered the castle by a side-door. Then, heedless of the
+surprised looks of the servants, I made my way to the library, and
+knocking softly at the door of the inner room, entered.
+
+At first it seemed to me that he was not there, for the chamber was in
+semi-darkness. The heavily-shaded lamp which stood upon the writing-table
+was turned down so low as to afford no light at all, and the fitful glow
+of the firelight left the greater part of the room in shadow. But as I
+stood upon the threshold a burning coal dropped upon the hearth, and by
+its flame I saw him leaning back in a high oak chair a few feet away.
+
+Softly I moved across the room towards him and then I saw that he was
+asleep.
+
+I made no movement, but somehow he seemed to become conscious of my
+presence and opened his eyes. They fell upon me standing on the
+hearth-rug before him, and he sat up with a start.
+
+"Philip!" he cried, "you here? You back? You have found him, then?"
+
+At the sound of his voice I trembled, yet I answered him at once:
+
+"Not yet. To-morrow night I shall see him. Till then I could do
+nothing--and I came here." He looked at my mud-bespattered boots and
+wind-tossed hair.
+
+"You have walked from Mellborough?" he asked. Then something in my face
+seemed to strike him, and, leaning forward, he placed his hands upon my
+shoulders and turned towards the glow of the fire.
+
+"You have come with a purpose!" he said slowly. "Tell me--you have heard
+something in London?"
+
+I bowed my head silently.
+
+"Some story of the past--my past?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My God!"
+
+Then there was silence between us. I bore it till I could bear it no
+longer.
+
+"Can you wonder that I have come?" I cried, my voice shaking with a
+passion which I knew no longer how to restrain. "Oh, speak to me! Tell me
+whether this thing is true?"
+
+"It is true."
+
+He had drawn back a little; he had hesitated. I caught hold of his hands
+and drew him towards me.
+
+"My father," I cried passionately, "speak to me! Why do you draw away? Is
+it because--because--oh, only speak to me, call me your son, and if there
+be anything to forgive I will forgive it."
+
+He seemed suddenly to abandon an unnatural struggle and caught me by the
+hands and clasped them. For a moment his face was radiant.
+
+"Philip, my son, my dear son!" he cried. "Thank God, it is not that!
+Thank God, that my name is yours! You are indeed my son."
+
+After a considerable silence my father told me how he had met Marx
+abroad. He had done him some service and they had become friendly. He
+latterly engaged him as secretary.
+
+Then he went on to tell me how Marx had met him on his return after his
+long absence and had taken him to see his wife, who believed him dead.
+
+He then told me how he had found her married again to Farmer Morton and
+implored her to come back to him. She refused, and he, in a blind fury,
+rushed back to where he had left Marx.
+
+He was attacked by Morton; a struggle ensued on the brink of the
+slate-pit. After a time my father managed to fling Morton from him and
+fled.
+
+That night Marx came to him and told him he had thrown Morton into the
+quarry, and that a man named Hart, _alias_ Francis, had witnessed the
+deed. My father wanted to confess, but Marx persuaded him to keep silent
+and paid Francis to bear the crime.
+
+"Now you know why I shrank from calling you my son, knowing that when the
+time came for you to be told of your parentage, I must also tell you that
+your father was a murderer!"
+
+"It is false!" I cried, springing up and seizing both his hands. "It was
+an accident. No one could call it a murder. Oh, my father, my father,
+that you should have suffered like this for so slight a cause!"
+
+A light leaped into his face and for a moment his wasted features and
+sunken eyes glowed and shone with a great, unexpected happiness. He drew
+me gently to him and laid his hands upon my shoulders.
+
+"Thank God for this, Philip!" he said, with trembling voice. "It is
+greater consolation than I ever dared hope for in this world."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LI.
+                                 DAWN.
+
+
+On the morrow as we walked out together, my father and I, making our way
+as though by common consent up towards the bare brown hills, I remembered
+that there were many things which I wished to say to him.
+
+"I want to ask you about Mr. Marx, father," I began. "Everything
+concerning him is so utterly mysterious, especially his going away so
+suddenly. Apart from the fear of his having used some sort of foul play
+towards Hart--or Francis--I can't help thinking that there is something
+else wrong with him. You trust him thoroughly, I suppose?" I added
+hesitatingly.
+
+"I have always done so," my father answered quietly.
+
+"Do you like the man himself?" I asked.
+
+My father shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+
+"I cannot say that he has ever aroused my feelings in any way," he
+answered. "He has had work to do for me and has done it well and
+silently. I have looked upon him somewhat as an automaton, although a
+valuable one. And yet----" he added musingly.
+
+"Yet what?" I interrupted.
+
+"Well, sometimes I have half fancied that he was playing a part, that his
+interest in our work was a little strained. He gave me the idea of a man
+working steadily forward towards a set purpose, and I have never seemed
+able to reconcile that purpose with the completion of our task. His
+sudden absences, too--for this is not the first of them,--are strange."
+
+"I should think so," I assented. "Has he taken anything away with him
+this time?" I asked bluntly.
+
+A very grave look came into my father's face and he did not answer me at
+once. When he did so his tone was low and anxious.
+
+"Yes, he has. About a fortnight ago we came to the end, virtually, of our
+long task. There was only a little revision wanted, which he was to have
+left for me. The night that he disappeared the manuscript disappeared
+also. Evidently he took it away with him."
+
+"Perhaps he has taken it to the publishers," I suggested. My father shook
+his head doubtfully.
+
+"Only this morning I have heard from them, begging me to forward it
+without delay," he said.
+
+I was silent. Even if he had taken the manuscript, what use could he make
+of it? How could it profit him?
+
+Suddenly I stood still in the path. My heart gave a great leap and a cry
+broke from my lips. For the first time an idea, the vague phantom of an
+idea, swept in upon me, carrying all before it, and casting a brilliant,
+lurid light upon all that seemed so dark and mysterious.
+
+"This man, Marx," I cried, seizing my father's arm. "Tell me quickly. Has
+he ever reminded you of anyone?"
+
+My father looked at me wonderingly.
+
+"It is strange that you should ask that," he said. "Sometimes, especially
+when I have come upon him alone, or have seen him excited, his tone and
+little mannerisms have seemed somehow vaguely familiar. And yet," he
+added thoughtfully, "I have never been able to recall of whom they have
+reminded me."
+
+I opened my trembling lips to speak, but a wave of cold doubt swept in
+upon me. Surely this thing could not be! I must be mad to let the idea
+linger for a moment in my mind. And yet----
+
+At that moment of my hesitation, my father's hand fell heavily upon my
+arm. He pointed forward along the dark avenue with a shaking finger. In
+the dim twilight we could see the tall gaunt figure of a man in ragged
+clothes, making his way up to the castle.
+
+"That is not one of my men, Philip," he said hoarsely. "Who is it?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"It is a stranger."
+
+My father turned abruptly from the avenue into a side-walk.
+
+"Follow me," he said; "we will go in by the private way."
+
+We walked across the turf, through a little iron gate, which my father
+unlocked, and entered the shrubbery walk.
+
+Once I looked round through an opening in the laurel leaves. The stranger
+was leaning wearily against the railings round the lodge, waiting for
+admittance.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LII.
+                           WHERE IS MR. MARX?
+
+
+Not until we had reached the Castle and were in the library did my father
+speak to me. Then his words were grave enough.
+
+"We have done Mr. Marx an injury, Philip," he said slowly.
+
+"How?" I asked.
+
+"Listen, and you will know."
+
+He went to the telephone and signalled. The answer came at once.
+
+"Someone has been asking for me at the gate," he said. "Who is it?"
+
+"A stranger, sir, to see you."
+
+"What name?"
+
+"Hart, sir."
+
+"Is he waiting?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I told him that it would be useless, but he refuses to go
+away."
+
+"You can pass him. Send him here at once."
+
+My father turned away and looked at me with all the old weariness in his
+face, but with little agitation. Of the two, I was the more nervous. I
+crossed the room and laid my hand gently upon his shoulder.
+
+"Thank God that I am here with you! What shall you say to him, father?
+What does he want, think you? Money?"
+
+My father shook his head sadly.
+
+"He would send if that were all. He has what he wants and that is not
+much. I fear that he wants something else."
+
+"What?"
+
+"His good name cleared."
+
+"He took the guilt willingly," I cried. "He must bear it now. He cannot
+escape from it."
+
+"He can," my father answered. "He can tell the truth."
+
+"No one would believe him. It would be his word against yours. What
+chance would he have?"
+
+My father turned a stern, dark face upon me.
+
+"So you think that I would swear to a lie, Philip? No! There was always
+this risk. I have felt that if ever he should demand to be set right with
+the world, it must be done."
+
+"It shall be done."
+
+We started, for the words came from the other side of the room. Standing
+in the deep shadows just inside the door was a tall, gaunt man, with long
+dishevelled beard and pale, ghastly face. His clothes were ragged and
+weather-stained and his boots were thick with mud. I looked towards him
+fascinated. It was the face of the lunatic who had twice attempted Mr.
+Marx's life. It was Hart, _alias_ Francis, the man who held in his hands
+a life dearer to me than my own.
+
+"Is it really you, Francis?" my father asked, in a shocked tone. "You are
+altered. You have been ill. Sit down."
+
+He took no notice. Whilst my father had been speaking his eyes had been
+wandering restlessly round the room.
+
+"Where is--he?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+"Do you mean Mr. Marx?" I said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is in London."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was an expression in his face partly of disappointment, partly of
+relief. He drew a long breath and remained silent, as though waiting to
+be questioned.
+
+"Do you want money?" my father asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you want to give up your secret, to let the world know the truth?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+A cry burst from my lips, but my father checked me.
+
+"It is well," he said. "Sit down. You need not fear; I will confess."
+
+"You have nothing to confess. It is I who must do that."
+
+"What do you mean?" my father asked, peering forward into the darkness,
+for there was no lamp lit in the room. "Come nearer; I cannot see your
+face."
+
+With trembling fingers I drew up the blind from the high window. The
+moon, which had just emerged from a bank of black, flying clouds, cast a
+long stream of light across the room.
+
+Francis moved forward with slow, reluctant steps. Then, with a sudden,
+wild cry, he threw himself upon his knees before my father.
+
+"As God in Heaven forgives, swear that you will forgive me!" he cried
+passionately.
+
+"Forgive! I have nothing to forgive," my father answered gently. "You
+wish to lay down your burden. Good! I am ready to take it up."
+
+He stooped forward in his chair and stretched out his hand to the man to
+help him rise. In his altered position the moonlight seemed to cast a
+sort of halo round his face, and it seemed to me like the face of an
+angel.
+
+"Don't touch me," cried the man; "don't. I can't bear it! Let me tell you
+the truth, or I shall die. You think that you killed Farmer Morton. It's
+false! Mr. Marx killed him."
+
+"What!"
+
+My father had sprung to his feet. Somehow, I found myself by his side.
+Francis still grovelled on the floor.
+
+"Up, man, and tell me all the truth," my father cried out in a voice of
+thunder; "up on your feet and speak like a man."
+
+He obeyed at once, trembling in every limb. Then he faltered out his
+story:
+
+"I was in the wood that night. It was dark; I lost my way. Suddenly I
+heard voices--yours and Morton's. You were struggling within a few feet
+of me. Before I could interfere you had thrown him down and rushed away.
+I heard him breathing hard, and I saw Mr. Marx steal out from behind a
+tree and creep up to him. Morton heard, too, and sprang up. They
+struggled together; perhaps in the darkness, Morton mistook him for you.
+I remembered the quarry and rushed out. I was too late.
+
+"There was a fearful flash of lightning and I saw Marx put forth all his
+strength and throw the other into the slate-pit. He turned round and saw
+me.
+
+"He would have hurled me over, too, if he had dared, but I was strong and
+he was exhausted. So he offered me money to go away. I accepted, never
+thinking that they would fix the crime upon me. Marx had thought it all
+out with a devilish cunning. He provided me with disguises and told me
+where to go to and how to get there. When I was safe away and read the
+papers, I saw at once how I had been trapped. I had pleaded guilty to the
+murder.
+
+"Time went on and I grew more miserable every day. Marx sent me plenty of
+money--too much. I began to drink. I was ill. When I recovered I wrote to
+tell him that I could bear it no longer and that I was coming to see him.
+I told him that I meant to go to a magistrate after I had given him time
+to get out of the country. He dared me to come to the Castle. Still, I
+came. It was dusk when I got here. He met me in the avenue. He offered me
+large sums of money to go away, but I was determined and refused
+everything. It was then from something he let fall in his anger that I
+knew how he had been deceiving you. Then I would not listen to him any
+more and bade him stand out of the way. He let me pass him and then
+struck me on the back of the head with some heavy weapon."
+
+"My God!" I cried. "I was close to you. I heard you cry and I met Mr.
+Marx directly afterwards. He must have thrown you down the gravel-pit."
+
+"It was there I found myself when I came to my senses," Francis
+continued. "Directly I sat up and tried to think over what had happened I
+began to feel my head swim. After that everything is blurred and dim in
+my mind. I fled. The second time, you, Mr. Morton, saved his life from
+me, as my fingers were closing upon his throat.
+
+"They put me in an asylum. Afterwards Mr. Marx passed himself off as my
+brother and had me moved into a private one. The commissioners came and I
+appeared before them. I was sane. They let me go. Where is Mr. Marx?
+Where is Mr. Marx?"
+
+There was a deep silence. Then I held out my hand to my father and he
+clasped it.
+
+"Thank God!" I cried, my voice quivering with a great sob--"thank God!"
+
+"Amen," my father repeated softly.
+
+Again that question, in the same dry, hard tone.
+
+"Where is Mr. Marx?"
+
+We looked at him--at his nervously twitching hands and burning eyes. The
+madness was upon him again. We must not let him go. My father drew me on
+one side.
+
+"I shall go to London with you to-night," he said. "What shall we do with
+this man?"
+
+"He must stay here," I answered. "Leave it to me."
+
+I went up to him and laid my hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Listen, Francis," I said. "There are two places where Mr. Marx is likely
+to be this week. One is in London, the other here. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes," he answered; "I understand."
+
+"Now, Mr. Ravenor and I know best where to find him in London, but we
+can't leave unless we know that there is someone on the look-out here as
+well. If we go to London, will you remain here and watch for him?"
+
+The man's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Yes," he answered quickly. "This is the room where he writes, isn't it?
+He will come here. Yes, I will wait; I will watch here in this room."
+
+My father rang a bell and ordered a carriage to take us to the station.
+Then he gave special orders about Francis. He was to be allowed to remain
+in the library, to use Mr. Ravenor's own sleeping apartment, and to have
+meals brought to him regularly.
+
+An hour later we left the castle for Torchester. As we drove across the
+courtyard we could see a pale, gaunt figure standing at the library
+window, silent and rigid. It was Francis, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIII.
+                       MESSRS. HIGGENSON AND CO.
+
+
+At ten o'clock we reached St. Pancras, travelling by fast train from
+Torchester, and half an hour later a hansom put us down at the Hotel
+Metropole. Immediately in front of the entrance Count de Cartienne's
+small brougham was waiting, and as we descended from the cab his servant
+stepped forward and handed me a note. I tore it open and read it under
+the gas-lamp.
+
+"Come to me at once and you will find Mr. M----. Bring the box with
+you.--C----."
+
+I passed the note on to my father and drew him a little on one side. At
+the sight of the handwriting he started.
+
+"Philip, whose writing is this?" he asked quickly.
+
+"The writing of the man who alone knows where Marx is," I answered. "It
+is he who calls for his letters and forwards them."
+
+"His name? I insist upon knowing his name."
+
+"de Cartienne."
+
+My father's face turned a shade paler and his eyebrows contracted.
+
+"You have been keeping this from me, Philip. You shall not go near that
+man. I forbid it. My God! Marx and de Cartienne friends!"
+
+He stopped short on the pavement and looked at me with a new light in his
+face. He began to understand.
+
+"Marx and de Cartienne," he repeated slowly. "Philip, cannot you see what
+this means? Marx has been de Cartienne's tool and I have been their
+victim. Where is de Cartienne? Philip, you shall tell me! Do you hear?"
+
+My father seized my arm and held it fast. I turned and faced him.
+
+"Father, you must leave this to me," I said, firmly. "I have thought it
+all over in the train and my plans are made. You will trust me?"
+
+"Tell me what they are," he said.
+
+"I have in my possession a box belonging to de Cartienne, which contains
+a secret. Until I yield that box up to him I am safe, since he can only
+get it from me. You see that he tells me in this note to bring it with
+me."
+
+"Yes. Go on."
+
+"Well, I am going without the box, and if he is really ignorant of who I
+am and willing to give me the information about Marx, why, then I can
+easily come back for it, and whatever it contains he must have unopened.
+
+"If, on the other hand, I fall into any sort of trap and he makes me send
+for it, then, immediately on receipt of my message, no matter how it is
+couched, you must force the box open, and if it contains anything in the
+least suspicious, come straight to my aid with the police. The messenger
+who comes for the box must be bribed or frightened into bringing you."
+
+"I do not like it, Philip. It is all too roundabout. If de Cartienne has
+any idea who you are, you are running a risk."
+
+"I don't think so," I answered. "Until he gets possession of that box he
+will feel himself, to a certain extent, in my hands and will not be
+likely to do me an injury."
+
+"What do you suppose the box contains?"
+
+I hesitated and looked around. de Cartienne's servant was some distance
+off and there was no one within hearing.
+
+"Have you read the newspapers just lately?" I asked.
+
+My father shook his head.
+
+"Only the literary newspapers."
+
+I bought a special edition, which a newsboy was brandishing in our faces,
+and, turning down the leading article, passed it on to my father. He
+glanced down at it and then looked up at me in blank amazement.
+
+"Philip, you cannot mean this!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?" I answered. "I do, indeed; but whether there is anything in it
+or not we shall soon know. I must go now. You understand what to do if I
+send for the box."
+
+"I don't like your expedition at all," he said, doubtfully. "Have you any
+idea where you are going?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"None; but I shall come to no harm. My star is in the ascendant now. If
+it leads me into danger it will bring me safely out of it. _Au revoir!_"
+
+Then I sprang into the carriage and was driven swiftly away.
+
+Our journey came to a sudden end, and, if I was surprised at the locality
+into which it had brought me, I was still more so at its termination. The
+carriage had stopped outside a gloomy-looking warehouse, the back of
+which, ornamented with several cranes, overlooked the river. The whole of
+the front appeared to be in darkness, but from a gas-lamp on the other
+side of the narrow way I could read the brass sign-plate by the side of
+the door:
+
+                           HIGGENSON AND CO.
+                        Merchants and Exporters.
+
+The door of the carriage was thrown open and I was evidently expected to
+descend. I did so after a moment's hesitation.
+
+"Are you sure that you have brought me to the right place?" I asked the
+man who held the door open. "This seems to be a warehouse. I think there
+must be some mistake."
+
+The man silently closed the carriage door and stepped up to his seat
+beside the driver.
+
+"There is no mistake," he said curtly. "You will find the Count de
+Cartienne--there."
+
+He pointed to the warehouse door and I saw that it was now open and that
+a man was standing upon the threshold. I turned towards him doubtfully.
+
+"Will you come this way, Mr. Morton?" he said. "Count de Cartienne is
+sorry to have to bring you here, but we are busy--very busy, and he had
+no time to get back to the hotel. The carriage will wait to take you
+back."
+
+The man's manner and tone were certainly not those of a servant, but from
+the position in which he stood I could see nothing save the bare outline
+of his figure. I crossed the pavement towards him.
+
+We left the room and he conducted me down a passage and into a small
+chamber. Here my companion paused and lit a lamp which stood on a table
+in the middle of the room.
+
+"Count de Cartienne will be with you in a moment," he said, walking to
+the door. "Kindly excuse me."
+
+I turned the lamp a little higher and looked around. The room was quite a
+small one and plainly furnished as a waiting-room.
+
+For the first time I began to realise fully what I had done in coming to
+this place at such an hour. Some wild thoughts of a tardy retreat flashed
+into my mind, and I tried the handle of the door by which we had entered.
+It turned, but the door remained closed. I stooped down and examined it.
+The result was as I had feared--a spring lock had fastened it. I tried
+the other door, by which my guide had issued. The result was the same. I
+was a prisoner.
+
+I had scarcely time to realise my position before it became necessary to
+act. The door was suddenly opened and Count de Cartienne stood before me,
+his eyes flashing with anger and his tall, lithe frame quivering with
+rage.
+
+"Why have you not brought that box?" he exclaimed in a low, fierce tone.
+
+I stood up facing him, with my back to the table, striving to keep calm,
+for the situation was critical. The complete change in his appearance and
+manner towards me was sufficient warning.
+
+"The box is safe enough," I answered. "You can have it in an hour's time.
+But----"
+
+"But what?" he interrupted, savagely. "Why have you not brought it, as I
+bade you in my note? Why is it not here? We want it at once!"
+
+"You forget that there is a _quid pro quo_ which I expect from you. It
+seems to me, Count de Cartienne, that you are making a tool of me,
+and----"
+
+"What is it you want--to see this man Marx?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, he is not here."
+
+I checked the rejoinder which, had I spoken it, would probably have cost
+me my life.
+
+"Where is he, then?" I asked.
+
+"I will tell you when you have written for that box," he said, opening a
+drawer and placing pen and paper upon the table.
+
+I shook my head. "There is no need for me to write. It is of no use my
+remaining if Mr. Marx is not here. Send your servant back with me and I
+will give it him."
+
+"No, I shall hold you as a hostage for the box. Besides, I have a few
+words to say to you, boy," he added grimly. "Write."
+
+I hesitated, but only for a moment.
+
+"Do I understand that you detain me here against my will?" I said,
+slowly.
+
+"Understand anything you please, but write."
+
+I took up the pen without another word. When I had finished the note he
+took it from me and read it through. Then he glanced at the address and
+started.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor! Oh, Mr. Ravenor is in London, is he?" he remarked slowly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+He looked away with the ghost of an evil smile upon his lips.
+
+"Ravenor in London! How strange. He and I are old acquaintances. I must
+call on him," he added mockingly.
+
+He stood still for a moment and then left the room abruptly with the note
+in his hand. I tried to follow him, but the door closed too quickly. If I
+could have seen any means of escape I should have made use of them, for I
+had gained the knowledge which I had come to seek, and I knew that I was
+in danger. There was only that solitary window looking out upon the river
+and the closed door. If this man meant mischief, I was securely in his
+power.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LIV.
+                                A RAID.
+
+
+In a few minutes Count de Cartienne returned:
+
+He flashed a sudden keen glance at me.
+
+"I wonder if you have any idea as to the contents of that box," he said,
+keeping his eyes fixed curiously upon me.
+
+Looking back now, I see clearly that I was guilty of the grossest folly
+in answering as I did. But I was young, impetuous, conscious of great
+physical strength, and with all that contempt of danger which such
+consciousness brings. So, without hesitation, I drew from my pocket the
+evening paper which I had bought in Northumberland Avenue, and laid my
+finger upon the column which I had shown my father.
+
+"This may have something to do with it," I remarked.
+
+His face grew a shade paler as he glanced it through. Then he folded it
+up and handed it back to me with a polite gesture.
+
+"So that is your idea, is it?" he remarked. "Why didn't you go to
+Scotland Yard and tell them of your suspicions?"
+
+I felt that he was watching me keenly and made a great effort to remain
+composed, although my pulses were beating fast and I felt my colour
+rising.
+
+"It was no business of mine," I answered. "Besides, if I had done so I
+should have lost my chance of finding out anything about Mr. Marx from
+you."
+
+"Your reasoning does you infinite credit," he answered, with a slight
+sneer. "You are quite a Machiavelli. Come; I want to show you over
+my--warehouse."
+
+I followed him reluctantly, for I liked his manner less and less; but I
+had scarcely an alternative.
+
+We passed along a narrow passage and through several rooms piled up to
+the ceiling with huge bales; then we descended a winding flight of iron
+steps, and as we reached the bottom I began to hear a faint hum of voices
+and strange, muffled sounds.
+
+He unlocked a small, hidden door before us, and we stood on the threshold
+of a large, dimly-lit cellar.
+
+One swift glance around showed me the truth of my vague suspicions, and
+warned me, too, of my peril. It was a weird sight. At the far end of the
+place a small furnace was burning, casting a vivid glow upon the white,
+startled faces of the men who were grouped around it. One held in his
+hand a great ladlefull of hissing liquid, and another on his knees was
+holding steady the mould which was to receive it. But though they kept
+their positions unchanged, they thought no more of their tasks. The
+attention of one and all was bent upon me in horror-struck amazement.
+
+The man who first recovered himself sufficiently to be able to frame an
+articulate sentence was the man holding the ladle.
+
+"Are you mad, de Cartienne?" he hissed out. "What have you brought that
+young cub down here for?"
+
+"I have brought him here," he answered, with a shade of contempt in his
+tone at the alarm which they were all showing, "because he is safer here
+than anywhere else--for the present.
+
+"Somehow or other--probably by looking inside that unfortunate box--this
+young cub, as you call him, knows our secret. To let him go would, of
+course, be absurd, so I've brought him here to be tried for his
+unpardonable curiosity. What shall we do with him? I propose that we
+throw him into the river."
+
+I moved a little farther back towards the door, listening with strained
+ears and bated breath, for I fancied that I heard a faint sound of voices
+and footsteps above. Apparently the others had heard it, too, for there
+was a death-like silence for a few moments. Then spoke the Count.
+
+"That must be Drummond with the box. Will you go and see, Ferrier?"
+
+There was the trampling of many feet outside, and then a sudden swift
+torrent of blows upon the closed door.
+
+In an instant all was wild confusion. Count de Cartienne was the only one
+who was not panic-stricken.
+
+"The game is up," he cried fiercely, "and here is the traitor."
+
+Like lightning he stooped down and I saw something in his hand flash
+before my eyes. There was a strange burning pain and then everything
+faded away before my sight. I heard the door beaten down and the sound of
+my rescuers streaming in. Then all sound became concentrated in a
+confused roar, which throbbed for a moment in my ears and then died away.
+Unconsciousness crept in upon me.
+
+When I opened my eyes again I found myself lying upon a bed in a strange
+room. By my side was my father, leaning back in a low, easy chair.
+
+"Where am I?" I asked. "How long have I been here! Tell me all about it."
+
+My father stood up with a little exclamation of relief.
+
+"Better, Philip? That is well. You are at the nearest decent hotel we
+could find last night, or rather this morning."
+
+"Tell me all about it," I cried.
+
+"Everyone was taken except de Cartienne. He fought like a tiger and got
+off. But it is only for a while. He will be caught. His description----"
+
+"His description will be of no use at all," I interrupted, breathlessly.
+"Has anything been heard of Mr. Marx?"
+
+My father picked up an open telegram from the table by his side.
+
+"Mr. Marx has gone back to Ravenor. This telegram is from the
+stationmaster at Mellborough."
+
+I leapt from the bed and plunged my still aching head into a basin of
+water.
+
+"What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill again if you excite
+yourself," my father said wondering.
+
+"I'm all right," I answered. "What is the time?"
+
+"Four o'clock."
+
+"Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o'clock train to Mellborough,"
+I urged.
+
+"To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?"
+
+"de Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is Marx we want."
+
+Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he sprang to his feet with a
+low cry.
+
+"Philip, why did you not tell me before?"
+
+"I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I kept it to myself. He
+thinks himself safe as Mr. Marx--safer than flying the country as the
+Count de Cartienne--the villain!"
+
+Suddenly my father stopped short on his way to the door.
+
+"Philip," he said hoarsely, "do you remember whom we left at Ravenor
+waiting for Mr. Marx?"
+
+For the moment I had forgotten it. We looked at one another and there
+crept into my mind the vision of a gaunt, desperate man, his white face
+and burning eyes filled with an unutterable fiendish longing. The same
+thought filled us both. If Mr. Marx made use of his private keys and went
+straight to the library at the castle, what would come of it?
+
+I laid my hand upon my father's arm.
+
+"There is justice in the world after all," I said hoarsely. "That man
+will kill him."
+
+Then we went out together without another word.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LV.
+                        THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.
+
+
+It was twenty minutes to eight when we arrived at Mellborough, and, as we
+had not sent word on, there was no carriage to meet us, nor, as it
+happened, any spare vehicle. After a brief word or two with the
+stationmaster, we decided to walk down into the town and order a fly.
+
+When we reached the house, the butler stepped forward, his ruddy face
+blanched and his voice shaking.
+
+"Thank God you are come, sir! The man you left here, he's gone a raving
+lunatic, and he's shut himself up there, and got your revolvers out, and
+swears that no one shall enter the room till you come."
+
+"There's someone with him," my father said quickly.
+
+The man's face seemed literally shrunken up with horror.
+
+"It's awful, sir; I've been near once, and I'll never get over it as long
+as I live. He's got some poor wretch there, killing him by inches,
+torturing him like a cat does a mouse. He's been shrieking for help for
+hours, and we can do nothing. The poor creature must be nearly dead now.
+Ah, there it is again, sir! Four of our men have been shot trying to get
+to him. Listen! Oh, why does he not die!"
+
+A low, faint cry, full of a most heart-stirring anguish, floated out from
+the library window. It was the most awful sound I have ever heard in my
+life. Following close upon it, drowning its faint echo, came the loud
+mocking laugh of the torturer, ringing out harsh and mirthless in hideous
+contrast.
+
+A deep, audible shudder passed through the little group of bystanders.
+Then my father, without a word, started forward across the lawn towards
+the window and I followed close behind. It seemed to me that everyone
+must be holding their breath, the silence was so intense. The wind had
+dropped for a moment, and the moon shone faintly down through a cloud of
+mist upon the white, eager faces, filled now with a new anxiety.
+
+A few swift steps brought us to the window. A lamp was burning upon the
+writing-table and the interior of the room was clearly visible. On the
+floor a little distance from the window was a dark shape which, as we
+drew nearer, we could see to be the prostrate figure of a man. Walking up
+and down in front of it, with short, uneven steps, was Francis, his hair
+and dress in wild disorder and his whole appearance betokening that he
+had recently been engaged in a desperate struggle.
+
+Suddenly he turned round and saw us. With a wild cry of rage he rushed to
+the window, the glass of which was completely wrecked, and glared at us
+threateningly through the framework.
+
+"Away! away!" he shrieked, "or there will be more trouble! I must stay
+here, I must wait till he comes! Let me be, I tell you!"
+
+The revolver, which he clenched in his right hand, was raised and
+levelled. It was a dreadful moment.
+
+"It is I, Mr. Ravenor," my father answered calmly. "Don't you know me,
+Francis?"
+
+Again the moon broke through the clouds and shone with a faint light upon
+my father's pale, stern face. Francis recognised him at once. He threw
+his hands high over his head in a wild gesture of welcome and flung open
+the window. My father walked steadily forward into the room and I
+followed him. Francis, trembling with eagerness, stood between us.
+
+"See," he cried, pointing downwards, "is it not well done? See! Let me
+tell you about it. Quick! quick! He came! It was twilight! He was at the
+cabinet there. I stole out of the darkness. I flung my arms around him.
+He struggled. Ah, how he struggled; but it was all no use. Ha! ha! ha! I
+was too strong for him. I held him tighter and tighter, till I nearly
+strangled him, and he gasped and gurgled and moaned. Oh! it was fine to
+see him. Then I found a cord in the drawer there and I bound him, and
+while I fastened the knots I laughed and I talked to him. I talked about
+that night in the storm when he threw his father"--he pointed a long,
+quivering finger at me--"threw him into the slate quarry, and about that
+day when he came to the Castle gate and brought me to the plantation, and
+suddenly caught me by the throat till he thought he had strangled me, and
+beat me on the head. Ah, how my head has burned ever since, ever since,
+ever since! Ah, Milly, come to me! Milly, I am on fire! My head is on
+fire! Ah, ah!"
+
+The foam burst out from between his pallid, quivering lips, and his eyes,
+red and burning, suddenly closed. A ghastly change crept over his
+blood-stained, pallid face. He sank backwards and fell heavily upon the
+floor.
+
+We scarcely noticed him, for our eyes were bent elsewhere. The horror of
+that sight lived with me afterwards for many years, a haunting shadow
+over my life--disturbing even its sweetest moments, a hideous, maddening
+memory. I am not going to attempt to describe it. No words could express
+the horror of it. Such things are not to be written about.
+
+Even my father's iron nerve seemed to give way for a moment, and he stood
+by my side trembling, with his head buried in his hands. Then he sank on
+his knees and loosened the cords.
+
+"Thank God he is dead," he murmured fervently, as he felt the cold body
+and lifeless pulse, and cleared away the last fragments of disguise from
+the head and face. "You had better call Mr. Carrol in, Philip."
+
+Even as he spoke, a little awed group was silently filling the room,
+Carrol and his sergeant amongst them. But after all they were cheated of
+their task, for out in the moonlight John Francis lay stark, the madness
+gone from his white, still face, and the calm of death reigning there
+instead.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LVI.
+                             THE END OF IT.
+
+
+We were together, my father and I, under the shade of a little cluster of
+olive trees high up among the mountains. Far away below us the Campagna
+stretched to the foot of the dim hills steeped in blue which surround the
+Eternal City, towards which we had been gazing in a silence which had
+been for long unbroken. It was I at last who spoke, pointing downwards to
+where the bare grey stone walls of a small monastic building rose with
+almost startling abruptness from a narrow ledge of sward overhanging the
+precipice.
+
+"Is this to be the end, then, father?" I cried bitterly; "this
+prison-house?"
+
+He turned towards me with a look upon his face which I had grown to
+hate--a look calm and gentle enough, but full of resolution as unchanging
+as the mountains which towered above us.
+
+"It must be so, Philip," he said, quietly. "Is it well, think you, that I
+should return again into the life which I am weary of, when all that I
+desire lies here ready to my hand? Peace and rest--I want nothing more."
+
+"And why cannot you find them in England--at Ravenor with me?" I cried
+eagerly. "And your work, too--it could be done again. We would live alone
+there and bury ourselves from the world and everyone in it. I could help
+you. I could be your amanuensis. I should like that better than anything.
+Remember how all the papers lamented the cruel destruction of your
+manuscripts, and how everyone hoped that you would rewrite them. Oh, you
+must not do this thing, father--you must not! You have no right to cut
+yourself off from the world--no right!" I re-echoed passionately.
+
+He shook his head slowly, but alas! with no sign of yielding.
+
+"Philip," he said quietly, "it troubles me to hear you plead like this in
+vain, for so it must ever be. I am happy now; happy in the recollection
+of the time we have spent together. Happy, too, in the thought that I can
+end my days in peace, with no disturbing ghosts of the past to rise up
+and haunt me!"
+
+I was silent and kept my face turned away towards the mountains, for I
+would not have had him see my weakness. Soon he spoke again, and this
+time there was a vein of sadness in his tone.
+
+"The time has come for us to part for awhile, Philip. There is one thing
+more which I would say to you. It concerns Cecil."
+
+"Cecil?" I echoed vaguely.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All his life he has been brought up to consider himself my heir. Now, of
+course, things will be very different with him. He is weak and easily
+led. I should like to think that you were friends; and if you have an
+opportunity of helping him in any way you will not neglect it."
+
+"I will not," I promised. "Cecil and I will always be friends."
+
+We descended the steep hillside path and stood together almost on the
+threshold of the little monastery. Then my father held out his hand to
+me, and a soft, sweet light shone for a moment in his dark blue eyes.
+
+"Farewell, Philip," he said--"farewell. God bless you." And while I was
+returning the grasp of his closed fingers and struggling to keep down a
+rising lump in my throat, he passed away from me silently, like a figure
+in a dream, and the thick, nail-studded door opened and was closed behind
+him.
+
+Then I set my face towards Rome, with blurred eyesight and a bitter sense
+of loss at my heart. I was going back to England to take possession of a
+great inheritance, but there was no joy in the thought, only an
+unutterable, intolerable loneliness which weighed down my heart and
+spirits and filled me with deep depression.
+
+Cecil met me in London, and we went to Ravenor together. It was a strange
+sensation to me to enter the Castle as its virtual owner, to wander from
+room to room, from gallery to gallery, and know that it was all mine, and
+that the long line of Ravenors who frowned and smiled upon me from their
+dark, worm-eaten frames were my ancestors. At first it seemed
+pleasant--pleasant, at least, in a measure,--but when I stood in the
+library and passed on into that little chamber the memories connected
+with them swept in upon me with such irresistible force that I was glad
+to send Cecil away for a while.
+
+For some time I lived quite alone, save for Cecil's frequent visits,
+keeping aloof from the people who lived near, and making but few
+acquaintances. The days I spent either on horseback or with my gun, or
+often tramping many miles over the open country with a book in my pocket,
+after the fashion of the days of my boyhood. The nights I had no
+difficulty about whatever. With such a library as my father's to help me,
+my love of reading became almost a part of myself.
+
+There was one person who viewed this change with profound
+dissatisfaction, and who at last broke into open protest.
+
+"I say, Phil, you know it won't do," Cecil declared one night, when I had
+tried to steal away into the library on some pretext. "A young fellow of
+your age, with eighty thousand a year, has no business to shut himself up
+with a lot of musty books and dream away his time like an old hermit.
+People are asking about you everywhere, and I'm getting tired of
+explaining what a rum sort of chap you are. It won't do, really."
+
+"Well," I answered, "what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to come back to town with me and put up with my people a bit.
+The mater is very keen about it; in fact, she says that she shall come
+down here in the autumn if you don't come."
+
+I leaned back in my chair and a day-dream rose up before me.
+
+"What is your sister like now, Cis?" I asked suddenly.
+
+"Trixie! Oh, she's turned out pretty well, I think!" he answered
+complacently. "What friends you two used to be, by the by!"
+
+We said no more about the matter then, but on the following morning I
+received two letters, one from Lady Silchester and the other from Lord
+Langerdale, both urging me to pay at least a short visit to London and
+perform social duties, which naturally seemed of more importance to them
+than to me. I read them through carefully and made up my mind at once.
+But Lord Langerdale's letter had stirred up some old memories, and I did
+not tell Cecil my decision immediately.
+
+"You are about town a good deal, Cecil. Do you ever see anything of
+Leonard de Cartienne?" I asked.
+
+Cecil shook his head.
+
+"No, nor am I ever likely to," he answered. "I have heard of him, though,
+by a strange fluke."
+
+"What is he doing?"
+
+"Got a commission in the Turkish army. Queer thing I heard the other day
+from a man I used to know very well once. He's secretary at the Embassy
+now at Constantinople, and he asked me whether I ever came across him.
+Seems he isn't particularly popular out there."
+
+"He's a bad lot," I remarked.
+
+"Jolly sure of it," Cecil assented. "No one but a blackguard would have
+behaved as he did to poor little Milly. But about London, Phil?"
+
+"I will go," I said. "If you like we will leave here to-morrow."
+
+Lady Silchester received us very kindly, and Beatrice, though full of the
+distractions of her first season, seemed even better pleased to see us.
+It was strange how much I found in the tall slim girl, whom everyone was
+quoting as the beauty of the season, to remind me of the quaint,
+old-fashioned child whose imperious manner and naïve talk had so charmed
+me a few years ago. There were the same wealth of ruddy golden hair, the
+same delicate features, and the same dainty little mannerisms. Everyone
+admired Lady Beatrice, and so did I.
+
+My stay in London lasted till the end of the season. I made my orthodox
+_début_ into Society under the wing of Lord Langerdale, and divided my
+time pretty well between my aunt and uncle and the house in Cadogan
+Square. When at last it was all over, Lord and Lady Langerdale, Lady
+Silchester, Cecil, and Beatrice returned to Ravenor as my guests.
+
+I am not writing a love story. I cannot trace the growth of my love for
+Beatrice, for it seemed to come upon me with a rush; and yet, when I
+wondered how it came, it seemed to me that it must have been always so.
+Those long summer days at Ravenor were the sweetest I had ever known. I
+lost all count of time. Hours and days and weeks seemed all blended in an
+exquisite dream, from which, unlike all others, the awakening was at once
+the culmination and the happiest part. For one night we came back hand in
+hand from wandering about on the terraces under a starlit sky, and a
+great joy was gliding through my veins and throbbing in my heart.
+
+Need I say what had happened? Beatrice was mine, my own, and I was very
+happy.
+
+"Come to me when you are married--both of you," was my father's message;
+and we went, Alas, for the cloud which so soon dimmed our newborn
+happiness! We arrived in time--only just in time--to stand by his
+death-bed.
+
+How the scene comes back to me! The door and windows of his little
+chamber were thrown wide open and the soft, languorous breeze, heavy with
+the odour of wild flowers, stole in and played upon his wasted face.
+
+What a countenance it was! Passion-scarred, yet chastened and softened by
+keen physical pain; the burning blue eyes fixed steadily, yet with a
+sweet, steadfast light, upon the dim horizon--beautiful after the highest
+type of spiritual beauty. Twilight stole down from the hills, and then we
+gently folded his arms upon his breast, and the watchers outside, knowing
+well what such an action meant, wiped the tears from their eyes and
+slowly wended their way homewards.
+
+Then, later, the solemn chant of the monks in pious procession broke the
+stillness of the mountain night. But such a death was scarcely death. At
+least, it was death robbed of all its terrors; unutterably sad, yet
+unutterably sweet. There was truth beyond expression in the simple words
+rudely carved upon the wooden cross which, amid a score or two of others
+in a sheltered nook down in the valley, stands at the foot of his narrow
+grave--
+
+                    "He Sought Peace, and Found It."
+
+So may it be with us!
+
+
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+
+Obvious typographical errors in spelling and punctuation were
+corrected without comment.
+
+Capitalization of the name "de Cartienne" was made consistent.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. MARX'S SECRET***
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Marx's Secret, by E. Phillips Oppenheim,
+Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Mr. Marx's Secret</p>
+<p>Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim</p>
+<p>Release Date: February 29, 2012  [eBook #39018]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. MARX'S SECRET***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by<br />
+    Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div id="cover" class="img">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Mr. Marx&rsquo;s Secret" width="510" height="718" />
+</div>
+<div class="box">
+<h1>MR. MARX&rsquo;S
+<br />SECRET</h1>
+<p class="center"><span class="small">BY</span>
+<br />E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</p>
+<p class="center"><i>Author of &ldquo;Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Double Traitor,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;The Illustrious Prince,&rdquo; etc.</i></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="smaller">WITH FRONTISPIECE BY</span>
+<br /><span class="small">F. VAUX WILSON</span></p>
+<div class="img">
+<img src="images/seal.jpg" alt="Image of Stamp Seal" width="200" height="272" />
+</div>
+<p class="center">BOSTON
+<br /><span class="small">LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
+<br />1916</span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="small">Published, January, 1916
+<br />Reprinted, January, 1916 (twice)
+<br />February, 1916</span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="small"><i><b>Printers</b></i>
+<br /><span class="sc">S. J. Parkhill &amp; Co., Boston, U.S.A.</span></span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="front" class="img">
+<img src="images/front.jpg" alt="&ldquo;I am going to put that beast out of his misery,&rdquo; he answered." width="500" height="716" />
+<p class="center"><span class="small">&ldquo;I am going to put that beast out of his misery,&rdquo; he answered.
+<br /><span class="sc">Frontispiece.</span> <i><a href="#Page_132">See page 132.</a></i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<dl class="toc">
+<dt><a id="tocsh">CHAPTER</a> PAGE</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c1">I.&mdash;<span class="sc">News from the Pacific</span></a> 11</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c2">II.&mdash;<span class="sc">Mr. Francis</span></a> 15</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c3">III.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Murder at the Slate-Pits</span></a> 18</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c4">IV.&mdash;<span class="sc">My Mother&rsquo;s Warning</span></a> 23</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c5">V.&mdash;<span class="sc">Ravenor of Ravenor</span></a> 27</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c6">VI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Doubtful Visitor</span></a> 39</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c7">VII.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Meeting and a Metamorphosis</span></a> 43</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c8">VIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">An Abode of Mystery</span></a> 49</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c9">IX.&mdash;<span class="sc">Mr. Marx</span></a> 58</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c10">X.&mdash;<span class="sc">Lady Silchester</span></a> 65</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c11">XI.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Cry in the Avenue</span></a> 70</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c12">XII.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Dark Corner in the Avenue</span></a> 76</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c13">XIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Cloud Between Us</span></a> 81</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c14">XIV.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Meeting in the Coffee-Room</span></a> 85</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c15">XV.&mdash;<span class="sc">A T&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te Dinner</span></a> 89</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c16">XVI.&mdash;<span class="sc">Miss Mabel Fay</span></a> 93</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c17">XVII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Behind the Scenes at the Torchester Theatre</span></a> 98</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c18">XVIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">At Midnight on the Moor</span></a> 103</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c19">XIX.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Strange Attack</span></a> 111</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c20">XX.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Monastery Among the Hills</span></a> 115</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c21">XXI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Message from the Dead</span></a> 124</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c22">XXII.&mdash;<span class="sc">For Life</span></a> 127</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c23">XXIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">My Guardian</span></a> 135</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c24">XXIV.&mdash;<span class="sc">My First Dinner Party</span></a> 138</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c25">XXV.&mdash;<span class="sc">Mr. Marx&rsquo;s Warning</span></a> 144</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c26">XXVI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Lost Photograph</span></a> 148</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c27">XXVII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Leonard de Cartienne</span></a> 157</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c28">XXVIII.&mdash;&ldquo;<span class="sc">As Rome Does</span>&rdquo;</a> 164</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c29">XXIX.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Dinner Party Sub-rosa</span></a> 169</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c30">XXX.&mdash;<span class="sc">&Eacute;cart&eacute; with Mr. Fothergill</span></a> 174</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c31">XXXI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Startling Discovery</span></a> 182</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c32">XXXII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Forestalled</span></a> 190</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c33">XXXIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Gleam of Light</span></a> 195</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c34">XXXIV.&mdash;<span class="sc">Dr. Schofield&rsquo;s Opinion</span></a> 199</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c35">XXXV.&mdash;<span class="sc">An Invitation</span></a> 204</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c36">XXXVI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Metamorphosis</span></a> 209</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c37">XXXVII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Mr. Marx is Wanted</span></a> 218</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c38">XXXVIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">I Accept a Mission</span></a> 223</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c39">XXXIX.&mdash;<span class="sc">My Ride</span></a> 225</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c40">XL.&mdash;<span class="sc">My Mission</span></a> 229</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c41">XLI.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Count de Cartienne</span></a> 232</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c42">XLII.&mdash;<span class="sc">News of Mr. Marx</span></a> 240</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c43">XLIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">About Town</span></a> 246</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c44">XLIV.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Midnight Excursion to the Suburbs</span></a> 252</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c45">XLV.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Mysterious Commission</span></a> 258</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c46">XLVI.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Brush with the Police</span></a> 261</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c47">XLVII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Light at Last</span></a> 264</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c48">XLVIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Page of History</span></a> 269</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c49">XLIX.&mdash;<span class="sc">I will Go Alone</span></a> 278</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c50">L.&mdash;<span class="sc">I Meet my Father</span></a> 280</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c51">LI.&mdash;<span class="sc">Dawn</span></a> 284</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c52">LII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Where is Mr. Marx?</span></a> 287</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c53">LIII.&mdash;<span class="sc">Messrs. Higgenson and Co.</span></a> 293</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c54">LIV.&mdash;<span class="sc">A Raid</span></a> 299</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c55">LV.&mdash;<span class="sc">The Mystery of Mr. Marx</span></a> 304</dt>
+<dt><a href="#c56">LVI.&mdash;<span class="sc">The End of It</span></a> 308</dt>
+</dl>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_11">[11]</div>
+
+<h2>MR. MARX&rsquo;S SECRET</h2>
+<h2 id="c1">CHAPTER I.
+<br /><span class="small">NEWS FROM THE PACIFIC.</span></h2>
+<p>My home was a quaint, three-storeyed, ivy-clad
+farmhouse in a Midland county. It lay in a
+hollow, nestled close up against Rothland Wood,
+the dark, close-growing trees of which formed a
+picturesque background to the worn greystone
+whereof it was fashioned.</p>
+<p>In front, just across the road, was the boundary-wall
+of Ravenor Park, with its black fir spinneys,
+huge masses of lichen-covered rock, clear fish-ponds,
+and breezy hills, from the summits of which
+were visible the sombre grey towers of Ravenor
+Castle, standing out with grim, rugged boldness
+against the sky.</p>
+<p>Forbidden ground though it was, there was not
+a yard of the park up to the inner boundary
+fence which I did not know; not a spinney where
+I had not searched for birds&rsquo; nests or raided in
+quest of the first primrose; not a hill on which I
+had not spent some part of a summer afternoon.</p>
+<p>I was a trespasser, of course; but I was the
+son of Farmer Morton, an old tenant on the estate,
+and much in favour with the keepers, by reason
+of a famous brew which he was ever ready to offer
+a thirsty man, or to drink himself. So &ldquo;Morton&rsquo;s
+young &rsquo;un&rdquo; was unmolested; and, save for an
+occasional good-humoured warning from Crooks,
+the head-gamekeeper, during breeding-time, I
+had the run of the place.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_12">[12]</div>
+<p>Moreover, the great estates of which Ravenor
+Park was the centre knew at that time no other
+master than a lawyer of non-sporting proclivities,
+so the preserves were only looked after as a matter
+of form.</p>
+<p>I was eight years old, and an unusually hot
+summer was at its height. It was past midday,
+and I had just come out from the house, with the
+intention of settling down for an afternoon&rsquo;s
+reading in a shady corner of the orchard. I had
+reached the stack-yard gate when I stopped short,
+my hand upon the fastening.</p>
+<p>A most unusual sound was floating across the
+meadows, through the breathless air. The church-bells
+of Rothland, the village on the other side of
+the wood, had suddenly burst out into a wild,
+clashing peal of joy.</p>
+<p>In a country district everybody knows everyone
+else&rsquo;s business; and, child though I was, I knew
+that no marriage was taking place anywhere near.</p>
+<p>I stood listening in wonderment, for I had never
+heard such a thing before; and, while I was
+lingering, the bells from Annerley, a village a little
+farther away, and the grand, mellow-sounding
+chimes from the chapel at Ravenor Castle, breaking
+the silence of many years, took up the peal, and
+the lazy summer day seemed all of a sudden to
+wake up into a state of unaccountable delight.</p>
+<p>I ran back towards the house and met my mother
+standing in the cool stone porch. The men about
+the farm were all grouped together, wondering.
+No one had the least idea of what had happened.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_13">[13]</div>
+<p>And then Jim Harrison, the waggoner, who had
+just come in from the home meadow, called out
+quickly, pointing with his finger; and far away,
+along the white, dusty road, we could see the figure
+of a man on horseback riding towards us at a furious
+gallop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It be the master!&rdquo; he cried, excitedly. &ldquo;It
+be the master, for sure! There bean&rsquo;t no mistaking
+Brown Bess&rsquo;s gallop. Lord-a-mercy! how
+&rsquo;e be a-riding her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We all trooped out on to the road to meet my
+father, eager to hear the news. In a few moments
+he reached us, and brought Brown Bess to a standstill,
+bathed in sweat and dust, and quivering in
+every limb.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah, lads!&rdquo; he shouted, waving his whip
+above his head. &ldquo;Hurrah! There never was such
+a bit o&rsquo; news as I&rsquo;ve got for you! All Mellborough
+be gone crazy about it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, George? Why don&rsquo;t you tell
+us?&rdquo; my mother asked quickly. And, to my
+surprise, her hand, in which mine was resting, was
+as cold as ice, notwithstanding the August heat.</p>
+<p>He raised himself in his stirrups and shouted so
+that all might hear:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Squire Ravenor be come to life again! They
+&rsquo;a&rsquo; found him on an island in the Pacific, close
+against the coral reef where his yacht went down
+six years ago! He&rsquo;s on his way home again, lads.
+Think of that! Sal, lass, bring us up a gallon of
+ale and another after it. We&rsquo;ll drink to his homecoming,
+lads!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a burst of applause and many
+exclamations of wonder. My mother&rsquo;s hand had
+moved, as though unconsciously, to my shoulder,
+and she was leaning heavily upon me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you hear this, George?&rdquo; she asked,
+in a subdued tone.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_14">[14]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, it be in all the London papers this morning,&rdquo;
+he answered, taking off his hat and wiping
+his forehead. &ldquo;The steamer that&rsquo;s bringing him
+home &rsquo;a&rsquo; sent a message from some foreign port,
+and Lawyer Cox he&rsquo;s got one, and it&rsquo;s all written
+up large on the walls of the Corn Exchange. I
+reckon it&rsquo;ll make those deuced lawyers sit up!&rdquo;
+chuckled my father, as he slowly dismounted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord-a-mercy! Only to think on it! Six
+year on a little bit o&rsquo; an island, and not a living
+soul to speak a word to! And now he&rsquo;s on his
+way home again. It beats all story-telling I
+ever heerd on. Why, Alice, lass, it &rsquo;a&rsquo; quite
+upset you,&rdquo; he added, looking anxiously at my
+mother. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re all white and scared-like. Dost
+feel badly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was standing with her back to us and when
+she turned round it seemed to me that a change
+had crept into her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the heat and excitement,&rdquo; she said
+quietly. &ldquo;This is strange news. I think that
+I will go in and rest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, lass! Get thee indoors and lie
+down for a bit. Now, then, lads. Hurrah for the
+squire and long life to him! Pour it out, Jim&mdash;pour
+it out! Don&rsquo;t be afraid on it. Such news
+as this don&rsquo;t coom every day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, with the vision of my stalwart yeoman
+father, the centre of a little group of farm-labourers,
+holding his foaming glass high above his head,
+and his honest face ruddy with heat and excitement,
+my memories of this scene grow dim and
+fade away.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_15">[15]</div>
+<h2 id="c2">CHAPTER II.
+<br /><span class="small">MR. FRANCIS.</span></h2>
+<p>I was alone with my father in the kitchen, and he
+was looking as I had never seen him look before.
+It was late in the afternoon&mdash;as near as I can
+remember, about six weeks after the news had
+reached us of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s wonderful adventures.
+He had just come in for tea, flushed with toil and
+labouring in the hot sun. But as he stood on the
+flags before me, reading a letter which had been
+sent up from the village, the glow seemed to die
+out from his face and his strong, rough hands
+trembled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a lie!&rdquo; I heard him mutter to himself, in
+a hoarse whisper&mdash;&ldquo;a wicked lie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he sank back in one of the high-backed
+chairs and I watched him, frightened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, lad,&rdquo; he said to me, speaking slowly,
+and yet with a certain eagerness in his tone, &ldquo;has
+your mother had any visitors lately whilst I &rsquo;a&rsquo;
+been out on the farm?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one, except Mr. Francis,&rdquo; I added doubtfully.</p>
+<p>He groaned and hid his face for a moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How often has he been here?&rdquo; he asked, after
+a while. &ldquo;When did he come first? Dost remember?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_16">[16]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I answered promptly, &ldquo;It was on the
+day Tom Foulds fell from the oat-stack and broke
+his leg. There was another gentleman with him
+then. I saw them looking in at the orchard gate,
+so I asked them if they wanted anything, and the
+strange gentleman said that he was thirsty and
+would like some milk, so I took him into the
+dairy; and I think that mother must have
+known him before, for she seemed so surprised to
+see him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He gave me half a crown, too,&rdquo; I went on,
+&ldquo;to run away and watch for a friend of his. But
+the friend never came, although I waited ever so
+long. He&rsquo;s been often since; but I don&rsquo;t like
+him and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I broke off in sudden dismay. Had not my
+mother forbidden my mentioning these visits to
+anyone? What had I done? I began to cry
+silently.</p>
+<p>My father rose from his chair and leaned against
+the oaken chimney-piece, with his back turned
+towards me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s he, sure enough!&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;Heaven
+forgive her! But him&mdash;him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His voice seemed choked with passion and he
+did not finish his sentence. I knew that I had
+done wrong, and a vague apprehension of threatening
+evil stole swiftly upon me. But I sat still
+and waited.</p>
+<p>It was long before my father turned round and
+spoke again. When he did so I scarcely knew
+him, for there were deep lines across his forehead,
+and all the healthy, sunburnt tan seemed to have
+gone from his face. He looked ten years older
+and I trembled when he spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, Philip, lad!&rdquo; he said gravely. &ldquo;Your
+mother thinks I be gone straight away to Farmer
+Woods to see about the colt, don&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_17">[17]</div>
+<p>I nodded silently. We had not expected him
+home again until late in the evening.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, look you here, Philip,&rdquo; he continued.
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s gone to bed wi&rsquo; a headache, you say?
+Very well. Just you promise me that you won&rsquo;t
+go near her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I promised readily enough. Then he bade me
+get my tea and he sank back again into his chair.
+Once I asked him timidly if he were not going to
+have some, but he took no notice. When I had
+finished he led me softly upstairs and locked me
+in my room. Never to this day have I forgotten
+that dull look of hopeless agony in his face as he
+turned away and left me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_18">[18]</div>
+<h2 id="c3">CHAPTER III.
+<br /><span class="small">THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.</span></h2>
+<p>It was late on this same evening. All day long
+the thunder had been rumbling and growling,
+and now the storm seemed close at hand.</p>
+<p>I had partly undressed, but it was too hot to
+get into bed, so I leaned out of my wide-open
+window, watching the black clouds hanging
+down from the sky, and listening to the rustling
+of leaves in the wood&mdash;sure sign of the coming
+storm.</p>
+<p>The air was stifling; and, longing feverishly for
+the rain, I sat in the deep window-sill and looked
+out into the scented darkness, for honeysuckle and
+clematis drooped around my window and the
+garden below was overgrown with homely, sweet-smelling
+flowers.</p>
+<p>Suddenly I started. I was quick at hearing, and
+I had distinctly caught the sound of a light, firm
+step passing down the garden path beneath. My
+first impulse was to call out, but I checked it when
+I recognised the tall, graceful figure moving swiftly
+along the gravel walk in the shade of the yew-hedge.
+It was my mother!</p>
+<p>I watched her, scarcely believing my eyes.
+What could she be wanting in the garden at this
+hour? And while I sat on the window casement,
+wondering, a cold shiver of alarm chilled me, for
+I saw a man creep stealthily out from the wood and
+hurry across the little stretch of meadow towards
+the garden gate, where she was standing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_19">[19]</div>
+<p>The moon was shining with a sickly light through
+a thick halo of mist and I could only just distinguish
+the figures of my mother and this man, side
+by side, talking earnestly. I watched them with
+riveted eyes until I heard a quick step on the floor
+behind me and a hand was laid upon my mouth,
+stifling my cry of surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only me, Philip, lad,&rdquo; whispered a hoarse,
+tremulous voice. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t want you to call out&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+all. Hast seen anything of this before?&rdquo;
+And he pointed, with shaking finger, towards the
+window, from which he had drawn me back a
+little.</p>
+<p>I looked at him, a great horror stealing over
+me. His ruddy face was blanched and drawn, as
+though with pain; and there was a terrible light
+in his eyes. I was frightened and half inclined
+to cry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; I faltered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s only Mr. Francis, isn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only Mr. Francis!&rdquo; I heard my father repeat,
+with a groan. &ldquo;Oh, Alice, lass&mdash;Alice! How
+could you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He staggered blindly towards the door. I rushed
+after him, piteously calling him back, but he pushed
+me off roughly and hurried out.</p>
+<p>I heard him leave the house, but he did not
+go down the garden. Then, in a few minutes,
+every one of which seemed to me like an hour,
+the low voices at the gate ceased and my mother
+came slowly up the path towards the house.</p>
+<p>I rushed downstairs and met her in the hall.
+She seemed half surprised, half angry, to see me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;I thought you were
+in bed long ago! What are you doing here?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_20">[20]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I am frightened!&rdquo; I sobbed out. &ldquo;Father
+has been in my room watching you at the gate
+and he talked so strangely. He is very angry and
+he looks as though he were going to hurt someone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My mother leaned against the wall, every vestige
+of colour gone from her face, and her hand pressed
+to her side. She understood better than I did then.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is he now?&rdquo; she asked hysterically.
+&ldquo;Quick, Philip&mdash;quick! Tell me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is gone,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;He went out by
+the front door and up the road.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sudden calmness seemed to come to her and
+she stood for a moment thinking aloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has gone up to the wood gate! They will
+meet in the wood. Oh, Heaven, prevent it!&rdquo; she
+cried passionately.</p>
+<p>She turned and rushed into the garden, down
+the path and through the wicket gate towards
+the wood. I followed her, afraid to stay alone.
+A vast mass of inky-black clouds had sailed in
+front of the moon and the darkness, especially
+in the wood, was intense.</p>
+<p>More than once I fell headlong down, scratching
+my face and hands with the brambles; but each
+time I was on my feet immediately, scarcely conscious
+of the pain in my wild desire to keep near
+my mother.</p>
+<p>How she found her way I cannot tell. Great
+pieces of her dress were torn off and remained
+hanging to the bushes into which she stepped;
+and many times I saw her run against a tree and
+recoil half stunned by the shock.</p>
+<p>But still we made progress, and at last we came
+to a part of the wood where the trees and undergrowth
+were less dense and there was a steep
+ascent. Up it we ran and when we reached the
+top my mother paused to listen, while I stood,
+breathless, by her side.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_21">[21]</div>
+<p>Save that the leaves above us were stirring with
+a curious motion, there was not a sound in the
+whole wood. Birds and animals, even insects,
+seemed to have crept away to their holes before
+the coming storm. We could see nothing, for a
+thick mantle of darkness&mdash;a darkness which could
+almost be felt&mdash;had fallen upon the earth. We
+stood crouched together, trembling and fearful.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank Heaven for the darkness!&rdquo; my mother
+murmured to herself. &ldquo;Philip,&rdquo; she went on,
+stooping down and feeling for my hand, &ldquo;do you
+know where we are? We should be close to the
+slate-pits.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was on the point of answering her, but the
+words died away on my parted lips. Such a sight
+as was revealed to us at that moment might have
+driven a strong man mad.</p>
+<p>Although half a lifetime has passed away, I can
+see it now as at that moment. But describe it I
+cannot, for no words of mine could paint the
+thrilling beauty and, at the same time, the
+breathless horror of the scene which opened like
+a flash before us.</p>
+<p>Trees, sky, and space were suddenly bathed in
+a brilliant, lurid light, the like of which I have
+never since seen, nor ever shall again. It came
+and went in a space of time which only thought
+could measure; and this is what it showed us:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Yawning at our feet the deep pit and sullen
+waters of the quarry, for we were scarcely a
+single step from the precipitous edge; the huge
+piles of slate and the sheds with the workmen&rsquo;s
+tools scattered around; and my father, his arms
+thrown upwards in agony, and a wild cry bursting
+from his lips, at the very moment that he was
+hurled over the opposite side of the chasm!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_22">[22]</div>
+<p>We saw the frantic convulsions of despair upon
+his ashen face, his eyes starting from their sockets,
+as he felt himself falling into space; and we saw
+the dim outline of another man staggering back
+from the brink, with his hands outstretched before
+his face, in horror at what he had done.</p>
+<p>Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fierce
+glare vanished. The heavens&mdash;only a moment
+before open and flooding the land with sheets of
+living fire&mdash;were black and impenetrable, and the
+crashing thunder shook the air around and made
+the earth tremble, as though it were splitting up
+and the very elements were being dissolved.</p>
+<p>With a cry, the heartrending anguish of which
+will ring for ever in my ears, my mother sank down,
+a white, scared heap; and I, my limbs unstrung
+and my senses numbed, crouched helpless beside
+her. Then the rain fell and there was silence.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_23">[23]</div>
+<h2 id="c4">CHAPTER IV.
+<br /><span class="small">MY MOTHER&rsquo;S WARNING.</span></h2>
+<p>For many weeks after that terrible night in Rothland
+Wood, I lay wrestling with a fierce fever,
+my recovery from which was deemed little short
+of miraculous. A sound constitution, however,
+and careful nursing brought me round, and I
+opened my eyes one sunny morning upon what
+seemed to me almost a new world.</p>
+<p>The first thing that I can clearly remember
+after my return to consciousness was the extraordinary
+change which had taken place in my
+mother. From a beautiful, active woman, she
+seemed to have become transformed into a stern,
+cold statue.</p>
+<p>Even now I can recall how frightened I was
+of her during those first days of convalescence,
+and how I shrank from her constant presence by
+my bedside with a nameless dread.</p>
+<p>The change was in her appearance as well as
+in her manner. Her rich brown hair had turned
+completely grey, and there was a frigid, set look
+in her face, denuded of all expression or affection,
+which chilled me every time I looked into it.
+It was the face&mdash;not of my mother, but of a
+stranger.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_24">[24]</div>
+<p>As I began to regain strength and the doctors
+pronounced me fit to leave the sick-room, she
+began to display signs of uneasiness, and often
+looked at me in a singular kind of way, as
+though there were something which she would say
+to me.</p>
+<p>And one night I woke up suddenly, to find her
+standing by my bedside, wrapped in a long dressing-gown,
+her grey hair streaming down her back
+and a wild gleam in her burning eyes. I started
+up in bed with a cry of fear, but she held out
+her hand with a gesture which she intended to be
+reassuring.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing is the matter, Philip,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Lie
+down, but listen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I obeyed, and had she noticed me closely
+she would have seen that I was shivering; for
+her strange appearance and the total lack of
+affection in her manner, had filled me with something
+approaching to horror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, you will soon be well enough to go
+out,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;People will ask you questions
+about that night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was the first time the subject had been
+broached between us. I raised myself a little in
+the bed and gazed at her, with blanched cheeks
+and fascinated eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, Philip! You must remember nothing.
+Do you understand me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I answered faintly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must forget that you saw me in the garden;
+you must forget everything your father said to
+you. Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I repeated. &ldquo;But&mdash;but, mother&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will he be caught&mdash;the man who killed father?&rdquo;
+I asked timidly. &ldquo;Oh, I hope he will!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her lips parted slowly, and she laughed&mdash;a bitter,
+hysterical laugh, which seemed to me the most
+awful sound I had ever heard.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_25">[25]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Hope! Yes; you may hope&mdash;hope if you
+will!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;but remember this, boy:
+If your hope comes true, it will be an evil day
+for you and for me! Remember!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she turned and walked to the door without
+another word. I sat in bed and watched her
+piteously, with a great lump in my throat and a
+sore heart. The moonlight was pouring in through
+my latticed window, falling full upon the long,
+graceful lines of her stately figure and her hard,
+cold face. I was forlorn and unhappy, but to look
+at her froze the words upon my lips.</p>
+<p>Merciless and cruel her features seemed to
+me. There was no pity, no love, not a
+shadow of response to my half-formed, appealing
+gesture. I let her go and sank back upon my
+pillows, weeping bitterly, with a deep sense of
+utter loneliness and desolation.</p>
+<p>On the following day I was allowed to leave
+my room and very soon I was able to get about.
+As my mother had anticipated, many people asked
+me questions concerning the events of that hideous
+night. To one and all my answer was the same.
+I remembered nothing. My illness had left my
+memory a blank.</p>
+<p>Long afterwards I saw more clearly how well it
+was that I had obeyed my mother&rsquo;s bidding.</p>
+<p>A brief extract from a county newspaper will
+be sufficient to show what the universal opinion
+was concerning my father&rsquo;s murder. I copy it
+here:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In another column will be found an account
+of the inquest on the body of George Morton,
+farmer, late of Rothland Wood Farm. The verdict
+returned by the jury&mdash;namely, &lsquo;Wilful murder
+against John Francis&rsquo;&mdash;was, in the face of the
+evidence, the only possible one; and everyone
+must unite in hoping that the efforts of the police
+will be successful, and that the criminal will not
+be allowed to escape. The facts are simple and
+conclusive.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_26">[26]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It appears from the evidence of Mr. Bullson,
+landlord of the George Hotel, Mellborough, and of
+several other <i>habitu&eacute;s</i> of the place, that only a
+few days before the deed was committed, there
+was a violent dispute between deceased and Francis
+and that threats were freely used on both sides.
+On the night in question Francis started from
+Rothland village shortly after nine o&rsquo;clock, with
+the intention of making his way through the wood
+to Ravenor Castle. Owing, no doubt, to the extraordinary
+darkness of the night, he appears to
+have lost his way, and to have been directed by
+Mrs. Morton, who noticed him wandering about
+near her garden gate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs. Morton declines to swear to his identity,
+owing in the darkness; but this, in the face of
+other circumstances, must count for little in his
+favour. He was also seen by the deceased, who,
+enraged at finding him on his land and addressing
+his wife, started in pursuit, followed by Mrs.
+Morton and her little boy, who arrived at the
+slate-pits in time to witness, but too late to
+prevent, the awful tragedy which we fully reported
+a few days since.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In face of the flight of the man Francis,
+and the known fact that he was in the wood that
+night, there is little room for doubt as to his being
+the actual perpetrator of the deed, although the
+details of the struggle must remain, for the present,
+shrouded in mystery. Mr. Ravenor, who has just
+arrived in England, has offered a reward of &pound;500
+for information leading to the arrest of Francis,
+who was a servant at the Castle.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_27">[27]</div>
+<h2 id="c5">CHAPTER V.
+<br /><span class="small">RAVENOR OF RAVENOR.</span></h2>
+<p>It was generally expected that my mother would
+be anxious to depart as soon as possible from a
+neighbourhood which had such terrible associations
+for her. As a matter of fact, she showed no intention
+of doing anything of the sort. At the time
+I rather wondered at this, but I am able now to
+divine her reason.</p>
+<p>It chanced that the farm, of which my father
+had been tenant for nearly a quarter of a century,
+was taken by a neighbour who had no use for the
+house, and so it was arranged that we should stay
+on at a merely nominal rent. Then began a
+chapter of my life without event, which I can
+pass rapidly over.</p>
+<p>Every morning I walked over to Rothland and
+received two hours&rsquo; instruction from the curate,
+and in the afternoon my mother taught me modern
+languages. The rest of the day I spent alone, wandering
+whithersoever I pleased, staying away as
+long as I chose, and returning when I felt inclined.
+The results of such a life at my age soon developed
+themselves. I became something of a misanthrope,
+a great reader, and a passionate lover of Nature.
+At any rate, it was healthy, and my taste for all
+sorts of outdoor sport prevented my becoming a
+bookworm.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_28">[28]</div>
+<p>It had its influence, too, upon my disposition.
+It strengthened and gave colour to my imagination,
+expanded my mind, and filled me with a strong
+love for everything that was vigorous and fresh
+and pure in the books I read.</p>
+<p>Shakespeare and Goethe were my first favourites
+in literature; but as I grew older the fascination
+of lyric poetry obtained a hold upon me, and
+Shelley and Keats, for a time, reigned supreme
+in my fancy. But my tastes were catholic. I
+read everything that came in my way, and was
+blessed with a wonderful memory, which enabled
+me to retain much that was worth retaining.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the more purely technical part of
+my education was being steadily persevered in;
+and so I was not surprised, although it was rather
+a blow to me, when the clergyman who had been
+my tutor walked home with me through the wood
+one summer evening, and told my mother that it
+was useless my going to him any longer, for I already
+knew all that he could teach me.</p>
+<p>I watched her covertly, hoping that she would
+show some sign of gratification at what I felt to
+be a high compliment. But she simply remarked
+that, if such was the case, she supposed the
+present arrangement had better terminate, thanked
+him for the trouble he had taken with me, and
+dismissed the matter. I scanned her cold, beautiful
+face in vain for any signs of interest. The cloud
+which had fallen between us on the night of my
+father&rsquo;s murder had never been lifted.</p>
+<p>The curate stayed to tea with us, and afterwards
+I walked back through the woods with him,
+for he was a sociable fellow, fond of company&mdash;even
+mine.</p>
+<p>When I reached home again I found my mother
+looking out for me, and I knew from her manner
+that she had something important to say to me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_29">[29]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, I have heard to-day that Mr. Ravenor
+is expected home,&rdquo; she said slowly.</p>
+<p>I started and a little exclamation of pleasure
+escaped me. There was no man whom I longed
+so much to see. What a reputation was his! A
+scholar of European fame, a poet, and a great
+sinner; a Cr&oelig;sus; at times a reckless Sybarite,
+at others an ascetic and a hermit; a student of
+Voltaire; the founder of a new school of philosophy.
+All these things I had heard of him at different
+times, but as yet I had never seen him. Something
+more than my curiosity had been excited
+and I looked forward now to its gratification.</p>
+<p>My mother took no note of my exclamation, but
+her brow darkened. We were standing together
+on the lawn in front of the house and she was in
+the shadow of a tall cypress tree.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not suppose that he will remain here
+long,&rdquo; she continued, in a hard, strained tone;
+&ldquo;but while he is at the Castle it is my wish that
+you do not enter the park at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not enter the park!&rdquo; I repeated the words
+and stared at my mother in blank astonishment.
+What difference could Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s presence make
+to us?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Surely you do not mean this?&rdquo; I cried, bitterly
+disappointed. &ldquo;Why, I have been looking forward
+for years to see Mr. Ravenor! He is a famous
+man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it,&rdquo; she interrupted, &ldquo;and a very
+dangerous one. I do not wish you to meet him.
+The chances are that he would not notice you if
+he saw you, but it is better to run no risks. You
+will remember what I have said? A man of his
+strange views and principles is to be avoided&mdash;especially
+by an impressionable boy like you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_30">[30]</div>
+<p>She left me dumbfounded, crossed the lawn with
+smooth, even footsteps, and entered the house.
+I watched her disappear, disturbed and uneasy;
+Something in her manner had conveyed a strange
+impression to me. I could not help thinking
+she had other reasons than those she had given
+for wishing to keep Mr. Ravenor and me apart.
+It seemed on the face of it to be a very absurd
+notion, but it had laid hold of me and her subsequent
+conduct did not tend to dispel it.</p>
+<p>On the afternoon of his expected arrival I lingered
+about for hours in the orchard, hoping to
+catch a glimpse of him, for the gates of the park,
+opposite our house, were the nearest to Mellborough
+Station. But I was disappointed. He came, it
+is true, but in a closed brougham, drawn by a
+pair of swift, high-stepping bays, which swept like
+a flash by the hedge over which I was looking,
+leaving a confused recollection of glistening harness,
+handsome liveries, and a dark, noble face, partly
+turned towards me, but imperfectly seen. It was
+a glimpse which only increased my interest; yet
+how to gratify my curiosity in view of my mother&rsquo;s
+wishes I could not tell.</p>
+<p>That night she renewed her prohibition. She
+came to me in the little room, where I kept my
+books and Penates, and laid her hand upon my
+shoulder. Mr. Ravenor had returned, she said&mdash;how
+did she know, save that she, too, had been
+watching, for the flag was not yet hoisted?&mdash;and
+she hoped that I would remember what her
+wishes were.</p>
+<p>I promised that I would observe them, as
+far as I could, although they seemed to me
+ridiculous, and I did not hesitate to hint as much.
+What was more unlikely than that Mr. Ravenor,
+distinguished man of the world, should take the
+slightest notice of a country boy, much more
+attempt to gain any sort of influence over him?
+The more I thought of it and of my mother&rsquo;s
+nervous fears, the more I grew convinced, against
+my will, of some other motive which was to be
+kept secret from me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_31">[31]</div>
+<p>A week passed and very little was seen of Mr.
+Ravenor by anyone. As usual, many rumours
+were circulated and discussed. He was reported
+to have shut himself up in his library and to have
+refused admission to all visitors. He was living
+like an anchorite, fasting and working hard, surrounded
+by books and manuscripts all day and
+night, and far into the small hours of the morning.
+He was doing penance for recent excesses; he
+was preparing for some wild orgies; he was
+writing a novel, a philosophical pamphlet, an
+article for the reviews, or another volume of
+poems.</p>
+<p>Among all classes of our neighbours nothing
+else was talked about but the doings, or supposed
+doings, of Mr. Ravenor.</p>
+<p>One afternoon chance led me into the little room
+which my mother called her own, a room I seldom
+entered. There was a small volume lying on the
+table and carelessly I took it up and glanced at
+the title. Then, with a quick exclamation of pleasure,
+I carried it away with me. It was Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+first little volume of poems, which I had tried
+in vain to get. The Mellborough bookseller of
+whom I had ordered it told me that it was out of
+print. The first edition had been exhausted long
+since and the author had refused to allow a second
+edition to be issued.</p>
+<p>I met my mother in the hall and held out the
+volume to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never told me that you had a copy of
+Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s poems,&rdquo; I said reproachfully. &ldquo;I
+have just found it in your room.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_32">[32]</div>
+<p>She started, and for a moment I feared that
+she was going to insist upon my giving up the
+book. She did not do so, however; but I noticed
+that the hand which was resting upon the banister
+was grasping the handrail nervously, as though for
+support, and that she was white to the very lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I had forgotten,&rdquo; she said slowly&mdash;&ldquo;I
+mean that I had forgotten you had ever asked
+for it. Take care of it, Philip, and give it me back
+to-night. It was given to me by a friend and I
+value it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I promised and left the house. My range of
+pleasures was in some respects a limited one, but
+it did not prevent me from being an epicure with
+regard to their enjoyment. I did not glance inside
+the book, although I was longing to do so, until
+I had walked five or six miles and had reached
+one of my favourite halting-places. Then I threw
+myself down in the shadow of a great rock on the
+top of Beacon Hill and took the volume from my
+pocket.</p>
+<p>It was a small, olive-green book, delicately
+bound, and printed upon rough paper. It had
+been given to my mother, evidently, for her Christian
+name was inside, written in a fine, dashing hand,
+and underneath were some initials which had become
+indistinct. Then, having satisfied myself of this,
+and handled it for a few moments, I turned over
+the pages rapidly and began to read.</p>
+<p>The first part was composed almost entirely of
+sonnets and love-poems. One after another I read
+them and wondered. There was nothing amateurish,
+nothing weak, here. They were full of
+glowing imagery, of brilliant colouring, of passion,
+of fire. Crude some of them seemed to me, who
+had read no modern poetry and knew many of
+Shakespeare&rsquo;s and Milton&rsquo;s sonnets by heart; but
+full of genius, nevertheless, and with the breath
+of life warm in them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_33">[33]</div>
+<p>The second portion was devoted to longer poems
+and these I liked best. There was in some
+more than a touch of the graceful, fascinating
+mysticism of Shelley, the passionate outcry of a
+strong, noble mind, seeking to wrest from Nature
+her vast secrets and to fathom the mysteries of
+existence; the wail of bewildered nobility of soul
+turning in despair from the cold creeds of modern
+religion to seek some other and higher form of
+spiritual life.</p>
+<p>I read on until the sun had gone down and the
+shades of twilight had chased the afterglow from
+the western sky. Then I closed the book and
+rose suddenly with a great start.</p>
+<p>Scarcely a dozen yards away, on the extreme
+summit of the hill, a man on horseback sat watching
+me. His unusually tall figure and the fine shape
+of the coal-black horse which he was riding, stood
+out against the background of the distant sky
+with a vividness which seemed almost more than
+natural. Such a face as his I had never seen,
+never imagined. I could neither describe it, nor
+think of anything with which to compare it.</p>
+<p>Dark, with jet-black hair, and complexion perfectly
+clear, but tanned by Southern suns; a small,
+firm mouth; a high forehead, furrowed with
+thought; aquiline nose; grey-blue eyes, powerful
+and expressive&mdash;any man might thus be described,
+and yet lack altogether the wonderful charm of
+the face into which I looked. It was the rare
+combination of perfect classical modelling with
+intensity of character and nobility of intellect.
+It was the face of a king among men; and yet
+there were times when a certain smile played around
+those iron lips, and a certain light flashed in those
+brilliant eyes, when to look into it made me shudder.
+But that was afterwards.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_34">[34]</div>
+<p>He remained looking at me and I at him, for
+fully a minute. Then he beckoned to me with
+his whip&mdash;a slight but imperious gesture. I rose
+and walked to his side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he asked curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Philip Morton,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I
+live at Rothland Wood farmhouse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Son of the man who was murdered?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I assented. He gazed at me fixedly, with the
+faintest possible expression of interest in his languid
+grey eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were very intent upon your book,&rdquo; he
+remarked. &ldquo;What was it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I held it up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You should know it, sir,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>He glanced at the title and shrugged his shoulders
+slightly. There were indications of a frown upon
+his fine forehead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You should be able to employ your time better
+than that,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so. I am fond of reading&mdash;especially
+poetry,&rdquo; I replied.</p>
+<p>The idea seemed to amuse him, for he smiled,
+and the stem lines in his countenance relaxed for
+a moment. Directly his lips were parted his whole
+expression was transformed and I understood
+what women had meant when they talked about
+the fascination of his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fond of reading, are you? A village bookworm.
+Well, they say that to book-lovers every
+volume has a language and a mission of its own.
+What do my schoolboy voices tell you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That you were once in love,&rdquo; I answered quickly.</p>
+<p>A half-amused, half-contemptuous shade passed
+across his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Youth has its follies, like every other stage of
+life,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I daresay I experienced the
+luxury of the sensation once, but it must have
+been a long time ago. Come, is that all it tells
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_35">[35]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It tells me that men lie when they call you
+an Atheist.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He sat quite still on his horse and the smile on
+his lips became a mocking one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Atheism was most unfashionable when those
+verses were written,&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;Any other
+&lsquo;ism&rsquo; was popular enough, but Atheism sounded
+ugly. Besides, I was only a boy then. Perhaps
+I had some imagination left. It is a gift which
+one loses in later life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But religion is not dependent upon imagination.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wholly. Religion is an effort of imagination
+and, therefore, is more or less a matter of disposition.
+That is one of its chief absurdities. Women
+and sensitive boys are easiest affected by it. Men
+of sturdy common-sense, men with brains and the
+knowledge how to use them, are every day bursting
+the trammels of an effete orthodoxy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what can their common-sense and their
+brains give them in its place?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;I
+cannot conceive any practical religion without
+orthodoxy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A little measure of philosophy. It is all they
+want. Only the faint-hearted, who have not the
+courage to contemplate physical annihilation, console
+themselves by building up a hysterical faith
+in an impossible hereafter. There is no hereafter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A horrible creed!&rdquo; I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By no means. Let men devote half the time
+and the efforts that they devote to this phantasy
+of religion to schooling themselves in philosophic
+thought, and they will learn to contemplate it
+unmoved. To recognise that the end of life is
+inevitable is to rob it of most of its terrors, save
+to cowards. The man who wastes a tissue of his
+body in regretting what he cannot prevent is a
+fool. Annihilation is a more comfortable doctrine
+and a more reasonable one, too. Don&rsquo;t you agree
+with me, boy?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_36">[36]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;No; not with a single word!&rdquo; I cried, growing
+hot and a little angry, for I could see that he was
+only half in earnest and I had no fancy to be made
+a butt of. &ldquo;Imagination is not the groundwork
+of religion; common-sense is. Why&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, spare me the stock arguments!&rdquo; he broke
+in, with a slight shudder. &ldquo;Keep your religion
+and hug it as close as you like, if you find it any
+comfort to you. Where have you been to school?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nowhere,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I have read with
+Mr. Sands, the curate of Rothland.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed softly to himself, as though the idea
+amused him, looking at me all the time as though
+I were some sort of natural curiosity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fond of reading, are you?&rdquo; he asked abruptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Fonder than I am of anything else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And your books&mdash;where do they come from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wherever I can get any. From the library at
+Mellborough, or from Mr. Sands, most of them.&rdquo;
+He laughed again and repeated my words, as
+though amused.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No wonder you&rsquo;re behind the times,&rdquo; he remarked.
+&ldquo;Now, shall I lend you some books?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head feebly, for I was longing to
+accept his offer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid your sort of books would not suit
+me,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be converted to
+your way of thinking. It seems to me that there
+is such a thing as overtraining of the mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you look upon me as a sort of Mephistopheles,
+eh? Well, I&rsquo;ve no ambition to make a convert of
+you. To be a pessimist is to be&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An unhappy man,&rdquo; I interrupted eagerly, &ldquo;and
+a very narrow-minded one, too. It is a city-born
+creed. No one could live out here in the country
+and espouse it!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_37">[37]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, how old are you?&rdquo; he asked abruptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Seventeen next birthday, sir,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have a glib tongue&mdash;the sign of an empty
+head, I fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better empty than full of unhealthy philosophy,&rdquo;
+I answered bluntly.</p>
+<p>He laughed outright.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The country air has sharpened your wits, at
+any rate,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a fool, Philip Morton;
+but you will be happier in your folly than other
+men in their wisdom. There&rsquo;s a great deal of
+comfort in ignorance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave me a careless yet not unkind nod and,
+wheeling his great horse round with a turn of the
+wrist, galloped down the hillside and across the
+soft, spongy turf at a pace which soon carried him
+out of sight. But I stood for a while on a piece
+of broken rock on the summit of the hill gazing
+after his retreating figure, and watching the twinkling
+lights from the many villages stretched away in
+the valley below. The sound of his low, strong
+voice yet vibrated in my ears, and the sad, beautiful
+face, with its languid grey eyes and weary expression,
+seemed still by my side. Already I began to feel
+something of the influence which this man appeared
+to exercise over everyone whom he came near;
+and I felt vaguely, even then, that if suffered to
+grow, it would become an influence all-powerful
+with me.</p>
+<p>When I reached home it was late&mdash;so late that
+my mother, who seldom betrayed any interest or
+curiosity in my doings, asked me questions. I
+felt a curious reluctance at first to tell her with
+whom I had been talking, and it was justified
+when I saw the effect which my words had upon
+her. A look almost of horror filled her eyes and
+her face was white with anger. It was as though
+a long-expected blow had fallen.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_38">[38]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;At last! at last!&rdquo; she murmured to herself,
+as though forgetful of my presence. Then her
+eyes closed and her lips moved softly. It seemed
+to me that she was praying.</p>
+<p>I was bewildered and inclined to be angry
+that she should carry her dislike of Mr. Ravenor
+so far. Did she think me so weak and impressionable
+that a few minutes&rsquo; conversation with
+any man could bring me harm?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You carry your dislike of Mr. Ravenor a little
+too far, mother,&rdquo; I ventured to say. &ldquo;What can
+you know of him so bad that you see danger in
+my having talked with him for a few minutes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at me fixedly and grew more composed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is too late now, Philip,&rdquo; she said, in a low
+tone. &ldquo;The mischief is done. If I could have
+foreseen this we would have gone away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To have avoided Mr. Ravenor?&rdquo; I cried,
+wondering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_39">[39]</div>
+<h2 id="c6">CHAPTER VI.
+<br /><span class="small">A DOUBTFUL VISITOR.</span></h2>
+<p>Late in the afternoon of the following day a
+visitor rode through the stack-yard and reined in
+his horse before our door. I was reading in the
+room which my mother chiefly occupied and,
+when I glanced out of the side-window, overhung
+and darkened by jessamine and honeysuckle, I
+had a great surprise. The book dropped from my
+fingers and I stood still for a moment, uncertain
+what to do. For outside, sitting composedly upon
+his fine black horse and apparently considering as
+to the best means of making his presence known,
+was Mr. Ravenor.</p>
+<p>He saw me and, with a curt but not ungracious
+motion of the head, beckoned me out. I went
+at once and found him dismounted and standing
+upon the step.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to see your mother, boy,&rdquo; he said
+sharply. &ldquo;Is there no one about who can hold
+my horse? Where are all the farm men?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated and stood there for a moment,
+awkward and confused. My mother&rsquo;s strange words
+concerning him were still ringing in my ears.
+Supposing she refused to come down and receive,
+as a visitor, the man of whom she had spoken
+such mysterious words? Nothing appeared to me
+more likely. And yet what was I to do?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_40">[40]</div>
+<p>He watched me, as though reading my thoughts.
+That he was indeed doing so I very quickly discovered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quick, boy!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am not accustomed
+to be kept waiting. I know as well as you
+do that I am not a welcome visitor, but your
+mother will see me, nevertheless. Call one of the
+men!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I passed across the garden and entered the farmyard.
+Jim, the waggoner, was there, turning
+over a manure-heap, and I returned with him at
+my heels. Mr. Ravenor tossed him the reins
+and, stooping low, followed me into our little
+sitting-room.</p>
+<p>He laid his whip upon the table and, selecting
+the most comfortable chair, sat down leisurely
+and crossed his legs. He was, of course, entirely
+at his ease, and was watching my discomposure
+with a quiet, mocking smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now go and tell your mother that I desire to
+see her!&rdquo; he commanded.</p>
+<p>With slow steps I turned away, and, mounting
+the stairs, knocked at her door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, there is a visitor downstairs!&rdquo; I called
+out softly. &ldquo;It is&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; she answered calmly. &ldquo;Go away.
+I shall be down in a few minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I went downstairs again and into the sitting-room,
+breathing more freely. Mr. Ravenor had
+not stirred, and when I entered appeared to
+be deep in thought. At the sound of my footsteps,
+however, his expression changed at once
+into its former impassiveness. He glanced round
+the room with an air of lazy curiosity and his
+half-closed eyes rested upon my little case of books.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you there?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;Read
+me out the titles.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_41">[41]</div>
+<p>I did so, with just an inkling of reluctance, for
+my collection was altogether a haphazard one,
+precious though it was to me. Half-way through
+he checked me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, that&rsquo;ll do!&rdquo; he exclaimed, laughing
+softly. &ldquo;This is really idyllic. &lsquo;Abercrombie&rsquo;
+and &lsquo;Robinson Crusoe,&rsquo; &lsquo;Jeremy Taylor&rsquo; and
+&lsquo;Thomas &agrave; Kempis.&rsquo; My poor boy, if you have
+a headpiece at all, how it must want oiling!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was a little indignant at his tone and answered
+him quickly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I&rsquo;m not sure that I should
+care for your kind of books very much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He arched his fine eyebrows and the smile still
+lingered around his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! And why not? And how have you
+been able to divine what sort of books mine are,
+without having seen them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, perhaps I don&rsquo;t mean that exactly,&rdquo; I
+answered, sitting on the edge of the table, and
+thrusting my hands deep down into my trousers
+pockets, with the uncomfortable sensation that I
+was making a fool of myself. &ldquo;I was judging
+from what you said you were last night. If study
+has only brought you to pessimism, I would rather
+be ignorant.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You really are a wonderfully wise boy for
+your years,&rdquo; he said, still smiling. &ldquo;But you
+must remember that there are two distinct branches
+of study. One, the more popular and the more
+commonly recognised, leads to acquired knowledge&mdash;the
+knowledge of facts and sciences and
+languages; the other is the pure sharpening and
+training of the mind, by reading other men&rsquo;s
+thoughts and ideas and theories&mdash;in short, by becoming
+master of all the philosophical writers of
+all nations. Now, it is the latter which you
+would have to avoid in order to retain your
+present Arcadian simplicity; but without the
+former, man is scarcely above the level of an
+animal.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_42">[42]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I see what you mean,&rdquo; I admitted.
+&ldquo;I should like to be a good classical scholar and
+mathematician, and know a lot of things. It
+seems to me,&rdquo; I added hesitatingly, &ldquo;that this
+sort of knowledge is quite sufficient to strengthen
+and train the mind. The other would be very likely
+to overtrain it and prove unhealthy, especially if
+it leads everyone where it has led you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I wanted no leading!&rdquo; he said lightly.
+&ldquo;I was born a pessimist. Schopenhauer was my
+earliest friend, Voltaire my teacher, and Shelley
+my god! Matter of disposition, of course. I had
+too little imagination to care a rap about cultivating
+a religion, and too much to be a moralist.
+Your mother is coming at last, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The door opened and I looked up anxiously.
+The words of introduction which had been trembling
+upon my lips were unuttered. I stood as helpless
+and dumbfounded as a ploughboy, with my eyes
+fixed upon my mother.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_43">[43]</div>
+<h2 id="c7">CHAPTER VII.
+<br /><span class="small">A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.</span></h2>
+<p>That it was my mother I could not at first believe.
+She wore a plain dark dress, with a black lace
+kerchief about her neck; but a dress, simple
+though it was, of a style and material unlike any
+that I had ever before seen her wear. Although
+I knew nothing of her history, I had always suspected
+that she was of a very different station
+from my father&rsquo;s, and at that moment I knew it,
+for it seemed as though she had, of a sudden, made
+up her mind to assume her proper position. Not
+only were her dress and the fashion of arranging
+her hair unusual, but her manners, her voice,
+her whole bearing and appearance were utterly
+changed. It was as though she had, without the
+slightest warning, dropped the mask of long years,
+and stepped back, like a flash, into the personality
+which belonged to her.</p>
+<p>Nor was this the only change. A slight pink
+flush had chased the leaden pallor from her
+cheeks, and her eyes, which had of late seemed
+dull and heavy, were full of sparkling light
+and suppressed animation. Her manners, as
+well as her personal appearance, all bore witness
+to some startling metamorphosis. I was more
+than astonished; I was thunderstruck. What
+seemed to me most wonderful was that a visit
+from the man against whom she had so solemnly
+and passionately cautioned me should thus have
+galvanised her into another state of being.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_44">[44]</div>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor rose at her entrance and bowed
+with the easy grace of a man of the world. My
+mother returned his greeting with a stately self-possession
+which matched his own; but it struck
+me, watching them both closely, that, while he was
+perfectly collected, she was in reality far from
+being so. I could see the delicate white fingers
+of her left hand fold themselves convulsively
+around the lace handkerchief which she was carrying,
+and when she entered a shiver&mdash;gone in a
+moment and perceptible only to me, because my eyes
+were fastened upon her&mdash;shook her slim, lithe figure.</p>
+<p>But in the few commonplace remarks which first
+passed between them there was nothing in speech
+or manner that betrayed the least embarrassment.
+She answered him as one of his own order, graciously,
+yet just allowing him to see that his visit was a
+surprise to her and that she expected him to
+declare its purpose. I have dwelt somewhat upon
+this meeting for reasons which will be sufficiently
+apparent when I have finished my story.</p>
+<p>After a few remarks about the farm, the crops,
+and the favourable weather, he gave the wished-for
+explanation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have come to say a few words to you about
+your son, Mrs. Morton,&rdquo; he began abruptly.</p>
+<p>She and I looked equally astonished.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am a man of few words,&rdquo; he continued.
+&ldquo;The few which I desire to say upon this subject
+had better be said, I think, to you alone, Mrs.
+Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I would have left the room at once, but my
+mother prevented me. She laid a trembling hand
+upon my shoulder, and drew me closer to her.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_45">[45]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You can have nothing to say to me, Mr. Ravenor,
+which it would not be better for him to hear,
+especially as you say that it concerns him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shrugged his high, square shoulders, as
+though indifferent; but I fancied, nevertheless,
+that a shade of annoyance lingered in his face for
+a moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good!&rdquo; he said shortly. &ldquo;Rumour may
+have told you, Mrs. Morton, if you ever listen to
+such things, that I am a very wicked man. Possibly!
+I don&rsquo;t deny it! At any rate, I am, by
+disposition and custom, profoundly selfish. I owe
+to your son a luxury&mdash;that of having found my
+thoughts withdrawn from myself for a few minutes&mdash;with
+me a most rare event.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I met him last evening and talked with him.
+He talked like a fool, it is true, but that has nothing
+to do with it. Afterwards I thought of him again;
+wondered what you were going to do with him;
+remembered&mdash;pardon me!&mdash;that you must be
+poor; and remembered, also, that you have
+suffered through a servant of mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He paused. For nearly half a minute they
+looked one another in the face&mdash;my mother and
+this man. There was something in her rapt, fascinated
+gaze, and in the keen, brilliant light which
+flashed from his dark eyes as he returned it, which
+seemed strange to me. It was like a challenge
+offered and accepted&mdash;a duel in which neither
+was vanquished, for neither flinched.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It occurred to me then,&rdquo; he continued calmly,
+&ldquo;to call and ask you what you intended doing
+with him, and to plead, as excuses for the suggestion
+which I am about to make, the reasons
+which I have just stated. I am a rich man, as
+you know, and the money would be nothing to
+me. I wish to be allowed to defray the expenses
+of finishing your son&rsquo;s education.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_46">[46]</div>
+<p>It seemed to me a magnificently generous offer,
+but a very simple one. I could not understand
+the agitation and apparent indecision which it
+caused my mother. Her prompt refusal I could
+have understood, although it would have been a
+blow to me. But this mixture of horror and consternation,
+of emotion and dismay, I could make
+nothing of. The feeling which I had imagined
+would surely be manifested&mdash;gratitude&mdash;was conspicuous
+by its absence. What did it all mean?</p>
+<p>My mother sat down and Mr. Ravenor leaned
+back in his armchair, apparently content to wait
+for her decision. I moved across the room to her
+side and took her cold fingers into mine.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; I cried, with glowing cheeks and
+voice trembling with eagerness, &ldquo;what is the
+matter? Why do you not say &lsquo;yes&rsquo;? You know
+how I have wanted to go to college! There is no
+reason why you should not consent, is there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor smiled&mdash;a very slight movement of
+the lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If your mother considers your interests at
+all,&rdquo; he said calmly, &ldquo;she will certainly consent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was about to speak, but my mother looked up
+and I checked the words on my lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor,&rdquo; she said quietly, &ldquo;I accept
+your offer and I thank you for it. That is all I
+can say.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quite enough,&rdquo; he remarked nonchalantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there is one thing I should like you to
+understand,&rdquo; she added, looking up at him. &ldquo;I
+consent, it is true; but, had it not been for another
+reason, far more powerful with me than any you
+have urged, I never should have done so. It is a
+reason which you do not know of&mdash;and which I
+pray that you never may know of,&rdquo; she added, in
+a lower key.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_47">[47]</div>
+<p>He made no answer; indeed, he seemed little
+interested in my mother&rsquo;s words. He turned,
+instead, to me and read in my face all the enthusiasm
+which hers lacked. I would have spoken,
+but he held up his hand and checked me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only on one condition,&rdquo; he said coldly. &ldquo;No
+thanks. I hate them! What I do for you I do
+to please myself. The money which it will cost
+me is no more than I have thrown away many
+times on the idlest passing pleasure. I have simply
+chosen to gratify a whim, and it happens that you
+are the gainer. Remember that you can best
+show your gratitude by silence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His words fell like drops of ice upon my impetuosity.
+I remained silent without an effort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what you said just now,&rdquo; he continued,
+&ldquo;I learn that it has been your desire to perfect
+your education in a fashion which you could not
+have done here. Have you any distinct aims?
+I mean, have you any definite ideas as to the
+future?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never dared to encourage any,&rdquo; I answered,
+truthfully enough. &ldquo;I knew that we were poor
+and that I should have to think about earning
+my living soon&mdash;probably as a schoolmaster.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean to say, then, that you have never
+had any distinct ambitions&mdash;everything has been
+vague?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Except one thing,&rdquo; I answered slowly. &ldquo;There
+is one thing which I have always set before me to
+accomplish some day, but it is scarcely an ambition
+and it has nothing to do with a career.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell it to me!&rdquo; he commanded.</p>
+<p>I did so, without hesitation, looking him full in
+the face with heightened colour, but speaking
+with all the determination which I felt in my heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have made up my mind that some day I
+will find the man Francis&mdash;the man who murdered
+my father!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_48">[48]</div>
+<p>He was silent. I could almost have fancied that
+he was in some measure moved by my words, and
+the refined beauty of his dark face was heightened
+for a moment by the strange, sad look which flashed
+across it. Then he rose and took up his riding-whip
+from the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A boyish enthusiasm,&rdquo; he remarked contemptuously,
+as he made his way towards the
+door. &ldquo;Where the cleverest detectives in England
+have failed, you hope to succeed. Well, I wish
+you success. The rascal deserves to swing, certainly.
+You will hear further from me in a day
+or two. Good-morning!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He left the room abruptly and I followed him,
+stepping bareheaded out into the sunshine to look
+about for Jim, who was leading his horse up and
+down the road.</p>
+<p>When I returned, Mr. Ravenor was still standing
+upon the doorstep watching me intently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going back to speak to your mother for
+a moment,&rdquo; he said slowly, withdrawing his eyes
+from my face at last. &ldquo;No; stop where you
+are!&rdquo; he added imperatively. &ldquo;I wish to speak
+to her alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I obeyed him and wandered about the orchard
+until I saw him come out and gallop furiously
+away across the park. Then I hurried into the
+house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother!&rdquo; I exclaimed, calling out to her
+before I had opened the door of the parlour&mdash;&ldquo;mother,
+what do you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I stopped short and hurried to her side, alarmed
+at her appearance. Her cheeks, even her lips,
+were ashen pale and her eyes were closed. She
+had fainted in her chair.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_49">[49]</div>
+<h2 id="c8">CHAPTER VIII.
+<br /><span class="small">AN ABODE OF MYSTERY.</span></h2>
+<p>For the first time in my life I was on my way to
+Ravenor Castle, summoned there by a brief, imperious
+note from Mr. Ravenor. Often had I
+looked longingly from the distant hills of the park
+upon its grey, rugged towers and mighty battlements;
+but I had never dared to clamber over the
+high wall into the inner grounds, nor even to make
+my way up the servants&rsquo; drive to win a closer
+acquaintance with it.</p>
+<p>One reason why I had abstained from doing
+what, on the face of it, would seem a very natural
+thing to do, was a solemn promise to my mother,
+extracted from me almost as soon as I was able
+to get about by myself, never to pass within that
+great boundary-wall which completely encircled
+the inner grounds and wardens of the castle. But,
+apart from that, the thing would have been impossible
+for me, in any case.</p>
+<p>I have already said that Mr. Ravenor bore the
+character of being a remarkably eccentric man.
+Perhaps one of the most striking manifestations
+of this eccentricity lay in the rigid seclusion in
+which he chose to live while at the Castle, and the
+extraordinary precautions which he had taken to
+prevent all intruders and visitors of every sort
+from obtaining access to him.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_50">[50]</div>
+<p>From the outer part there was indeed no attempt
+to exclude anyone belonging to the neighbourhood
+who chose to ramble about there, and in Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+absence visitors who had obtained permission
+from the steward were occasionally permitted to
+drive through; but to the grounds and the Castle
+itself access was simply an impossibility. Had
+Ravenor Castle been the abode of a sovereign,
+and the country around in possession of a hostile
+people, the precautions could scarcely have been
+more rigorous.</p>
+<p>The high stone wall, which encircled the Castle
+and gardens for a circuit of three-quarters of a mile,
+effectually shut them off from the outside world.
+The postern-gates with which it was pierced were of
+solid iron, and the locks which secured them were
+said to have been fashioned by a Hindoo whom
+Mr. Ravenor had once brought home with him from
+India, and to be perfectly unique in their design and
+workmanship. The two main carriage entrances,
+about half a mile apart, were remarkable for nothing
+but the fine proportions of the towering iron gates;
+but they were always kept jealously locked and
+barred, and the fate of the uninvited guest who
+presented himself there was inevitable. There
+was no admittance.</p>
+<p>The afternoon was drawing towards a close
+when I turned the last corner of the winding
+avenue and approached the entrance. It had
+been a wild, blustering day; but just before I
+started from home the wind had dropped and a
+watery sun, feebly piercing the masses of heavy
+clouds with which the sky was strewn, was shining
+down, with a wan, unnatural glow, upon the clumps
+of fir-trees on either side of the way and the massive,
+frowning towers of the Castle close above me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_51">[51]</div>
+<p>Under foot and around me everything was wet.
+With the faintest stir of the dying breeze showers of
+raindrops fell from shrubs and trees, and at every
+step my feet sank into the soft, soaked gravel, or
+sent the moisture bubbling up from the layers of
+rotten leaves and twigs which the morning&rsquo;s gale
+had scattered along the road.</p>
+<p>It was an afternoon to damp anyone&rsquo;s spirits;
+and it was perhaps to the influence of the weather
+that I owed the sudden sinking of heart and courage
+which came over me as I slackened my pace
+before the grim-looking lodges and barred gate.
+I had started from home, notwithstanding my
+mother&rsquo;s white face and nervous, trembling manner,
+in a state of pleasurable excitement.</p>
+<p>I was about to penetrate into a mystery which
+had been the curiosity of my boyhood; I was to
+become one of those favoured few who had been
+permitted to pass within the portals of Ravenor
+Castle; and, more than that, I was about to visit
+there as the guest of a man whose marvellous
+reputation, personality, and career had kindled
+within me an almost passionate reverence&mdash;a man
+who had long been the object of my devoted,
+although boyish and unreasonable, hero-worship.
+Yet, though it would seem that I had everything
+to gain and nothing to fear or lose from the coming
+interview, no sooner had I arrived within sight of
+my destination than my spirits sank to zero.</p>
+<p>A woman would have called it a presentiment
+and have accepted it with mute despair. To me it
+seemed only an unreasonable reaction from my
+previous state of suppressed excitement&mdash;a feeling
+to be crushed at any cost, lest I should stand, with
+gloomy, unthankful face, before the man in whose
+power it lay to raise me from my present distasteful
+position and prospects. So I threw my head back
+and quickened my steps, keeping resolutely before
+me in my thoughts all that I had ventured to hope
+from my forthcoming interview; and by the time
+I stood before the great iron gates and stretched
+out my hand to ring the bell, the depression had
+almost passed away, and the eagerness which I felt
+was, no doubt, fully reflected m my countenance.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_52">[52]</div>
+<p>I had no need to ring. My last quick footstep
+had fallen upon a harder substance than the gravel
+upon which I had been walking, and the contact
+of my feet with it made my presence known in a
+manner which surprised me not a little. There
+was a shrill ringing from the lodge door on my
+right, and almost simultaneously it opened and
+a servant came out in the dark Ravenor livery.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you be so good, sir, as to step off the
+planking?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>I moved a yard or two backwards, and the bell&mdash;it
+was an electric bell, of course&mdash;instantly
+ceased. It was my first experience of any such
+means of communication, and I stood for a moment
+looking down in some bewilderment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your name and business, sir?&rdquo; the man inquired
+respectfully. &ldquo;Did you wish to see Mr.
+Clemson?&rdquo; Mr. Clemson was the steward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Morton, and my business is with
+Mr. Ravenor,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I want to see him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid that Mr. Ravenor will not be able
+to see you, sir,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Have you an appointment?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; for five o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; I answered. And the
+words had scarcely left my lips before the first
+stroke of the hour boomed out from the great Castle
+clock. Perhaps, more than anything else could
+have done, that sound brought home to me the
+realisation of where I was. Hour after hour, all
+through my life, from the depths of Rothland
+Wood, from the home meadows, or in my long
+rambles over the far-away Barnwood Hills, I had
+heard those deep, throbbing chimes; sometimes
+faint and low, when the wind bore the sound away
+from me, sometimes harsh and piercing in the storm,
+and often as dear and distinct as though only a
+sheet of water stretched between us. And now I
+stood almost within a stone&rsquo;s throw of them, and
+marvelled no longer that the deep, resounding
+notes should travel so far over hill and moor that
+I had never yet been able to wander out of hearing
+of them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_53">[53]</div>
+<p>The man accepted my explanation after a
+moment&rsquo;s hesitation, and, standing aside from
+the doorway out of which he had issued, motioned
+me to enter. I did so and received a fresh surprise.
+Instead of finding myself in the home of
+one of the servants of the estate, which would
+have seemed the natural thing, I found myself
+in a most luxuriously furnished waiting-room,
+hung with mirrors and oak-framed paintings upon
+a dark panelled wall. My feet sank into a thick
+carpet, and I subsided, a little dazed, into a low,
+crimson velvet chair, and found beside me a table
+covered with magazines.</p>
+<p>The man followed me into the room, and, as he
+passed on his way to its upper end, he wheeled
+towards me a smaller table on which were decanters
+and glasses and a long box of cigarettes. Scarcely
+glancing at them, I watched him unlock a tall
+cupboard and half vanish inside it.</p>
+<p>He remained there for a space of almost five
+minutes. Then he stepped out, carefully locked
+it and advanced towards me. I fancied that
+there was a shade more respect in his manner
+and certainly some surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s servant will be here in a few
+minutes, sir, to show you the way to the Castle.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_54">[54]</div>
+<p>I thought that I could have found it very well
+by myself, but, of course, I could not say so. I
+occupied myself by examining the contents of the
+room, and struggled for a few moments between
+a feeling of strong curiosity and a natural disinclination
+to ask questions of a servant, especially
+one whose manner seemed so little to invite them.
+Finally the former conquered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you find that out without leaving
+this room?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>He pointed to the cupboard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have a telephone there in connection with
+the Castle, sir,&rdquo; he explained. Then he busied
+himself arranging some papers on a table at the
+other end of the apartment, with the obvious air
+of not desiring to be questioned further.</p>
+<p>The explanation was so simple that I smiled.
+I began to realise the very insufficient causes
+which had given rise to the stories which were
+always floating about concerning the mystery
+in which the master of Ravenor Castle chose to
+dwell. What more natural than that a man of
+liberal education, with a passion for absolute solitude,
+should seek to insure it by some such means
+as these, by the application of very simple scientific
+devices, common enough in a city, but unheard
+of in our quiet country neighbourhood?</p>
+<p>I was kept waiting for about a quarter of an
+hour. Then the door was opened noiselessly from
+without and a tall, dark man, clean-shaven and
+dressed in black, relieved by an immaculate white
+tie, entered and looked at me. I rose to my feet
+and threw down the magazine which I had been
+pretending to read.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are Mr. Morton?&rdquo; he inquired, in a subdued
+tone, glancing steadily at me the while with
+somewhat puzzled, criticising gaze, which, perhaps
+unreasonably, annoyed me extremely. It was an
+annoyance which I took pains not to show, however,
+for something about the personality of the
+man impressed me. His manner, though studiously
+respectful, was not without a certain quiet dignity,
+and his thin oval face&mdash;thin almost to emaciation&mdash;had
+in it more than a suspicion of refinement.
+My first glance, whilst I was undergoing his brief
+scrutiny, assured me that this was no ordinary
+servant.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my name,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;You have
+come to take me to Mr. Ravenor?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you will be so good as to follow me, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I took up my cap and did so, taking long, swinging
+strides up the steep ascent, hoping thereby
+to gain his side and ask him a few questions about
+the place. But he prevented this by hurrying on
+when I was close behind him; so, after the third
+attempt I gave it up, and contented myself by
+looking around me as much as I could, and making
+the most of the short walk.</p>
+<p>On one side of the drive&mdash;I had been along few
+highways as wide&mdash;was a tall yew hedge, which
+shut out little from my view, for the thick black
+pine-wood which overtopped and formed so striking
+a background to the grand old Castle had never
+been thinned in this direction, and stretched away
+in a wide, irregular belt, skirting the long line of
+out-buildings to the hills and beyond. But on
+the right hand only a low ring-fence separated us
+from the grounds immediately in front of the Castle,
+which a sudden bend in the sharply winding road
+brought into full view.</p>
+<p>My absolute ignorance of architecture forbids
+my attempting to describe it, save in its general
+effect. I remember even now what that effect was
+upon me when I stood for the first time almost at
+its foot. At a distance its frowning battlements
+and worn grey turrets had a majestic appearance;
+but, standing as I did then, within a few hundred
+yards of its vast, imposing front, and almost under
+the shadow of its walls and towers, its effect was
+nothing short of awe-inspiring.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div>
+<p>I almost held my breath as I gazed upon it
+and the terrace lawns, sloping away below, smooth-shaven,
+velvetty, the very perfection of English
+turf. Not that I had much time to look about
+me. On the contrary, my conductor never once
+slackened his pace, and when I involuntarily
+paused for a moment, with eyes riveted upon the
+magnificent pile before me, he looked round sharply
+and beckoned me impatiently to proceed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor is not used to be kept waiting,
+sir,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;and will be expecting us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I pulled myself together with an effort and
+followed him more closely. We passed under a
+bridge of solid masonry, moss-encrusted, and indented
+with the storms of ages and the ruder
+marks of battering-ram and cannon, across a wide,
+circular courtyard protected by massive iron gates,
+which rolled slowly open before us with many ponderous
+creakings and gratings, as though reluctant
+to admit a stranger, into a great, white, stone-paved
+hall, dimly lighted, yet sufficiently so to
+enable me to perceive the long rows of armoured
+warriors which lined the walls, and the lances and
+spears and shields which flashed above their
+heads.</p>
+<p>We passed straight across it, our footsteps
+awakening clattering echoes as they fell on the
+polished flags, through a door on the opposite side,
+into a room which nearly took my breath away.
+From the high, vaulted ceiling to the floor, on
+every side of the apartment, were books&mdash;nothing
+but books.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div>
+<p>Two men&mdash;one old, the other of about my own
+age&mdash;looked up from a table as we entered and
+paused in their work, which seemed to be cataloguing;
+but my guide passed them without remark
+or notice, and walked straight across the
+room to where a crimson curtain, hanging down
+in thick folds, concealed a black oak door. Here
+he knocked, and I waited by his side until the
+answer came in that clear, low tone, which, though
+I had heard it but once or twice before, I could
+have recognised in a thousand. Then my guide
+turned the handle and, silently motioning me to
+enter, left me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div>
+<h2 id="c9">CHAPTER IX.
+<br /><span class="small">MR. MARX.</span></h2>
+<p>At first I had eyes only for the dark figure seated
+a few yards away from me at a small writing-table
+drawn into the centre of the room. He was bending
+low over his desk and never even raised his
+eyes or ceased writing at my entrance. Before
+him on the table, and scattered around his chair
+on the floor, were many sheets of white foolscap
+covered with his broad, firm handwriting, some
+with the ink scarcely dry upon them; and
+while I stood before him he impatiently swept
+another one from his desk and, without waiting
+to see it flutter to the ground, began a fresh
+sheet.</p>
+<p>A glass of water, a few dry biscuits, and a little
+pile of books&mdash;some turned face-downwards&mdash;were
+by his side. Nothing else was on the table, save
+a great pile of unused paper, a watch detached
+from its chain, and a heavily-shaded lamp, which
+threw a ghastly light upon his white, worn face,
+and his dry, brilliant eyes, under which were faintly
+engraven the dark rims of the student.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div>
+<p>I watched him for a while, fascinated. Then,
+as he took not the slightest notice of me, my
+eyes began to wander round the room. It was
+hexagonal and, on every side save one, lined from
+the floor to the high ceiling with books. The
+furniture was all of black oak, as also were the
+bookshelves, and the carpet and hangings were
+of a deep olive-green. The mantelpiece and inlaid
+grate were of black marble, faintly relieved
+with gold, and within the polished bars of the
+grate a small fire was burning.</p>
+<p>There was nothing cheerful about the apartment;
+on the contrary, it struck me as being,
+though magnificent, sombre and heavy, wrapped
+as it was in the gloom of a dismal twilight, which
+the flickering fire and the shaded lamp failed to
+pierce. From the high French windows, I could
+catch a glimpse of a long stretch of soddened
+lawn, beyond which everything was shrouded in the
+semi-obscurity of the fast-falling dusk, deepened by
+the grey, cloudy sky. But I chose, after my first
+glance around the room, to keep my eyes fixed
+upon the man who sat writing before me, the man
+in whom already I felt an interest so strong as to
+deaden all the curiosity which I might otherwise
+have felt as to my surroundings.</p>
+<p>At last he seemed conscious of my presence.
+Lifting his eyes, to give them a momentary rest,
+he encountered my fixed gaze. For a moment he
+looked at me in a puzzled manner, as though wondering
+how I came there. Then his expression changed
+and, putting down his pen, he pushed his papers
+away from him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you have come, Philip Morton,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>To so self-evident a statement I could return
+no answer, save a brief affirmative. He seemed
+to expect nothing more, however.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How old did you say you were?&rdquo; he asked
+abruptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Seventeen, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was quite five minutes before he spoke again,
+during which time he sat with knitted brows and
+eyes fixed intently but absently upon me, deep in
+thought, and thought of which it seemed to me
+somehow that I must be the subject.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Where were you born?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the farm, sir&mdash;at least, I suppose so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It flashed into my mind at that moment that I
+had never heard the period of my earliest childhood
+spoken of either by my father or mother.
+But it was only a passing thought, dismissed almost
+as soon as conceived. Had we not always lived
+at the farm? Where else could I have been born?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know any of your mother&rsquo;s relations?&rdquo;
+Mr. Ravenor asked, taking no notice of the qualifying
+addition to my previous answer.</p>
+<p>I shook my head. I had never seen or heard
+of any of them, and it was a circumstance upon
+which I had more than once pondered. But my
+mother&rsquo;s reserved demeanour towards me of late
+years had checked many questions which I might
+otherwise have felt inclined to ask her. There
+was a brief silence, during which Mr. Ravenor
+sat with his face half turned away from me, resting
+it lightly upon the long, delicate fingers of his
+left hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a little young for college,&rdquo; he said
+presently, in a more matter-of-fact tone; &ldquo;besides
+which, I doubt whether you are quite advanced
+enough. I have decided, therefore, to
+send you for two years to a clergyman in Lincolnshire
+who receives a few pupils, my own nephew
+among them. He is a friend of mine, and will
+give some shape to your studies. There are one
+or two things which I shall ask you to remember
+when you get there,&rdquo; he went on.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;First, that this little arrangement between
+your mother, yourself, and me remains absolutely
+a secret among us. Also that you seek, or, at any
+rate, do not refuse, the friendship of my nephew,
+Cecil, Lord Silchester. From what I can learn I fear
+that he is behaving in a most unsatisfactory manner,
+and, as I know him to be weak-minded and easily
+led, his behaviour at present and his character
+in the future are to a great extent dependent
+upon the influence which his immediate companions
+may have over him. You understand
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I assented silently, for words at that moment
+were not at my command; my cheeks were flushed,
+and my heart was beating with pleasure at the
+confidence in me which Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s words
+implied. That moment was one of the sweetest
+of my life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not, of course, wish you to play the spy
+in any way upon my nephew,&rdquo; Mr. Ravenor continued,
+&ldquo;but I shall expect you to tell me the unbiassed
+truth should I at any time ask you any
+questions concerning him; and if you think, after
+you have been there some time and have had an
+opportunity of judging, that he would be likely
+to do better elsewhere, under stricter discipline
+than at Dr. Randall&rsquo;s, I shall expect you to
+tell me so. In plain words, Philip Morton, I
+ask you to take an interest in and look after my
+nephew.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will do my best, sir,&rdquo; I answered fervently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A youthful Mentor, very!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The words, accompanied by something closely
+resembling a sneer, came from neither Mr. Ravenor
+nor myself. Either a third person must have been
+in the room before my arrival and during the
+whole of our conversation, or he must have entered
+it since by some means unknown to me, for almost
+at my elbow, on the side remote from the door,
+stood the man who had broken in, without apology
+or explanation, upon our interview.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div>
+<p>Both from the strange manner of his attire and
+on account of his personality, I could not repress
+a strong curiosity in the new-comer. He was
+above the average height, but of awkward and
+ungainly figure, its massiveness enhanced by the
+long black dressing-gown which was wrapped loosely
+around him. His hair and beard were of a deep
+reddish hue, the former partly concealed by a
+black silk skull-cap, and he wore thick blue
+spectacles, which by no means added to the attractiveness
+of his face; his features&mdash;those which
+were visible&mdash;were good, but their effect was completely
+spoilt by the disfiguring glasses and his
+curious complexion. There was an air of power
+about him difficult to analyse, but sufficiently
+apparent, which altogether redeemed him from
+coarseness, or even mediocrity; and his voice,
+too, was good. But my impressions concerning
+him were very mixed ones.</p>
+<p>He was evidently someone of account in the
+household, for he stood on the hearthrug with his
+hands thrust into his loose pockets, completely
+at his ease, and without making any apology for
+his unceremonious appearance. When I first
+turned to look at him he was examining me with
+a cold, critical stare, which made me feel uncomfortable
+without knowing why.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the young gentleman?&rdquo; he asked,
+turning to Mr. Ravenor. &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you introduce
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor took up some papers lying on the
+table before him and began to sort them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is Philip Morton, the son of the man who
+was murdered in Rothland Wood,&rdquo; he answered
+quietly. &ldquo;I am going to undertake his education.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! You&rsquo;re becoming quite a philanthropist,&rdquo;
+was the reply. &ldquo;But why not send him
+to a public school at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Because a public school would be just the
+worst place for him,&rdquo; Mr. Ravenor answered coldly.
+&ldquo;His education has been good enough up to now,
+I dare say, but it has not been systematic. It
+wants shape and proportion, and Dr. Randall is
+just the man to see to that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The new-comer shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe in private tutors,&rdquo; he remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That scarcely affects the question,&rdquo; Mr. Ravenor
+answered, a little haughtily. &ldquo;Are you ready
+for me, Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be presently. I had very nearly finished
+when the sound of voices tempted me out to see
+whom you had admitted into your august presence.
+You have not completed the introduction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor turned to me with a slight frown
+upon his fine forehead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Morton,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this is Mr. Marx, my private
+secretary and collaborator.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We exchanged greetings, and I looked at him
+with revived interest. The man who was worthy
+to work with Mr. Ravenor must be a scholar indeed,
+and, on the whole, Mr. Marx looked it. I
+almost forgave him his supercilious speech and
+patronising manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have quite settled, then, to send this
+young man to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s?&rdquo; Mr. Marx said
+calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have. There are one or two more matters
+which I have not yet mentioned to him, so I shall
+be glad to see you again in half an hour,&rdquo; Mr.
+Ravenor remarked, glancing at his watch.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx nodded to me in a not unfriendly
+manner, and, lifting a curtain, which I had not
+noticed before, disappeared into a smaller apartment.</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor waited until he was out of hearing
+and then turned towards me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know whether it is necessary for me
+to mention it, as you may possibly not come into
+contact again,&rdquo; he said slowly; &ldquo;but in case
+you should do so, remember this: I wish you to
+have as little to do with Mr. Marx as possible.
+You&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He broke off suddenly and I started and looked
+round, half amazed, half frightened. The continuous
+sound of an electric-bell, which seemed
+to come from within a few feet of me, was echoing
+through the room.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div>
+<h2 id="c10">CHAPTER X.
+<br /><span class="small">LADY SILCHESTER.</span></h2>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor sat like a man stunned by a sudden
+shock, while the shrill ringing grew more and more
+imperative. Then suddenly, when I least expected
+it, he spoke, and the fact that his calm,
+even tone betrayed not the slightest sign of agitation
+or anything approaching to it, was a great
+relief to me. After all, his silence might have meant
+indifference.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go over there,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the corner
+of the room from which the sound came.</p>
+<p>I did so and saw just before me what seemed
+to be a dark mahogany box let into the wall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Touch that knob,&rdquo; he commanded, &ldquo;and put
+your ear to the tube.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I had scarcely done so when a quick, agitated
+voice, which I recognised as the voice of the man
+who had admitted me at the lodge gate, began
+speaking. I repeated his words to Mr. Ravenor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am very sorry, sir; but while I stepped in
+here to announce her, Lady Silchester has driven
+through. She is alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor made no sign of annoyance or surprise.
+I could not tell whether the news was a
+relief to him, or the reverse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is there any answer, sir?&rdquo; I inquired.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Tell him to come to the steward for his
+wages in an hour&rsquo;s time and be prepared to leave
+this evening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated and then repeated the words. Mr.
+Ravenor watched me keenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are thinking that I am a stern master,&rdquo;
+he said abruptly.</p>
+<p>It was exactly what had been passing through
+my mind and I confessed it. He shrugged his
+shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I like to be obeyed implicitly, and to the letter,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;If a quarter of the people who present
+themselves here to see me were allowed to pass
+through to my Castle, my leisure, which is of some
+value to me, would be continually broken in upon.
+Anderson has been careful hitherto, however, and
+this must be a lesson to him. You can tell him
+as you go out that I will give him one more chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I rose, with my cap in hand, but he waved me
+back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have a letter to write to your mother,&rdquo; he
+said, drawing some notepaper towards him. &ldquo;Wait
+a minute or two.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I strolled over to the high French windows and
+looked out upon the grey twilight. I had scarcely
+stood there for a moment when the sound of horses&rsquo;
+feet and smoothly rolling wheels coming up the
+broad drive told me that Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s visitor
+was at hand, and immediately afterwards a small
+brougham flashed past the window and, describing
+a semi-circle, pulled up in front of the hall door.
+A footman leaped down from the box and several
+servants stood on the steps and respectfully saluted
+the lady who had alighted from the carriage. A
+moment or two later there was a knock at the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; answered Mr. Ravenor, without
+looking up, or even ceasing his writing, for I could
+hear the broad quill dashing away without a pause
+over the notepaper.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div>
+<p>A servant threw open the door and announced
+&ldquo;Lady Silchester,&rdquo; and a tall woman, wrapped
+from head to foot in dark brown furs, swept past
+him and entered the room.</p>
+<p>A single glance at the slim, majestic figure, and
+at the classical outline of her face, told me who
+she was and told me rightly. It was Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+sister.</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor rose and, without putting his pen
+down, welcomed Lady Silchester with cold, frigid
+courtesy, which she seemed determined, however,
+not to notice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quite an unexpected visit, this, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; she
+exclaimed, sinking into an easy chair before the
+fire with a little shiver. &ldquo;I never was so cold!
+These autumn mists are awful, and I&rsquo;ve had a
+twelve-mile drive. What a dreary room you have
+made of this!&rdquo; she added, looking round with
+a little shrug of her shoulders and putting her
+hands farther into her muff. &ldquo;How can you sit
+here in this ghostly light with only one lamp&mdash;and
+such a fire, too?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled grimly, but it was not a smile which
+heralded any increase of geniality in his manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not in the habit of receiving ladies here,&rdquo;
+he remarked, &ldquo;and I did not expect you. Where
+have you come from? I thought you were in
+Rome.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish we were. We came back last week
+and I went straight down to the Cedars&mdash;Tom&rsquo;s
+place at Melton, you know. I don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;ve
+been warm since I landed in England. Just now
+I&rsquo;m nearly frozen to death.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you would find one of the rooms in
+the other wing more comfortable,&rdquo; he said, after
+a short pause; &ldquo;besides which I am engaged at
+present. You dine here, of course?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;By all means,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t
+send me back to Melton dinnerless, would you,
+even if I have come without an invitation? I am
+dying for a cup of tea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs. Ross shall send you anything you want,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I will ring for her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She rose and shook out her skirts. Her eyes fell
+upon me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have a visitor,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+sorry I disturbed you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at me fixedly as I moved a few steps
+forward out of the deep shadows which hung about
+the further end of the apartment. Then she turned
+from me to Mr. Ravenor, who was holding open
+the door for her. He met her gaze steadily, with
+a calm, inquiring look in his deep eyes, as though
+wondering why she lingered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you introduce your visitor?&rdquo; she asked
+slowly.</p>
+<p>He appeared wishful for her to go, yet resigned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;if you wish it.
+Cecilia, let me present to you Mr. Philip Morton,
+the son of a former neighbour of mine. You may
+be interested to hear that Mr. Morton is about to
+complete his education with Dr. Randall. Morton,
+this is my sister, Lady Silchester.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lady Silchester held up a pair of gold eye-glasses
+and looked at me steadily. I was not used to
+ladies, but Lady Silchester&rsquo;s manner did not please
+me, and, after a very slight bow, I drew myself
+up and returned her gaze without flinching. She
+turned abruptly away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am interested&mdash;a little surprised,&rdquo; she
+said, in a peculiar tone. &ldquo;Let me congratulate
+you, my dear brother, on&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did I understand you to say that you would
+be ready in a quarter of an hour, Cecilia?&rdquo; he
+interrupted calmly. &ldquo;Permit me to order your
+horses to be put up.&rdquo; And he moved across the
+room towards the bell and rang it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_69">[69]</div>
+<p>She hesitated, bit her lip, and turned towards
+the door without another word. A servant stood
+upon the threshold, summoned by the bell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let Mrs. Ross attend Lady Silchester at once,&rdquo;
+Mr. Ravenor ordered. &ldquo;Her ladyship will take
+tea in her room, and will dine with me in the library
+at half-past eight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The door was closed and we were alone again.
+Mr. Ravenor returned to his letter, with his lips
+slightly parted in a quiet smile. I stood still, hot
+and uncomfortable, wondering in what possible
+manner I could have offended Lady Silchester.
+The meaning of the little scene which had just
+taken place was beyond my comprehension. But I
+knew that it had a meaning, and that I was somehow
+concerned in it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_70">[70]</div>
+<h2 id="c11">CHAPTER XI.
+<br /><span class="small">THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.</span></h2>
+<p>The letter which Mr. Ravenor had been writing
+to my mother was finished and sealed at last. Then
+he leaned back in his chair and looked steadily at
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not see you again before you go, Philip
+Morton,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;so I wish to impress upon you
+once more what I said to you about my nephew,
+who is Lady Silchester&rsquo;s son, by-the-bye. I know
+that he is going on badly, but I wish to know how
+badly. Unfortunately, he has no father, and, from
+what I can remember of him, I should imagine
+that he is quite easily led, and would be very amenable
+to the influence of a stronger mind. If yours
+should be that mind&mdash;and I do not see why it
+should not&mdash;it will be well for him. That delightfully
+Utopian optimism of yours is, at any
+rate, healthy,&rdquo; he added dryly.</p>
+<p>I felt my cheeks burn and would have spoken,
+but Mr. Ravenor checked me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_71">[71]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Let there be no misunderstanding between us,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I desire no gratitude from you and I
+deserve none. What I am doing I am doing for
+my own gratification&mdash;perhaps for my own ultimate
+advantage. That you are a gainer by it is purely
+a matter of chance. The whim might just as well
+have been the other way. I might have taken a
+fancy to have you turned out of the place and, if
+so, I would have done it. On the whole, it is I
+who should be grateful to you for not baulking me in
+my scheme and for letting me have my own way.
+So understand, please, after this explanation, that
+I shall look upon any expression of gratitude from
+you as a glaring mark of imbecility, apart from
+which it will annoy me exceedingly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I listened in silence. What could one reply to
+such a strange way of putting a case? Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+manner forbade any doubt as to his seriousness
+and I could only respect his wishes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As you won&rsquo;t let me thank you, sir, I think
+I&rsquo;d better go,&rdquo; I said bluntly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure to forget
+if I stay here much longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A good discipline for you to stay, then,&rdquo; he
+answered.</p>
+<p>Again the tinkle of the telephone bell rang out
+from the corner and interrupted his speech. Mr.
+Ravenor motioned me towards it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go and hear what it is and repeat it to me,&rdquo;
+he said.</p>
+<p>I put my ear to the tube and repeated the words
+as they came:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A man desires to see you, sir, but refuses to
+give his name. I have told him that it is quite
+useless my communicating with you without it;
+but he is persistent and refuses to go away. He
+is respectably dressed, but rather rough-looking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor shrugged his shoulders and took
+up his pen, as though about to resume his writing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell him to go to the deuce!&rdquo; he said briefly.</p>
+<p>I repeated the message faithfully, but its
+recipient was evidently not satisfied. In less than
+a minute the bell sounded again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His name is Richards, sir&mdash;or, rather, he says
+he is known to you by that name&mdash;and he is very
+emphatic about seeing you&mdash;and, begging your
+pardon, sir, a little insolent. He says that his
+business is of the utmost importance.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_72">[72]</div>
+<p>I repeated the message and stood as though
+turned to stone. Was my fancy playing tricks
+with me in the dimly-lit room, or had Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+face really become ghastly and livid, like the face
+of a man who sees the phantom shadows of a hideous
+nightmare passing before his fixed gaze? I closed
+my eyes for a moment&rsquo;s relief and looked again.
+Surely it had been fancy! Mr. Ravenor was writing
+with only a slight frown upon his calm, serene face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let Mr. Richards&mdash;or whatever the fellow&rsquo;s
+name is&mdash;be given to understand that I distinctly
+refuse to see him,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;If he has
+any business with me he can write.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I repeated this and then took up my cap to go.
+Mr. Ravenor put down his pen and walked with
+me to the door. I had expected that he would
+have offered me his hand, but he did not. He
+nodded, kindly enough and held the door open
+while I passed out. So I went.</p>
+<p>As I walked across the great hall on my way
+out I came face to face with Lady Silchester, who
+was thoughtfully contemplating one of a long line
+of oil-paintings dark with age, yet vivid still with
+the marvellous colouring of an old master. To my
+surprise she stopped me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you a judge of pictures, Mr. Morton?&rdquo;
+she asked. &ldquo;I was wondering whether that was a
+genuine Reynolds.&rdquo; And she pointed to the picture
+which she had been examining.</p>
+<p>I shook my head, briefly acknowledging that I
+knew nothing whatever about them. I was quite
+conscious at the time that the question was only
+a feint. What was a farmer&rsquo;s son likely to know
+of the old masters?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_73">[73]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, never mind!&rdquo; she remarked, shutting up
+her eyeglasses with a snap. &ldquo;I can ask Mr. Ravenor
+this evening. I thought, perhaps, that as
+you were here so often he might have talked to
+you about them. I know that he is very proud
+of his pictures.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had I been here often he might have done so,&rdquo;
+I answered. &ldquo;As it happens, however, this is my
+first visit to Ravenor Castle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed? And yet Mr. Ravenor seems to take
+a great interest in you. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated and wished that I could get away;
+but Lady Silchester was standing immediately in
+front of me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your ladyship will pardon me,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;but
+might not your question be better addressed to
+Mr. Ravenor?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She bit her lip and moved haughtily to one
+side. I made a movement as though to pass her,
+but she turned suddenly and prevented me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton,&rdquo; she said, a little nervously, &ldquo;my
+brother said that you were going to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s,
+I believe?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I admitted that such was the fact.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay you know that my son is there,&rdquo;
+she continued, &ldquo;and I am afraid he&rsquo;s not behaving
+exactly as he should. Of course, we don&rsquo;t hear
+anything definite; but Cecil is very good-natured,
+easily led into anything, and I am a little doubtful
+about his companions there. Now, Mr. Morton,
+you&rsquo;re not much more than a boy yourself, of
+course; but you don&rsquo;t look as though you would
+care for the sort of thing that I&rsquo;m afraid Cecil
+gets led into. I do wish that you and he could
+be friends, and that&mdash;that&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She broke off, as though expecting me to say
+something, and I felt a little awkward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very kind of you to think so well of me,
+when you don&rsquo;t know anything about me,&rdquo; I said,
+twirling my cap in my hands; &ldquo;but you forget
+that I am only a farmer&rsquo;s son, and perhaps your
+son would not care to be friends with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_74">[74]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;My son, whatever his faults may be, has all
+the instincts of a gentleman,&rdquo; Lady Silchester
+answered proudly; &ldquo;and if he liked you for yourself,
+it would make no difference, even if you were
+a tradesman&rsquo;s son. Promise me that, if you have
+the opportunity, you will do what you can?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes; I&rsquo;ll promise that, with pleasure!&rdquo;
+I assured her.</p>
+<p>Lady Silchester smiled, and while the smile
+lasted I thought that I had never seen a more
+beautiful woman. Then she held out a delicate
+little hand, sparkling with rings, and placed it in
+mine, which in those days was as brown as a berry
+and not very soft.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you so much, Mr. Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked up at me quite kindly for a moment.
+Then suddenly her manner completely&mdash;changed.
+She withdrew her eyes from my face, with a slight
+flush in her cheeks, and turned abruptly away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good evening, Mr. Morton. I am much obliged
+to you for your promise,&rdquo; she said, in a colder
+tone.</p>
+<p>I drew myself up, unconscious of having said
+or done anything which could possibly offend her,
+and feeling boyishly hurt at her change of manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good evening, Lady Silchester,&rdquo; I answered,
+with all the dignity I could command. Then I
+turned away and left the Castle.</p>
+<p>I walked down the broad avenue slowly, casting
+many glances behind me at the vast, gloomy pile,
+around which the late evening mists were rising
+from the damp ground. Many lights were twinkling
+from the upper windows and from the east
+wing, where the servants&rsquo; quarters were situated,
+but the lower part of the building lay in
+a deep obscurity, unilluminated, save by one
+faint light from Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s study. There
+seemed something unnatural, almost ghostly, about
+the place, which chilled while it fascinated me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div>
+<p>What was that? I stood suddenly still in the
+middle of the drive and listened. A faint, muffled
+cry, which seemed to me at first to be a
+human cry, had broken the deep evening stillness.
+I held my breath and remained quite
+motionless, with strained hearing. There was no
+repetition of it, no other sound. I was puzzled;
+more than half inclined to be alarmed. It might
+have been the crying of a hare, or the squealing
+of a rabbit caught by a stoat. But my first impression
+had been a strong one, improbable though
+it seemed. Poachers, however daring, would
+scarcely be likely to invade the closely-guarded
+inner grounds, where the preserves were fewer
+and the risk of capture far greater than outside
+the park. Besides, there had been no discharge
+of firearms, no commotion, no loud cries; only
+that one muffled, despairing moan. What could it
+mean?</p>
+<p>A steep ascent lay before me. After a moment&rsquo;s
+hesitation I hurried forward and did not pause
+until I reached the summit and had clear view
+around through the hazy twilight.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_76">[76]</div>
+<h2 id="c12">CHAPTER XII.
+<br /><span class="small">A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.</span></h2>
+<p>Far away below me&mdash;for Ravenor Castle stood on
+the highest point in the country&mdash;a dull-red glow
+in the sky, and many twinkling lights stretched
+far and wide, marked the place where a great town
+lay. On my right hand was a smooth stretch of
+green turf, dotted all over with thickly growing
+spreading oak trees. On the left was a straggling
+plantation, bounded by a low greystone wall, which
+sloped down gradually to one of the bracken-covered,
+disused slate-quarries, with which the
+neighbourhood abounded.</p>
+<p>Breathless, I stood still and looked searchingly
+around. Save in the immediate vicinity, the fast
+falling night had blotted out the view, reducing
+fields, woods, and rocks to one blurred chaotic
+mass. But where my eye could pierce the darkness
+I could see no sign of any moving object. By
+degrees my apprehension grew less strong. The
+cry, if it had not been wholly a trick of the
+imagination, must have been the cry of some
+animal. I drew a long breath of relief and moved
+forward again.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div>
+<p>Immediately in front of me the avenue curved
+through a small plantation of fir trees, which,
+growing thick and black on either side, made it
+appear almost as though I were confronted with
+a tunnel; around its mouth the darkness was intense,
+but my eyesight, always good, had by this
+time become quite accustomed to the uncertain
+light, and just as I was entering it I fancied that
+I could see something moving only a few yards in
+front of me. I stopped short at once and waited,
+peering forwards into the gloom with straining
+eyes and beating heart. My suspense, though
+keen, was not of long duration, for almost immediately
+the dark shape resolved itself into the figure
+of a man moving swiftly towards me.</p>
+<p>My first impulse was, I am afraid, to turn and
+run for it, my next to give the advancing figure
+as wide a berth as possible. With that idea I
+stepped swiftly on one side and leaned right back
+against the ring fence which bordered the drive.
+But I was too late, or too clumsy in my movements,
+to escape notice. With a quick, startled
+exclamation, the man whom I had nearly run into
+stopped and, just at that moment the moon,
+which had been struggling up from behind a
+thick mass of angry clouds, shone feebly out and
+showed me the white, scared face of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+secretary.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It seemed to me as though the ejaculation was
+hurled out from those trembling lips. Then, with
+a sudden start, he recovered himself, and so changed
+was his manner that I could almost have fancied
+that his first emotion of terror had been imagination
+on my part.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Am I so formidable that you should leap out
+of my way as though you had seen a ghost?&rdquo; he
+said, with a short laugh. &ldquo;Come, come; a young
+man of your size should have more pluck than
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I felt rather ashamed of myself, but I answered
+him as carelessly as possible.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I was any more startled than
+you were. We came upon one another suddenly,
+and it&rsquo;s a very dark night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dark! Dark is not the word. This part of
+the drive is a veritable Hades.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, Mr. Marx,&rdquo; I remarked, &ldquo;I fancied
+that I heard a cry a few min&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A cry! What sort of a cry?&rdquo; he interrupted
+sharply, in an altered tone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it sounded to me very much like the
+moan of a man in pain,&rdquo; I explained, looking half
+fearfully around. &ldquo;Of course, it might have been
+a hare, but it was wonderfully like a human voice.
+Listen! Can&rsquo;t you hear something now?&rdquo; I
+cried, laying my hand upon his arm.</p>
+<p>We stood close together in silence, listening intently.
+A faint wind had sprung up, and was
+sighing mournfully through the trees, which
+were soaked and weighed down by the heavy
+rain. Drip, drip, drip. At every sigh of the breeze
+a little shower of rain-drops fell pattering on to
+the soddened leaves and the melancholy music was
+resumed.</p>
+<p>It was altogether very depressing and I was
+palpably shivering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can hear nothing,&rdquo; he said, with chattering
+teeth. &ldquo;It must have been your fancy, or a hare
+squealing, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; I admitted, glad enough to be
+forced into this conclusion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t say anything about it at the lodge,&rdquo;
+he remarked, preparing to depart. &ldquo;Anderson is
+as nervous as a cat already.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, I won&rsquo;t. Good night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not frightened, are you?&rdquo; he asked.
+&ldquo;If you like, I&rsquo;ll walk down to the lodge with
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Not in the least, thanks,&rdquo; I answered, a little
+indignantly. &ldquo;I thought that noise was queer,
+that&rsquo;s all. Good night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I walked swiftly away, listening all the time,
+but hearing no unusual sound. In a few minutes
+I reached the gates and found Anderson waiting
+about outside. He let me through at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I go in here for a minute?&rdquo; I asked,
+pointing to the room in which I had been kept
+waiting on my way up to the Castle. &ldquo;I have a
+message to give you from Mr. Ravenor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, sir,&rdquo; he answered, opening the door.
+I stepped inside, half expecting to see the man
+whom Mr. Ravenor had refused to receive; but it
+was quite empty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So Mr. Richards has decided not to wait, after
+all?&rdquo; I remarked, looking round. &ldquo;He was wise.
+I&rsquo;m sure Mr. Ravenor wouldn&rsquo;t have seen him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; the man answered; &ldquo;he slipped out
+without leaving any message or anything, while
+I had gone across the way for some coal. I was
+a bit taken aback when I returned and found the
+place empty, for he&rsquo;d been swearing ever so a
+minute or two before that he&rsquo;d see Mr. Ravenor,
+or stop here for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t have gone on up to the Castle, can
+he?&rdquo; I asked, looking around.</p>
+<p>The man shook his head confidently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible, sir! The gates were locked and
+the keys in my pocket, and there are no windows
+to this room, you see, on the Castle side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there is a door,&rdquo; I said, pointing to the
+upper end of the apartment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go and look at it, sir,&rdquo; Anderson answered,
+smiling.</p>
+<p>I did so and examined it closely. There were
+no bolts, but it was fastened with a particularly
+strong patent lock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who keeps the key?&rdquo; I inquired.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor, sir. I haven&rsquo;t got one at all.
+You were saying something about a message?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Mr. Ravenor was annoyed with you for
+letting Lady Silchester through, but he has decided
+to overlook it this time. You need not go
+up to the Castle for your money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man was evidently pleased.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;m very much obliged to you, sir,&rdquo;
+he said warmly. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s good news and no mistake.
+It isn&rsquo;t a place that one would care to lose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, good night, Anderson. Oh, I say,&rdquo; I
+added, turning back on a sudden impulse, &ldquo;how
+long is it since Mr. Marx was here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Anderson looked puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Marx, sir! Why, I haven&rsquo;t seen him all
+day!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t seen him all day. He hasn&rsquo;t been
+here,&rdquo; the man repeated.</p>
+<p>I stood still, breathless, full of swiftly rising but
+vague suspicions.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not seen him to-day! Why, I met him in
+the avenue just now,&rdquo; I declared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay, sir,&rdquo; the man remarked quietly.
+&ldquo;He often walks down this way. In fact, he does
+most evenings before dinner. Queer sort he is, and
+no mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man&rsquo;s words changed the current of my
+thoughts, and my half-conceived suspicions faded
+away almost before they had gathered shape. I
+made some trifling remark and started homewards.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div>
+<h2 id="c13">CHAPTER XIII.
+<br /><span class="small">THE CLOUD BETWEEN US.</span></h2>
+<p>It was late when I reached home and, from the
+darkness in all the windows, I concluded that my
+mother and the one country domestic who comprised
+our little household had already retired.
+My hand was raised to rap at the closed door,
+when it occurred to me that I might just as well
+effect an entrance without disturbing anyone. Our
+sitting-room window opened on to the front garden
+in which I stood and was seldom fastened, so I
+stole softly over the sodden grass and pressed the
+sash upwards. It yielded easily to my touch and,
+gently raising myself on to the low stone window-sill,
+I vaulted into the room.</p>
+<p>At first I thought it was, as I had expected to
+find it, empty. But it was not so. Through the
+open window by which I had just entered the
+moonlight was streaming in, casting long, fantastic
+rays upon the well-worn carpet and across the
+quaint, old-fashioned furniture and on the white
+tablecloth, on which my homely evening meal had
+been left prepared. But my eyes never rested for
+a moment on any of these familiar objects, scarcely
+even noticed them, for another and a stranger sight
+held me spellbound. At the farther end of the room,
+where the shadows hung darkest and the moonbeams
+but feebly penetrated, was the kneeling
+figure of a woman.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div>
+<p>Her perfectly black dress threw the ghastly hue
+of her strained, wild face into startling prominence,
+and her slender arms were stretched passionately
+upwards in a gesture full of intense dramatic pathos.
+Her eyes were fixed upon a small ebony crucifix
+which hung against the wall, and the words were
+bursting from her white, trembling lips, but whether
+of prayer or confession, I could not, or, rather,
+would not, hear, for I closed my eyes and the
+sound of her voice reached me only in an indistinct
+moan. It was a sight which has lived in my memory
+and will never fade.</p>
+<p>Since that awful night in Rothland Wood, my
+mother&rsquo;s behaviour towards me had been a source
+of constant and painful wonder. She had become
+an enigma, and an enigma which I somehow felt
+that it would be well for me not to attempt to
+solve.</p>
+<p>But even at the times when my loveless surroundings
+and her coldness had plunged me into
+the lowest depths of depression, it had never been
+an altogether hopeless state, for somehow I had
+always felt that her coldness was not the coldness
+of indifference, but rather an effort of will, and
+that a time would come when she would cast it
+off and be to me again the mother of my earlier
+recollections. But the change was long in coming.</p>
+<p>She was a devout Roman Catholic&mdash;a religion in
+which I had not been brought up&mdash;and in all
+weathers and at all times of the year, she paid
+long and frequent visits to the monastery chapel
+over the hills. But to see her as she was now was
+a revelation to me. I had seen her pray before,
+but never like this. She had always seemed to me
+more of a martyr than a sinner and her prayers
+more the prayers of reverent devotion than of
+passionate supplication. But her attitude at this
+moment, her wild, haggard face, and imploring
+eyes, were full of revelation to me. Another possible
+explanation of her lonely, joyless life and
+deep religious devotion flashed in upon me. Might
+it not be the dreary expiation, the hard penance
+of her church meted out for sin?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div>
+<p>Half fearing to disturb her, I remained for a
+brief while silent, but, as the minutes went on,
+the sight of her agony was too much for me and
+I cried out to her:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, I am here. I did not know that you
+were up! I came in through the window!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the first sound of my appealing tones her
+face changed, as though frozen suddenly from
+passionate expressiveness to cold marble. Slowly
+she rose to her feet and confronted me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, are you in trouble?&rdquo; I said softly,
+moving nearer to her; &ldquo;cannot I share your
+sorrow? Cannot I comfort you? Why am I
+shut out of your life so? Tell me this great trouble
+of yours and let me share it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For many years I had longed to say these
+words to her, but the cold impressiveness of
+her manner had checked them often upon my
+lips and thrust them back to my aching heart.
+Now, when a great sorrow filled her face with
+a softer light and loosened for a moment its
+hard, rigid lines, I dared to yield to the impulse
+which I had so often felt&mdash;and, alas! in vain&mdash;in
+vain!</p>
+<p>Keener agony, deeper disappointment, I have
+never felt. Coldness and indifference had been
+hard to bear, but what came now was worse. She
+shrank back from me&mdash;shrank back, with her
+hands outstretched towards me and her head
+averted.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, I did not know that you were here.
+I cannot talk to you now. Go to your room. To-morrow&mdash;to-morrow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her voice died away, but her sudden weakness
+inspired me with no hope, for it was a physical
+weakness only. There were no signs of softening
+in her face, no answering tenderness in her tones.
+So what could I do but go?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div>
+<h2 id="c14">CHAPTER XIV.
+<br /><span class="small">A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.</span></h2>
+<p>It was eleven o&rsquo;clock on the following morning.
+I had been reading in the garden for some time,
+and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when
+a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate,
+and Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s servant&mdash;the man who had
+conducted me from the lodge to the Castle&mdash;was
+shown into the house. I went to him at once
+and he handed me a note.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir,&rdquo; he said
+respectfully.</p>
+<p>I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox
+commencement):</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before going to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s there are a few
+things which you are not likely to have which
+you will find necessary. Remember that it is
+part of the education which I intend for you
+that you should associate with the other pupils
+on equal terms. Therefore, be so good as to go
+into Torchester with Reynolds and place yourself
+entirely in his hands. He has my full instructions.&mdash;R.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I folded the note up and put it into my
+pocket.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Am I to come with you now?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you please, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div>
+<p>I went upstairs to get ready and in a few minutes
+was prepared to start. The groom offered me the
+reins, but I declined them and mounted instead
+to the vacant seat by his side, which Reynolds
+had silently relinquished to me.</p>
+<p>Torchester was scarcely a dozen miles from the
+farm, but, nevertheless, this was my first visit to
+it. Many a time I had looked down from Beacon
+Hill upon the wide-spreading, dirty-coloured cloud
+of smoke from its tall factory chimneys, which
+seemed like a marring blot upon the fair, peaceful
+stretch of country around, and by night at the
+dull red glow in the sky and the myriads of twinkling
+lights which showed me where it stood. But neither
+by day nor night had the scene been an attractive
+one for me. I had felt no curiosity to enter it.
+I had never even cared to figure to myself what it
+would be like.</p>
+<p>So now, for the first time in my life, I found
+myself driving through the streets of a large manufacturing
+town. It was the dinner-hour and on
+all sides the factories were disgorging streams of
+unhealthy-looking men and women and even
+children. The tramcars and omnibuses were
+crowded, the busy streets were lined with swiftly
+rolling carriages, smart-looking men, and gaily-dressed
+girls and women. Within a few yards I
+saw types of men and women so different that it
+seemed impossible that they could be of the same
+species.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the &lsquo;Bell,&rsquo; sir, where we generally put
+up,&rdquo; remarked Reynolds, at my elbow. &ldquo;You
+will have some lunch, sir, before we go into the
+town?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head, but he was quietly though
+respectfully insistent. So I let him have his way
+and allowed myself to be piloted into a long, dark
+coffee-room, where my orders, considerably augmented
+by Reynolds in transit, were received by
+a waiter whom we discovered fast asleep in an
+easy-chair, and who seemed very much surprised
+to see us.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div>
+<p>Afterwards we went out in the town, Reynolds
+and I, and began our shopping. I was measured
+at the principal tailor&rsquo;s for more clothes than
+it seemed possible for me to wear out in a
+lifetime, from riding-breeches to a dress-coat; and
+the quantity and variety of hats, boots, shirts, and
+ties which Reynolds put down as indispensable
+filled me with half-amused astonishment, although
+I had made up my mind to be surprised
+at nothing. But our shopping was not finished
+even when Reynolds, to my inexpressible relief,
+declared my wardrobe to be as complete as could
+be furnished by a provincial town. The gunsmith&rsquo;s,
+the sporting emporium, and the horse-repository
+were all visited in turn. And when we
+returned to the hotel about six o&rsquo;clock I was the
+possessor of two guns, which were a perfect revelation
+to me, a cricket-bat, a tennis racquet, a
+small gymnasium, a set of foils, and, besides other
+things, a stylish, well-built dogcart and a sound,
+useful cob.</p>
+<p>I sank into an easy-chair in the coffee-room
+and, refusing to listen to Reynold&rsquo;s suggestion as
+to the propriety of dining before setting out homewards,
+ordered a cup of tea. While the waiter
+had left the room to fetch it I strolled to the
+window to look out at the weather, which had
+been threatening for some time and on my way
+I discovered that I was not alone in the apartment.
+A man was seated at one of the further-most
+tables, dining, and as I passed he looked
+up and surveyed me with a cool, critical stare,
+which changed suddenly into a pleasant smile of
+recognition.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; he said, holding out
+his hand. &ldquo;Mr. Ravenor told me that I should
+probably come across you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot
+to accept the offered hand. Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s secretary
+was the last person whom I should have expected
+to find eating a solitary dinner in a Torchester
+hotel.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div>
+<h2 id="c15">CHAPTER XV.
+<br /><span class="small">A T&Ecirc;TE-&Agrave;-T&Ecirc;TE DINNER.</span></h2>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you been up to in Torchester, eh?
+Shopping?&rdquo; Mr. Marx inquired. I saw no reason
+for concealing anything from him, nor did I do
+so. Rather awkwardly I told him of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+note to me, and that I had been with Reynolds
+all the afternoon. Perhaps I spoke with a little
+enthusiasm of our somewhat elaborate purchases.
+At any rate, when I had finished, he laughed softly
+to himself&mdash;a long, noiseless, but not unpleasant
+laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m glad I met you,&rdquo; he said, his lips
+still twitching, as though with amusement. &ldquo;Sit
+down and have some dinner with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated, for just at that moment Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+words concerning his secretary flashed into
+my mind. Besides, I was not at all sure that I
+liked him. But, on the other hand, what alternative
+was there for me? What excuse could I
+find for declining so simple an invitation? In a
+few minutes the waiter would appear with the
+modest meal which I had ordered, and it would
+be impossible for me to order him to set it down
+in another part of the room, or to leave it and
+walk out of the hotel, just because this man was
+there. To do so would be to tell him as plainly
+as possible that I had some particular desire for
+avoiding him, and he would instantly divine that
+I was obeying a behest of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s. No; it
+was unavoidable. I had better accept his invitation,
+and, briefly, I did so.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; he said pleasantly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+queer fancy of mine, but I hate dining alone.
+Waiter, bring some more soup at once. This
+gentleman will dine with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>During dinner our conversation was interrupted.
+Hat in hand, Reynolds was standing before us,
+looking at Mr. Marx and then at me and the table
+before us with a look on his face which I did not
+altogether understand, although it annoyed me
+excessively. He spoke to me:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The dogcart has come round, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I half rose and threw down my napkin, though
+with some reluctance. I held out my hand regretfully
+to Mr. Marx, but he refused to take it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t go home with Reynolds unless
+you like,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have a brougham from
+the Castle here, and I can drop you at the farm
+on my way home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated, for the temptation to stay was strong.
+In fact, I should have accepted at once, only that
+Reynolds&rsquo;s grave, frowning face somehow reminded
+me of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s injunction. Reynolds, like a
+fool, settled the matter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think Mr. Morton had better return with
+me, sir,&rdquo; he said to Mr. Marx. &ldquo;If you are ready,
+sir,&rdquo; he added to me. &ldquo;The mare gets very fidgety
+if she&rsquo;s kept waiting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My boyish vanity was wounded to the quick
+by the style of his address, and his unwise assumption
+of authority, and I answered quickly:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better be off at once, then, Reynolds.
+I shall accept Mr. Marx&rsquo;s offer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was evidently uneasy and made one more
+effort.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think Mr. Ravenor would prefer your returning
+with me, sir,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx had been leaning back in his chair,
+sipping his coffee somewhat absently, and to all
+appearance altogether indifferent as to which way
+I should decide. He looked up now, however, and
+addressed Reynolds for the first time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How the deuce do you know anything about
+what your master would prefer?&rdquo; he said coolly.</p>
+<p>Reynolds made no answer, but looked appealingly
+at me. I chose not to see him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should imagine,&rdquo; Mr. Marx continued, leaning
+back in his chair again and deliberately stirring
+his coffee, &ldquo;that if Mr. Ravenor has any choice
+about the matter at all, which seems to me very
+unlikely, he would prefer Mr. Morton&rsquo;s riding home
+in safety with a dry skin. Listen!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We did so, and at that moment a fierce gust of
+wind drove a very deluge of rain against the shaking
+window-panes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That decides it!&rdquo; I exclaimed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll accept
+your offer, Mr. Marx, if you don&rsquo;t mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By far the more sensible thing to do,&rdquo; he remarked
+carelessly. &ldquo;Have a glass of wine, Reynolds,
+before you start. You&rsquo;ve a wet drive before
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Reynolds shook his head, and, wishing me a
+respectful good evening, withdrew.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx watched Reynolds leave the room
+and then shrugged his shoulders slightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Honest, but stupid. Well, now you&rsquo;re in my
+charge, Morton, I must see whether I can&rsquo;t amuse
+you somehow. Ever been to the theatre?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I could not help a slight blush as I admitted that
+I had never even seen the outside of one.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx looked at me after my admission as
+though I were some sort of natural curiosity.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll go if you like,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+a very good one here, I believe, for the provinces,
+and it will be a change for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will make us very late, won&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; I ventured
+to say.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not necessarily. I suppose it will be over
+about half-past ten and the carriage can meet us
+at the door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I said no more, for fear that he would take me
+at my word and give up the idea of going. In a
+few minutes Mr. Marx called for his bill and settled
+it, and, glancing at his watch, declared that it
+was time to be off. The waiter called a hansom,
+and we drove through the busy streets, Mr. Marx
+leisurely smoking a fragrant cigarette, and I leaning
+forward, watching the hurrying throngs of people,
+some pleasure-seekers, but mostly just released
+from their daily toil at the factory or workshop.</p>
+<p>It was a wet night and the streets seemed like
+a perfect sea of umbrellas. The rain was coming
+down in sheets, beating against the closed glass
+front of our cab and dimming its surface, until
+it became impossible to see farther than the horse&rsquo;s
+head. I leaned back by Mr. Marx&rsquo;s side with a
+sigh, and found that he had been watching me
+with an amused smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Busy little place, Torchester,&rdquo; he remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It seems so to me,&rdquo; I acknowledged. &ldquo;I
+have never been in any other town except Mellborough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lucky boy!&rdquo; he exclaimed, half lightly, half
+in earnest. &ldquo;You have all the pleasures of life
+before you, with the sauce of novelty to help you
+to relish them. What would I not give never to
+have seen Paris or Vienna, or never to have been
+in love, or tasted quails on toast! But here we are
+at the theatre!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div>
+<h2 id="c16">CHAPTER XVI.
+<br /><span class="small">MISS MABEL FAY.</span></h2>
+<p>The cab pulled up with a jerk underneath a long
+row of brightly burning lights. We dismounted,
+and I followed Mr. Marx up a broad flight of thickly
+carpeted stairs into a semi-circular corridor draped
+with crimson hangings and dimly lit with rose-coloured
+lights. A faint perfume hung about the
+place, and from below came the soft melody of a
+rhythmical German waltz which the orchestra was
+playing. I almost held my breath, with a curious
+mixture of expectation and excitement, as I
+followed Mr. Marx and an attendant down the
+corridor.</p>
+<p>The latter threw open the door of what appeared
+to be a little room and we entered. Mr. Marx at
+once moved to the front, and, throwing the curtains
+back, beckoned me to his side. I obeyed him and
+looked around in wonder.</p>
+<p>It happened to be a fashionable night and the
+place was crammed. On the level with us&mdash;we
+were in a box&mdash;were rows of men and women
+in evening attire; above, a somewhat disorderly
+mob in the gallery; and below, a dense throng&mdash;at
+least, it seemed so to me&mdash;of seated people
+were betraying their impatience for the performance
+by a continual stamping of feet and other
+rumbling noises.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div>
+<p>To a regular playgoer it was a very ordinary
+sight indeed; to me it was a revelation. I stood
+at the front of the box, looking round, until Mr.
+Marx, smiling, pushed a chair up to me and bade
+me sit down. Then I turned towards the stage
+and remained with my eyes fixed upon the curtain,
+longing impatiently for it to rise.</p>
+<p>Alas for my expectations! When at last the
+time came it was a charming picture indeed upon
+which I looked, but how different! A group of
+girls in short skirts and picturesque peasant attire
+moving lightly about the stage and singing; a
+man in uniform making passionate love to one of
+them, who was coyly motioning him away with
+her hand and bidding him stay with her eyes. A
+pretty picture it all made and a dazzling one. But
+what did it all mean?</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx had been watching my face, and
+leaned over towards me with a question upon his
+lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What does it all mean?&rdquo; I whispered. &ldquo;This
+isn&rsquo;t a play, is it? I don&rsquo;t remember one like
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A play? No; it&rsquo;s a comic opera,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+<p>I turned away and watched the performance
+again. I suppose I looked a little disappointed;
+but by degrees my disappointment died away.
+It was all so fresh to me.</p>
+<p>Towards the close of the first act, in connection
+with one of the incidents, several fresh characters&mdash;amongst
+them the girl who was taking the principal
+part&mdash;appeared on the stage. There was a
+little round of applause and I was on the point
+of turning to make some remark to Mr. Marx,
+when I heard a sharp, half-suppressed exclamation
+escape from his lips and felt his hot breath upon
+my cheek.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div>
+<p>I looked at him in surprise. He had risen from
+his chair and was standing close to my elbow,
+leaning over me, with eyes fixed upon the centre
+of the stage and an incredulous look on his pale
+face. Instinctively I followed the direction of his
+rapt gaze. It seemed to me to be bent upon
+the girl who had last appeared, and who, with the
+skirts of her dark-green riding-habit gathered up
+in her hand, was preparing to sing.</p>
+<p>He recovered from his surprise, or whatever
+emotion it was, very quickly, and broke into a
+short laugh. But I noticed that he pushed his
+chair farther back into the box and drew the
+curtains a little more forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is anything the matter, Mr. Marx?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders and frowned a little.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing at all. I fancied that I recognised
+a face upon the stage, but I was mistaken. Good-looking
+girl, isn&rsquo;t she&mdash;the one singing, I mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I thought that good-looking was a very feeble
+mode of expression, and I said so emphatically.
+In fact, I thought her the most beautiful and most
+graceful creature I had ever seen; and, as the
+evening wore on, I found myself applauding her
+songs so vigorously that she glanced, smiling,
+into our box, and Mr. Marx, who was still sitting
+behind the curtain, looked at me with an amused
+twitching of the lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Morton, Morton, this won&rsquo;t do!&rdquo; he exclaimed,
+laughing. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be falling head over
+ears in love with that young woman presently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I became in a moment very red and uncomfortable,
+for she had just cast a smiling glance up
+at us and Mr. Marx had intercepted it. I was
+both ashamed and angry with myself for having
+applauded so loudly as to have become noticeable;
+but Mr. Marx seemed to think nothing
+of it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a better way of showing your appreciation
+of that young lady&rsquo;s talents&mdash;Miss Mabel
+Fay, I see her name is&mdash;than by applause. See
+these flowers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I turned round and saw a large bouquet of white
+azaleas and roses, which the attendant must have
+brought in.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can give them to her if you like,&rdquo; Mr.
+Marx suggested.</p>
+<p>I shook my head immediately, fully determined
+that I would do nothing of the sort. But Mr.
+Marx was equally determined that I should. It
+was quite the correct thing, he assured me; he
+had sent for them on purpose and I had only to
+stand up and throw them to her. While he talked
+he was writing on a plain card, which he pinned
+to the flowers and then thrust them into my hand.</p>
+<p>How it happened I don&rsquo;t quite know, but Mr.
+Marx had his own way. It was the close of the
+act and everyone was applauding Mabel Fay&rsquo;s
+song. She stood facing the house, bowing and
+smiling, and her laughing eyes met mine for a
+moment, then rested upon the flowers which I
+was holding and finally glanced back into mine
+full of mute invitation.</p>
+<p>I raised my hand. Mr. Marx whispered,
+&ldquo;Now!&rdquo; And the bouquet was lying at her
+feet. She picked it up gracefully, shot a coquettish
+glance up towards me, and then the curtain
+fell, and I sat back in my chair, feeling quite convinced
+that I had made an utter fool of myself.</p>
+<p>About the middle of the third act Mr. Marx rose
+and walked to the door. Holding it open in his
+hand for a moment, he paused and looked round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to leave you for a few minutes,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I shall not be very long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he went and I heard him walk down the
+corridor.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div>
+<p>An hour passed and he did not return. The
+last act came, the curtain fell and, with a sigh
+of regret, I rose to go. Still he had not come back.</p>
+<p>I put on my coat and lingered about, uncertain
+what to do. Then there came a knock at the box-door,
+but, instead of Mr. Marx, an attendant entered,
+and handed me a note. I tore it open
+and read, hastily scrawled in pencil:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am round at the back of the house. Come
+to me. The bearer will show you the way.&mdash;M.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div>
+<h2 id="c17">CHAPTER XVII.
+<br /><span class="small">BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE TORCHESTER THEATRE.</span></h2>
+<p>I followed my guide to the end of the corridor,
+through a door which he unlocked and carefully
+locked again, and past the side of the deserted
+stage, on which I paused for a moment to gaze
+with wonder at the array of ropes and pulleys and
+runners which the carpenters were busy putting
+to rights, and at the canvas-covered, unlit auditorium,
+which looked now&mdash;strange transformation&mdash;like
+the mouth of some dark cavern. After
+picking our way carefully, we reached a door on
+which was painted &ldquo;Manager&rsquo;s Room.&rdquo; A voice
+from inside bade us enter and I was ushered in.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx was seated in an easy-chair, talking
+somewhat earnestly to a slim, dark young man,
+who was leaning against the mantelpiece. An
+older man was writing at a table at the other end
+of the room, with his back to the door.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx welcomed me with a nod, and introduced
+me briefly to the young man by his
+side:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton&mdash;Mr. Isaacs. Mr. Isaacs is the
+manager of the company who are playing here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Isaacs turned an unmistakably Jewish face
+towards me and extended his hand.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Glad to meet you, Mr. Morton! Hope you
+liked the performance,&rdquo; he said, with a smile,
+which disclosed the whole of a very white set of
+teeth. &ldquo;Very fair, wasn&rsquo;t it? Ha, ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I replied that I had enjoyed it exceedingly,
+and looked at Mr. Marx, wondering how long he
+meant to stay. I had taken a sudden but strong
+dislike to Mr. Isaacs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall you be very long, Mr. Marx?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have sent for the carriage,&rdquo; he answered;
+&ldquo;it will be here in ten minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It seemed to me that there was something a
+little strange in Mr. Marx&rsquo;s manner and the way
+in which he kept glancing towards the door.</p>
+<p>Just at that moment someone knocked at the
+door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; cried Mr. Isaacs.</p>
+<p>A lady obeyed his summons and swept into
+the room with a most unnecessary rustling of silk
+skirts. Mr. Isaacs welcomed her effusively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fay, your most humble servant!&rdquo; he
+exclaimed, bowing low. &ldquo;Let me introduce two
+of my friends, Mr. Morton and Mr. Marx.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The lady put out her ungloved hand, covered
+with a profusion of rings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know this young gentleman by sight,&rdquo; she
+said, in a loud and rather high-pitched tone.
+&ldquo;You threw me those lovely flowers, didn&rsquo;t you?
+So good of you&mdash;awfully good! I&rsquo;ve sent them
+home by my young woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I stammered out some incoherent response
+and heartily wished myself a hundred miles away.
+What a disenchantment it was! I looked at her
+thickly pencilled eyebrows, at the smeared powder
+and paint which lay thick upon her face: at her
+bold, staring eyes, the crow&rsquo;s-feet underneath,
+which art had done what it could to conceal and
+failed; at the masses of yellow hair, which intuitively
+I knew to be false, and I felt my cheeks
+burn with shame that I should have been tricked
+into admiring her for a moment. Unfortunately,
+she put down my embarrassment to another cause,
+for it seemed partly to gratify, partly to amuse
+her.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;My young friend and I admired your performance
+equally, Miss Fay, although, perhaps,
+he was the more demonstrative,&rdquo; said Mr. Marx,
+coming forward. &ldquo;Will you accept the congratulations
+and thanks of a provincial who seldom
+has the pleasure of seeing such acting or hearing
+such a voice?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She thanked him with an affected little laugh,
+which suddenly died away and she looked into
+his face intently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t we met before?&rdquo; she asked
+curiously. &ldquo;There is something about your face
+or voice which seems familiar to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He returned her gaze steadily, but shook his
+head with a slight smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid I may not claim that honour,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;If we had there could not possibly
+have been any uncertainty in my mind
+about it. It would have been a treasured
+memory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked doubtful, but turned away carelessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose it is my mistake, then,&rdquo; she remarked.
+&ldquo;You certainly seem to remind me of someone
+whom I have known. Fancy, perhaps. Mr.
+Isaacs, I came to beg for your escort home.&rdquo;
+(Here she shot a quick glance at me, which made
+my cheeks hot again.) &ldquo;I have sent Julia on,
+and I can&rsquo;t go alone, can I, Mr. Morton?&rdquo; she
+asked, turning to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I suppose not,&rdquo; I answered, devoutly wishing
+that Mr. Marx would take his departure. But,
+as though on purpose, he had gone to the other
+end of the room and had his back turned towards
+me.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div>
+<p>There was a brief silence. Mr. Isaacs glanced
+at me, whistled softly to himself, and then strolled
+slowly over to the window, as though to see what
+sort of a night it was. Miss Fay glanced at me
+impatiently, with a slight contraction in her eyebrows.
+I longed desperately to get away, but
+for the life of me could think of no excuse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t offer your escort, then, Mr. Morton?&rdquo;
+she whispered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t. I don&rsquo;t know the town&mdash;never was
+here before&mdash;and we have a twelve-mile drive
+before us. We are expecting the carriage every
+moment. Ah, there it is!&rdquo; I added, with a sudden
+sense of relief, as I heard the sound of horses&rsquo; feet
+stamping and pawing outside and the jingling
+of harness. &ldquo;Mr. Marx, Burdett has come!&rdquo;
+I called out.</p>
+<p>He looked up, frowning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right; there&rsquo;s no hurry!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;If
+you&rsquo;re not ready, pray don&rsquo;t study me. I should
+enjoy a cigar and a brandy-and-soda down at the
+&lsquo;Bell&rsquo; before we start.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite ready, thanks,&rdquo; I answered slowly,
+for his words and manner had given me something
+to think about. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t mind, I should
+like to be getting away. It&rsquo;s a long way, you
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, pray don&rsquo;t let me detain you!&rdquo; Miss
+Fay exclaimed, tossing her head. &ldquo;Mr. Isaacs,
+if you&rsquo;re ready, I am. Good-night, Mr. Marx;
+good-night, Mr. Morton!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She drew me a little on one side&mdash;a man&oelig;uvre
+which I was powerless to prevent&mdash;and whispered
+in my ear:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shy, stupid boy! There!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div>
+<p>She shook hands with me again and left something
+in my palm. When they were gone and I
+was in the passage, I looked at it. It was a plain
+card and on it was hastily scribbled an address:</p>
+<div class="verse">
+<p class="t4"><span class="sc">Miss Mabel Fay</span>,</p>
+<p class="t7">15, Queen Street.</p>
+</div>
+<p>I felt my cheeks flush as I tore it into pieces
+and flung them on the ground. Then I followed
+Mr. Marx out to the carriage and, leaning back
+among the cushions by his side, I began seriously
+to consider an idea which every trifling incident
+during the latter part of the evening had pointed
+to; Mr. Marx had deliberately tried to lead me
+into making a fool of myself with Miss Mabel Fay.
+Why?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div>
+<h2 id="c18">CHAPTER XVIII.
+<br /><span class="small">AT MIDNIGHT ON THE MOOR.</span></h2>
+<p>We were more than half-way home before Mr.
+Marx broke a silence which was becoming oppressive.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, have you enjoyed your evening?&rdquo; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course I have, and I&rsquo;m very much obliged
+to you for taking me to the theatre,&rdquo; I added.
+After all, perhaps I was misjudging him. What
+possible motive could he have for being my
+enemy?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; he declared, carefully
+lighting a cigar and throwing the match out of
+the window. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you&rsquo;ve had more than
+one illusion dispelled this evening, though,&rdquo; he
+went on, smiling. &ldquo;You must have had plenty
+of time and opportunity, too, for weaving them,
+out here all your life. Have you never been
+away to visit your relations, or anything of that
+sort?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe I have any relations,&rdquo; I said.
+&ldquo;I never heard of any. My father used to say
+that he was the last of his family.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But your mother? Surely you know some
+of her people?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_104">[104]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I have never even heard her speak of them,&rdquo;
+I answered shortly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Strange! You don&rsquo;t happen to remember
+her maiden name, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that I ever heard it,&rdquo; I told
+him.</p>
+<p>I began to wish that Mr. Marx would choose
+some other topic of conversation. Doubtless, it
+was exceedingly kind of him to take so much interest
+in my affairs and his questions proceeded
+from perfectly genuine motives, but my inability
+to answer any of them was becoming a little embarrassing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One more question I was going to ask you
+and it shall be the last,&rdquo; he said, as though divining
+my feeling. &ldquo;Were you born here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so. I never heard that I was born
+anywhere else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was another long silence and it seemed
+to me that Mr. Marx was very deep in thought.
+I was beginning to feel sleepy and, closing
+my eyes, I leaned right back among the soft, yielding
+cushions.</p>
+<p>It was one of the wildest and roughest nights
+of the year. Both the carriage-windows were
+streaming with raindrops, and we could hear the
+wind howling across the open country, and
+whistling mournfully among the leafless trees.</p>
+<p>We had accomplished about three-quarters of
+our journey and had just entered upon the blackest
+part of it. On either side of the road and running
+close up to it, without even the division of
+hedges, was a stretch of bare, open country,
+pleasant enough in summer time, but now a
+mere plain, on which were dotted about a few
+straggling plantations of sickly, stunted fir trees,
+among which the hurricane was making weird
+music.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_105">[105]</div>
+<p>We were in the middle of this dreary region.
+Mr. Marx was still smoking his cigar, but
+with closed eyes, and was either dozing or deep
+in thought. I, with my share of the fur rug
+wrapped closely around my knees, was trying in
+vain to sleep&mdash;in vain, for my head was still in a
+whirl, after what had been for me such an exciting
+day.</p>
+<p>Exciting though it had been, however, its close
+was to be more so. Suddenly, without the least
+warning, we felt a sharp jerk, and heard the coachman
+calling out to his horses, who were plunging
+furiously. Mr. Marx and I both leaned
+forward, and, just as we did so, there was a
+tremendous crash of breaking glass, and, through
+the splintered carriage window, on the side nearest
+to him, came a heavy piece of rock, followed by
+a confused mass of stones and gravel and other
+d&eacute;bris.</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx leapt to his feet, with his hand on the
+door handle and the blood streaming from his
+forehead. Before he could open the door, however,
+a strange thing happened. Outside, half
+visible through the remains of the glass and half
+without any intervening obstruction, flashed for
+one single second the white, ghastly face of a man
+peering in upon us. It came and went so swiftly
+that I could gain only the very faintest idea of
+the features; but with Mr. Marx it seemed to
+be otherwise. Like a flash of lightning, a
+look passed across his face which has never
+died out of my memory. Every feature seemed
+to be dilated and shaken with a spasmodic
+agony of horrified recognition. For a moment
+he seemed struck helpless, with every power of
+movement and every nerve numbed. Then a low
+cry, such as I have never before or since heard
+from human throat, burst from his shaking lips
+and his right hand tore open his coat and sought
+his breast-pocket.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_106">[106]</div>
+<p>The door of the carriage burst open as he sprang
+into the road like a wild animal, and long streaks
+of fire flashed from the gleaming revolver which
+he grasped in his hand&mdash;a lurid illumination which
+gave me sudden glimpses of his white, bleeding
+face as he stood in the road, firing barrel after
+barrel into the darkness.</p>
+<p>I jumped out and hurried to his side, looking
+eagerly around into the dark night and together
+we stood and listened in a breathless silence.
+Across the wild, open moor the wind came rushing
+towards us with a deep booming sound, and among
+the bare tree tops of a small plantation before us
+we heard it shrieking and yelling like the hellish
+laughter of an army of witches. The ink-black
+clouds lowering close above our heads were dissolving
+in a mad torrent of rain, and the darkness
+was so intense that, although we could hear the
+frantic plunging of the horses behind us, we could
+neither see them nor the carriage. The elements
+seemed to have declared themselves on the side
+of our mysterious assailant. The blackness of
+the night and the roaring of the wind and rain
+blotted out all our surroundings and deadened
+all sound save their own.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait here!&rdquo; cried Mr. Marx, in a harsh, unnatural
+tone. And before I could open my mouth
+he had vanished out of sight and it seemed as
+though the black, yawning darkness had swallowed
+him up.</p>
+<p>For a while I stood without moving. Then a
+cry for help from the coachman behind and the
+renewed sound of struggling horses reminded me
+of their plight, and I groped my way back to the
+road again.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div>
+<p>I was only just in time. The horses, fine, powerful
+creatures, very nearly thoroughbred, were
+perfectly mad with fright, and the groom, who
+had been holding and striving to subdue them,
+was quite exhausted. Between us we managed
+to pacify them after a brief struggle, and as soon
+as I could find sufficient breath I began to question
+Burdett&mdash;who had stuck to his place on the box
+like an immovable statue&mdash;about the first cause
+of their alarm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was it they shied at first?&rdquo; I asked.
+&ldquo;Did you see anyone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just catched a glimpse of the blackguard, sir,
+and that was all,&rdquo; Burdett answered. &ldquo;We were
+a-spinning along beautiful, for they knew as they
+were on their way home, them animals did, when,
+all of a sudden like, Dandy shies, and up goes the
+mare on her hind legs and as near as possible
+pitches me into the road. I slackened the reins
+and laid the whip across them, while Tom jumped
+down. And just then I saw a figure in the
+middle of the road and heard a crash through
+the carriage window. Tom, he&rsquo;d catched hold
+of their heads by then, which was lucky; for
+when the firing began they was like mad creatures
+and I could never have held them. It&rsquo;s
+a mercy we aren&rsquo;t altogether smashed up, and
+no mistake. The Lord save me from ever
+being out wi&rsquo; my &rsquo;osses again on such a night
+as this!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t see the face of the man who attacked
+us, then?&rdquo; I asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not being possessed of the eyes of a heagle
+or a cat, sir, I did not,&rdquo; Burdett replied.
+&ldquo;Just you look round and see what sort of a
+night it is. Why, I can only just make out
+your outline, sir; although I&rsquo;ve been looking at
+you this five minutes, I can&rsquo;t see nothing of your
+face.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither did you, I suppose, Tom?&rdquo; I asked
+the groom.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir; nothing except just a black figure.
+Good thing that you was neither of you hurt, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sure that Mr. Marx isn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; I answered;
+&ldquo;his face was bleeding a good deal. I wish he&rsquo;d
+come back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Never did time pass so slowly as then, when
+we waited in the storm and rain for Mr. Marx&rsquo;s
+return. It must have been nearly an hour before
+we heard him hailing us in the distance, and soon
+afterwards saw his figure loom out of the darkness
+close at hand. He was alone.</p>
+<p>Splashed from head to foot with mud, hatless,
+and with great streaks of blood clotted
+upon his forehead and cheeks, he presented at
+first a frightful figure. But his face had lost
+that dreadful expression of numbed horror
+which had made it for a moment so terrible
+to me, and, as he sank back breathless and exhausted,
+among the cushions, he even attempted
+a smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All in vain, you see,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t
+find a single trace of anyone anywhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you much hurt, sir?&rdquo; asked the groom,
+who was tying up the broken carriage-door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all. Only a scratch. Tell Burdett
+to drive home as fast as he can now, Tom, there&rsquo;s
+a good fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We were left together to talk over this strange
+affair. Mr. Marx seemed to have made up his
+mind about it already.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Without doubt,&rdquo; he said deliberately, &ldquo;it
+was some tramp, desperate with want or drink,
+who made up his mind to play the highwayman.
+He started well, and then, seeing two of us instead
+of one, funked it and bolted. I don&rsquo;t think I
+ever had such a start in my life.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You came off the worst,&rdquo; I remarked, pointing
+to his forehead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t that that upset me,&rdquo; he answered.
+&ldquo;It was a horrible idea which flashed upon me
+just for a moment. The face which peered in at
+the window&mdash;you saw it&mdash;was horribly like the
+face of a man who is dead&mdash;whom I know to be
+dead. It gave me, just while the idea lasted, a
+sensation which I hope I shall never experience
+again as long as I live. It was ghastly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The face of the dead! It was not a cheerful
+thought. But I looked at the wrecked door and
+window of the carriage and felt immediately reassured.
+Our assailant, whoever he might have
+been, was no ghostly one. There was undeniable
+evidence of his material presence and strength
+in the shattered glass, the wrenched woodwork,
+and the wound on Mr. Marx&rsquo;s forehead.</p>
+<p>The carriage pulled up with a jerk. We had
+reached my home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t you better come in and bathe your
+forehead, Mr. Marx?&rdquo; I suggested hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>He shook his head and declined.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks. I&rsquo;ll get back to the Castle as
+soon as I can and doctor it myself. Good-bye,
+Morton. If I don&rsquo;t see you again before you go,
+I wish you every success at Mr. Randall&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I thanked him warmly, shook his offered hand,
+and, shutting the carriage-door, called out to Burdett
+to drive on. For a moment or two I stood in the
+road watching the lights as they rapidly grew
+fainter and fainter in the distance. Then I turned
+slowly up the path towards the house.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div>
+<p>Half-way there I stopped short and, holding
+my breath, listened intently. The wind had
+dropped and the rain had almost ceased, but the
+night was still as dark as pitch. I listened with
+strained ears and beating heart and soon I knew
+that I had not been mistaken. Coming down the
+hill between Rothland Wood gate and where I
+was, along the road by which we had just come,
+I could hear the faint, but nevertheless unmistakable,
+sound of light, running footsteps. Turning
+back, I stole softly down the path and stood
+in the middle of the road, waiting.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
+<h2 id="c19">CHAPTER XIX.
+<br /><span class="small">A STRANGE ATTACK.</span></h2>
+<p>It could not in reality have been more than a
+minute or two, although it seemed to me then a
+terribly long while, before I again heard the
+sound which had attracted my attention. When
+I did, it was quite close at hand, just at
+the beginning of the range of farm-buildings
+which skirted the road. There was no possibility
+of any mistake. The situation was sufficiently
+plain, at any rate. Scarcely fifty yards away
+a man was coming running towards me, either
+barefooted or with very soft shoes on; and
+it was past midnight, pitch dark, and a lonely
+road.</p>
+<p>Nearer and nearer the steps came, and my heart
+began to beat very fast indeed. At last, peering
+earnestly through the gloom, I made out the
+shadowy figure of a man only a yard or two away
+from me, running in the middle of the road, and a
+pair of wild, burning eyes glistened like fire against
+the dark background. I felt his warm, panting
+breath upon my cheek, heard a low, fierce cry,
+and a second later saw the figure give a spring
+sideways and vanish in the shade of the barn
+wall.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
+<p>I followed cautiously; but, although I groped
+about in all directions, I could see nothing. So
+I stood quite still with my back to the wall, and
+called out softly:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you? Why are you hiding from
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No answer. I tried again:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to hurt you. I won&rsquo;t do you
+any harm. I only want to know who you are,
+and what&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I never finished the sentence. I became suddenly
+conscious of two glaring eyes looking at me,
+like pieces of live coal, from a crumpled heap on
+the ground. Then there was a quick, panting
+snort, a spring, and I felt a man&rsquo;s long, nervous
+fingers clutching my throat. Gasping and
+choking for breath, I flung them off, only to
+find myself held as though in a vice by a pair
+of long arms. Drawing a deep breath, I braced
+myself up for the struggle with my unknown
+assailant.</p>
+<p>More than once I gave myself up for lost, for
+my opponent was evidently a powerful man, and
+seemed bent on strangling me. But, fiercely
+though he struggled at first, I soon saw that his
+strength was only the frenzy of nervous desperation
+and that it was fast leaving him. By degrees
+I began to gain the upper hand, and at last, with
+a supreme effort, I threw him on his back and,
+before he could recover himself, I had my
+knee upon his chest and drew a long breath of
+relief.</p>
+<p>I spoke to him, shouted, threatened, commanded;
+but he took no notice. Then I peered down close
+into his upturned face and fierce eyes, and the
+truth flashed upon me at once. I had been struggling
+with a madman, a hopeless, raving lunatic,
+and it was probably he who had made the attack
+upon us in the carriage.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
+<p>My first impulse was one of deep gratitude for
+my escape; then I began to wonder what on
+earth I was to do with him. He was lying like
+a log now, perfectly quiet; but I knew that I
+had only to relax my hold upon him and the
+struggle would begin again&mdash;perhaps terminate
+differently. I could not take him into the house,
+for there was no room from which he could
+not easily escape. The only place seemed to
+me to be the coach-house. It was dry and
+clean, with no windows, save at the top, and
+with a good strong padlock. The coach-house
+would do, I decided, if only I could get him
+there.</p>
+<p>I drew my handkerchief from my pocket, and,
+knotting it with my teeth, secured his hands as
+well as I could. Then, seizing him by the collar,
+I half dragged, half helped him up the garden
+path till we reached the coach-house, and, opening
+the door with one hand, I thrust him in.
+He made no resistance; in fact, he seemed
+utterly cowed; and a pitiable object he looked,
+crouched on the floor, with his face turned to
+the wall. I struck a match to obtain a better
+view of him.</p>
+<p>His only attire was a grey flannel shirt and a
+pair of dark trousers, both of which were torn in
+places and saturated with rain. Of his face I
+could see little, for it was half hidden by the hair,
+matted with dirt and rain, and by his bushy
+whiskers and beard, ragged and unkempt. His
+feet were bare and black with a thick coating
+of mud; hence his soft, stealthy tread. Altogether,
+he was a gruesome object, as he lay a huddled
+heap against the wall, muttering to himself some
+unintelligible jargon.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
+<p>Loosing his hands, I left him there, and, softly
+entering the house, found some food and rugs and
+took them out to him. He eyed the former ravenously,
+and before I could set it down he snatched
+a piece of bread from my hands and began
+eagerly to devour it. I put the remainder down
+by his side and, throwing the rugs over him,
+stole away.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
+<h2 id="c20">CHAPTER XX.
+<br /><span class="small">THE MONASTERY AMONG THE HILLS.</span></h2>
+<p>When I awoke in the morning the sun was already
+high in the heavens and it was considerably past
+my usual hour of rising. I jumped out of bed at
+once and began my toilet. I had scarcely finished
+my bath when there came a loud tap at the
+door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; I cried out. &ldquo;Anything the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir. Please, sir, John wants to know
+whether you locked anything up in the coach-house
+last night. There was&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; I interrupted quickly. &ldquo;Tell
+him not to go there till I come down.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please, sir, it&rsquo;s too late,&rdquo; the girl answered,
+in a frightened tone. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s got away, whatever
+it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I dropped the towel with which I had been
+rubbing myself and hurried on my clothes. In a
+few minutes I was down in the yard, where
+several men were standing together talking. John
+left them at once and came to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you want to go to the coach-house
+so early?&rdquo; I exclaimed, glancing at the wide-open
+door and empty interior. &ldquo;I had an awful job
+to get that man in there last night, and now you&rsquo;ve
+let him go.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, it was a fearful row he was a-making,&rdquo;
+explained John. &ldquo;Soon as I came this morning,
+about five o&rsquo;clock, I was passing through the stack-yard
+when I heard an awful thumping at the coach-house
+door from the inside. Of course, I knew
+nowt about there being anyone theer, so I just
+goes straight up and opens the door, to see what
+was the matter, like, and, lor, I did &rsquo;ave a skeer,
+and no mistake! It wur quite dark, and I could
+see nowt but a pair o&rsquo; heyes a-glaring at me as
+savage as a wild animal&rsquo;s. &lsquo;Coom out o&rsquo; this
+&rsquo;ere and let&rsquo;s ha&rsquo; a look at yer,&rsquo; I says, for, d&rsquo;ye
+see, I thought as it wur someone who had crept
+in unbeknown in the daytime and got locked in
+by mistake. There warn&rsquo;t no answer, and I wur
+just about to strike a match and &rsquo;ave a look at
+&rsquo;im, when he springs at me like a wild cat. I tried
+to hold him and I&rsquo;m darned if he didn&rsquo;t nearly
+make his teeth meet through my hand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He touched his right hand lightly, and I noticed
+for the first time that it was bandaged up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He got away from you, then?&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Got away from me?&rdquo; John repeated, in a tone
+of utter disgust. &ldquo;He warn&rsquo;t such a sweet-looking
+object, or sweet-tempered &rsquo;un either, that I wur
+over-anxious for the pleasure of his company,
+he warn&rsquo;t! I just got my hand out of his jaws
+and let him go as fast as he liked, with a jolly
+good kick behind to help him on, too. You see,
+sir, I didn&rsquo;t know as you&rsquo;d anything to do with
+putting him in there,&rdquo; the man added apologetically.
+&ldquo;I thought he&rsquo;d got in quite promiscuous-like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To tell the truth, although I had been alarmed
+at first, I did not particularly regret what had
+happened. At any rate, it saved me the bother
+of going over to the police-station at Mellborough.
+Still, the thought that he might even now be lurking
+about in the vicinity, with plenty of opportunities
+to provide a weapon for himself, was not
+altogether a pleasant one.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Who might he have been, sir?&rdquo; John inquired
+curiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just what I should like to know,&rdquo; I answered.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a lunatic and a dangerous one, that&rsquo;s certain&mdash;escaped
+from some asylum, I should think.&rdquo;
+And I told him of my adventure on the previous
+night, to which the whole group listened open-mouthed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m thinking, sir,&rdquo; John remarked, when I
+had finished, &ldquo;that it&rsquo;d be as well for Foulds and I
+to have a scour round and see if we can&rsquo;t find him,
+or he&rsquo;ll be doing someone a mischief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you are not very busy I wish you would,&rdquo;
+I said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t feel quite easy at the thought
+of his wandering about round here. If you do
+find him, lock him up and send word to the police-station
+at Mellborough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After breakfast that morning my mother made
+a request which startled me almost as much
+it delighted me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to walk over to the monastery,
+Philip,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;Will you come with
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course I will, mother,&rdquo; I answered promptly.
+&ldquo;Nothing could give me greater pleasure. When
+will you start?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be ready in half an hour,&rdquo; she said,
+with a faint smile, as though she were pleased at
+my ready acquiescence. Then she left the room
+to get ready.</p>
+<p>In about the time she had mentioned she came
+into the garden to me and we started on our walk.
+It was a very uneventful one, but I don&rsquo;t think
+that I shall ever forget it. My mother seemed,
+after her brief relapse into comparative kindness,
+to have become more inaccessible than ever; and
+she walked along by my side, with downcast eyes
+and a nervous, thoughtful expression on her pale
+face.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
+<p>I, too, felt somewhat depressed at starting, but
+soon the fresh, pure air, becoming stronger and
+stronger as we left the road and followed the
+footpath by Beacon Hill, had its invariable effect
+upon my spirits. All perplexing thoughts and
+forebodings of trouble passed away from me like
+magic, and my heart beat and the blood flowed
+through my veins with all the impetuous ardour
+of sanguine youth.</p>
+<p>At the top of the hill we paused, I to look round
+upon my favourite scene, my mother to rest for
+a moment. Then we saw how great had been the
+storm of the night before.</p>
+<p>Here and there were the bare trunks of trees
+and many a cattle-shed and barn stood roofless.
+The storm seemed to have worked havoc everywhere,
+save where, on the summit of its wooded
+hill, Ravenor Castle, with its great range of mighty
+battlements, its vast towers, and grey walls of
+invincible thickness, frowned down upon the country
+at its feet. Looking across at it, it seemed to me
+that the place had never seemed so imposing as
+then.</p>
+<p>My mother stood by my side and noticed my
+intent gaze.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You admire Ravenor Castle very much,
+Philip?&rdquo; she said quietly.</p>
+<p>I withdrew my eyes with an effort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do, mother,&rdquo; I confessed; &ldquo;very much
+indeed. The place has a sort of fascination for
+me&mdash;and the man who lives there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My mother had turned a little away from me
+and stood with face upturned to heaven and
+mutely moving lips. Out of her eyes I could see
+the tears slowly welling, and her tall slim figure
+was convulsed with sobs. I sprang to her side
+and caught hold of her hand.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, mother?&rdquo; I cried. &ldquo;Tell me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head sadly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not now, Philip&mdash;not now. Come, let us go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Side by side we began to descend the hill. Our
+path wound around several freshly-planted spinneys
+and then led through a plantation of pine-trees.</p>
+<p>Then we turned with regret, so far as I was
+concerned, into the muddy road again and walked
+for more than a mile between high, straight hedges.
+At last, soon after mid-day, we turned to the left,
+passed through a farmyard and along a winding
+path, which led us, now by the side of turnip fields,
+now across bracken-covered open country, to the
+summit of our last hill.</p>
+<p>Here again we paused. Below us, close up
+against the background of the colourless hills,
+drearily situated in the bleakest spot of the austere
+landscape, the straight spires and severely simple
+buildings of the monastery were clustered together.
+A little above it, on an artificial eminence of rock,
+a rude cross stood out in vivid relief against the
+sky, and on this my mother&rsquo;s eyes were fixed with
+a sort of rapt wistfulness, as we stood side by side
+on the top of the hill looking downwards.</p>
+<p>It was a fitting spot that these men&mdash;who
+counted it among their virtues that in their rigid
+self-immolation they had cut themselves off even
+from the beauties of Nature&mdash;had chosen for their
+habitation. But although the place had a peculiar
+impressiveness of its own, which never failed to
+exercise a sort of fascination upon me, I was glad
+to-day when my mother moved forward again.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div>
+<p>As we neared the end of our journey and turned
+in at the long, straight avenue which led to the
+monastery doors, the strange agitation which I had
+noticed in my mother&rsquo;s manner during the earlier
+part of the day visibly increased. The cold inexpressiveness
+which had dwelt for so long in her
+face vanished, and into it there crept a look which,
+having once seen, I cared not to look upon again.
+It seemed as though she were endeavouring to
+brace herself up for some tremendous ordeal, and
+I would have given anything to have been able
+to put into words the sympathy which had risen
+up strongly within me.</p>
+<p>Unnatural, cold, severe and, at the best of times,
+indifferent, as she had lately been to me, she was
+still my mother and I loved her. But I dared not
+break in with words upon the fierce anguish which
+was already beginning to leave its marks upon
+her white, strained face. Only when we stood
+before the bare stone front of the monastery, and
+with feeble fingers she had pulled the great iron
+bell, could I speak at all, and then the words were
+not such as I wished to speak. Afterwards, when
+I thought of them&mdash;and I often did think of
+them and of every trifling incident of that memorable
+walk&mdash;they seemed to me weak and ill-chosen.</p>
+<p>But, such as they were, I am glad that I spoke
+them.</p>
+<p>She listened as one whose thoughts were far
+away, but when I ceased, breathless, she laid her
+hand upon my arm and, with her dim, sad eyes
+looking into mine, said simply:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is for your sake, Philip&mdash;for your sake!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then, before I could ask her what she meant,
+the great door slowly opened and the guest-master
+stood before us. She passed him with a silent
+salutation and vanished on her way to the chapel;
+and, though I watched her longingly, I dared not
+follow. Then, declining Father Bernard&rsquo;s invitation
+to go to his room and rest, I turned away
+from the door and wandered into the grounds.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div>
+<p>Hour after hour of the brief winter&rsquo;s day passed
+away. Father Bernard came out in search of me
+and offered me refreshments; but I shook my head.
+I could not eat, nor drink, nor rest. A strange
+but powerful apprehension of some coming crisis
+in my life&mdash;some great evil connected with my
+mother&rsquo;s visit to this place&mdash;had laid hold of me,
+and all my struggles against it were impotent.</p>
+<p>It was late in the afternoon before she came.
+I had climbed up to the top of &ldquo;Calvary&rdquo; and,
+with sick heart and longing eyes, was watching
+the door from which she must issue. Suddenly
+it was opened and she stood for a moment upon
+the threshold looking around for me. To my
+dying day I shall think of her as I saw her then.</p>
+<p>Her face was the face of a saint&mdash;calm, passionless,
+and happy, with a gentle, chastened happiness.
+I knew, when I looked upon her, that she
+had left the burden of her great sorrow behind.
+But she had paid a price for it. Pale and fragile
+as she had always appeared, she seemed now to
+have been wasted by some fierce, scathing ordeal,
+which had driven out of her features everything
+human and left only a spiritual life. As she moved
+slowly forward into the drive and I saw her even
+more distinctly, she seemed to me to have gained
+a strange, new beauty; but it was a beauty which
+made me look upon her with a sudden shuddering
+fear.</p>
+<p>I hurried down to her side and she welcomed
+me with a smile such as I had seldom seen on her
+face, and which was altogether in harmony with
+her softened expression. Then she took my arm
+and we turned towards home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are happier now, mother?&rdquo; I ventured
+to ask her, and she answered me by silently pressing
+my arm.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div>
+<p>We passed down the avenue, thickly strewn with
+decaying leaves, along the winding lane, and
+through the gate which led up to Ive&rsquo;s Head Hill.
+Once or twice as we were making the ascent I
+fancied that she hung heavily upon my arm and
+I asked if she were tired; but she only shook
+her head. We had reached the summit before the
+terrible fear which had been gnawing at my heart
+took definite shape. Then, for the first time since
+we had started upon our return journey, I was
+able to look into her face, which she had been
+keeping averted from me, and when I saw the
+ghastly change which had crept into it, my heart
+stood still and all my senses seemed numbed with
+fear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; I cried, &ldquo;you are ill! What is the
+matter? Oh, speak to me&mdash;do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She had fallen into my arms, and her hands,
+which touched mine as they fell to her side, were
+as cold as ice. Her face was like the face of one
+who has already triumphed over the shadows of
+death. Far away at our feet the Cross of Calvary
+was standing out with rugged vividness against
+the fast darkening sky and upon it her closing
+eyes were steadily fixed. Her lips were slightly
+parted in a happy, confident smile, and her
+whole being seemed absorbed in the most religious
+devotion. Once she whispered my name and
+faintly pressed my hand; then her lips moved again
+and I heard the dread sound of the solemn prayer,
+faltered out in a broken whisper, &ldquo;<i>In manus Tuas,
+Domine</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In my heart I knew that she was dying, and
+that human help would be of no avail. Yet I
+was loth to abandon all hope, and setting her gently
+down I looked anxiously around. On the summit
+of the next range of hills a man was sitting on
+horseback, looking down upon the monastery&mdash;a
+motionless figure against the sky. I cried out
+to him, and at the sound of my voice he started
+round and looked towards us; then, suddenly
+digging the spurs deep into the sides of his great
+black horse, he came thundering up the side of
+the hill at a pace which made the ground shake
+beneath my feet like the tremblings of an earthquake.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What is wrong?&rdquo; he cried hoarsely; and,
+looking into his face, I recognised Mr. Ravenor.</p>
+<p>I pointed to my mother&rsquo;s prostrate figure, and,
+gazing at him with dry eyes, I answered mechanically:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is dying!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The words had scarcely left my lips before he
+had leaped from his horse, and, passing his arm
+around her, bent over her pallid face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, this is horrible!&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;You
+must not die&mdash;you must not die! I have&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His voice seemed choked with emotion and he
+did not finish his sentence. She spoke to him,
+but so softly that I could not hear the words.</p>
+<p>I walked a few yards away and once more looked
+wildly round. Far away on the dark hillside I
+could see the white-robed figures of the lay brethren
+bending over their labour. Nearer there was no
+one. The road below was deserted and a deep
+stillness seemed brooding over the bare, shadowy
+landscape. Sick at heart I turned back and fell
+on my knees by my mother&rsquo;s side.</p>
+<p>We remained there, fearing almost to look into
+her face, until the twilight deepened upon the hills
+and slowly blotted out from our view even the
+dark cross standing up against the grey sky. Then
+Mr. Ravenor leaned for a moment forward and a
+low groan escaped from his lips. It told me what
+I dreaded&mdash;that my mother was dead!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_124">[124]</div>
+<h2 id="c21">CHAPTER XXI.
+<br /><span class="small">A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.</span></h2>
+<p>The paroxysm of my grief passed slowly away,
+and I rose to my feet and looked around with
+streaming eyes. Mr. Ravenor was still by my side,
+and together we carried my mother back to the
+monastery. The news of our approach had preceded
+us, and long before we reached our journey&rsquo;s end the
+solemn minute-bell was tolling out to the silent night,
+awakening strange echoes in the hills and finding a
+reverberation of its mournfulness in my heart.</p>
+<p>Austere and impressive as the great bare front
+of the monastery had always appeared to me,
+it had never seemed so cold and desolate as when
+our melancholy little procession wound round the
+Hill of Calvary and slowly approached the entrance.
+The gloom of a winter&rsquo;s evening was hanging around
+the building, which, with never a ray of light
+from any part, looked like a habitation of the dead&mdash;a
+gigantic vault.</p>
+<p>But suddenly, as we drew near, the front door
+was slowly opened and the dark figure of a monk,
+holding above his head a lighted taper, stood on the
+steps and in a low monotone repeated a Latin prayer.
+When he ceased there was a moment&rsquo;s silence, and
+then from the chapel there came the sound of deep
+voices chanting slowly in solemn unison the
+<i>Miserere</i>.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_125">[125]</div>
+<p>The remainder of that night seems like a dream
+to me now, of which I can recall but little. But
+I remember that, long past midnight, when I
+had thrown myself down upon the stone floor of
+the guest-chamber, I heard soft steps and the
+rustle of garments approaching me, and, looking up,
+I saw the sweetest face I ever beheld in man or
+woman looking down into mine from the deep folds
+of a monk&rsquo;s cowl.</p>
+<p>He stayed with me for a while, speaking welcome
+words of comfort; then, gathering his robes about
+him, he stood up, prepared to leave. But first
+he handed me a small packet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This was left in my charge for you, Philip
+Morton,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Little did I dream that so
+soon I should be called upon to fulfil my trust.
+Take it, my son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The packet, which I opened with reverent
+fingers, was a very small one, and consisted of a
+single letter only. That I might see the more
+clearly to read it, I pushed open the narrow,
+diamond-framed window, and the moonlight filled
+the little room with a soft, mellowed light. Then
+I read:</p>
+<div class="verse">
+<p class="t0">&ldquo;The Barnwood Monastery of St. Clement&rsquo;s,</p>
+<p class="t7">&ldquo;<i>November 19th, 18&mdash;.</i></p>
+</div>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="sc">My dearest Son</span>,&mdash;I write these lines to you,
+Philip, feeling happier than I have done for many
+years, because I have a deep and sure conviction
+that my life is drawing fast to a close, and that
+the end may come at any minute. Alas! my son,
+I feel that I have not been to you all that a mother
+should be. It may be that my coldness has
+alienated from me the love which I know you
+have been willing to give. It may be so; but I
+choose rather to believe that you will pity me when
+I tell you that the coldness which has grown up
+between us was none of my choosing, but
+was only part of a terrible punishment which I
+have had to bear for many weary years.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_126">[126]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What my sin&mdash;or let me be merciful to myself
+and call it my error&mdash;was, I do not purpose
+here to tell you. Some day the person at whose
+discretion I have left it may deem it well to tell
+you the whole story. For my sake, Philip, for
+the sake of the love which I know you bear me&mdash;and
+which, God knows, I have for you&mdash;I beg you
+to wait until that time comes and not seek to
+hasten it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Think of me as kindly as you can, dear. If
+the path which I chose to follow was not the wisest,
+I have, at least, suffered terribly for it. For many
+weary years grief and horror and remorse have
+been making my life one long purgatory. Yes,
+I have suffered indeed. But at last I have found
+peace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not marvel at what I am going to tell you,
+Philip. My will&mdash;the little I have to leave is yours&mdash;is
+drawn up and signed and I have appointed
+Mr. Ravenor your guardian. There are reasons
+for this which you cannot know, but he will be
+only too glad to accept the charge; and in all
+things, Philip, even if he should desire you altogether
+to change your position in life, follow his
+command and submit to his wishes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell, my beloved son&mdash;farewell! God
+grant that your life may be good and happy, and
+that your last days may be as peaceful as mine.
+I can wish you nothing better. Once more, farewell!&mdash;Your
+affectionate</p>
+<div class="verse">
+<p class="lr">&ldquo;<span class="sc">Mother.</span>&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_127">[127]</div>
+<h2 id="c22">CHAPTER XXII.
+<br /><span class="small">FOR LIFE.</span></h2>
+<p>My mother&rsquo;s death marked an epoch in my life,
+for immediately afterwards a great change came
+over my circumstances and position. Of the dreary
+days just before and after the funeral I shall here
+say but little. Their sadness is for me and me
+alone.</p>
+<p>Until after the ceremony I remained at the
+monastery, seeking relief from my thoughts by
+rambles over the hills, by watches at dead of
+night before the spot where, with many candles
+burning round her open coffin, my mother lay,
+and by long conversations with Father Alexander,
+my comforter. When the time of the funeral came,
+Mr. Ravenor stood by my side, the only other
+mourner, and I knew that the banks of choice
+white flowers, which smothered the coffin and
+perfumed the winter air, were his gift.</p>
+<p>After it was all over he came to me where I
+stood, a little apart, and put his hand upon my
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, my boy,&rdquo; he said kindly, &ldquo;will you
+come back to the Castle with me? I am your
+guardian now, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I drew a long breath.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_128">[128]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me go back to the farm for a week by
+myself,&rdquo; I said; &ldquo;then I will come to you. Be
+ready to go to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let it be so, then,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Perhaps
+it is best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I said good-bye to the monks, especially to
+Father Alexander, with regret, for they had all
+been very good to me. Then I accompanied Mr.
+Ravenor to his carriage and was driven swiftly
+homewards.</p>
+<p>The week that followed I spent in solitude, and
+as the days passed by the bitterness of my grief
+left me. Not that the memory of my mother
+grew less dear&mdash;rather the reverse; but I began
+to recognise that what had happened was best.
+Better that she should have died thus, full of
+thoughts of holy things and with a conscience at
+rest, than that she should still be bearing with
+aching heart a burden which she had never deserved.</p>
+<p>On the last day of the week I was told that a
+visitor had arrived and wished to see me, and
+before I could ask his name he had entered the
+room. It was Mr. Marx.</p>
+<p>The man was surely an admirable actor. Instinct
+told me that he cared not a jot for either my
+mother or me; but his few words of sympathy
+were excellently chosen and gracefully spoken.
+Then he at once changed the subject and talked
+pleasantly of other things; and as he went on I
+suddenly remembered that I had not seen him
+since the night of our drive home from Torchester,
+and that, therefore, he could know nothing
+of the adventure which had befallen me
+after his departure. I took advantage, therefore,
+of a pause in the conversation to tell him all about
+it; and, impassive though his face was, I could
+see that it made a great impression.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_129">[129]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you remember what the man was like?&rdquo;
+he asked, knitting his brows. &ldquo;Can you describe
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I did so as well as I could and in the midst of
+my narration, making some trivial excuse, he
+moved his chair out of the light into the shadows
+of the room. But if he wished to escape my scrutiny
+he was a little too late, for I had already noticed
+his blanched face and trembling hands. Evidently
+there was something more in this midnight attack
+than I had thought. Who was the lunatic? I
+wondered. I felt sure, looking at him closely,
+that Mr. Marx knew. No need now for Mr. Ravenor
+to warn me against the companionship of this
+man. Already my passive dislike had grown into
+an active aversion.</p>
+<p>Instinctively I felt that he was both unscrupulous
+and untrustworthy. I felt that he was seeking
+me for ends of his own, and all the time I was half
+afraid of him.</p>
+<p>Doubtless my manner showed that he was no
+welcome visitor, but still he lingered. At last
+my housekeeper brought me in my afternoon cup
+of tea and I was compelled to ask him to join me.
+He did so, drank it thoughtfully, and immediately
+afterwards rose to go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been wondering what can have become
+of this poor lunatic,&rdquo; he said carelessly. &ldquo;Scarcely
+a pleasant person to meet on a dark evening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shrugged my shoulders as I walked out into
+the hall with him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is nearly a fortnight ago,&rdquo; I remarked;
+&ldquo;he can hardly have remained in the neighbourhood
+and in hiding all this time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still, if he had been captured we should
+have heard of it,&rdquo; Mr. Marx objected.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Probably. And yet I don&rsquo;t see why. I should
+not, at any rate, as I have been away at the
+monastery; and you, I don&rsquo;t know how you
+would have heard of it, unless you read the local
+papers.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_130">[130]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;A weakness of which I am not guilty,&rdquo;
+he answered drily. &ldquo;Nor have I been outside
+the grounds. We have been hard at work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you walk here?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I came down in a trap from the Castle,
+but the man was going to Mellborough and I
+told him not to wait for me. You won&rsquo;t walk
+across the park with me, I suppose, just to
+get an appetite for dinner? It&rsquo;s a splendid
+evening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I looked at him furtively, but closely. Yes,
+Mr. Marx was a coward, in addition to his other
+slight demerits.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks,&rdquo; I answered shortly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had
+a long walk already today. Good evening!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I turned back into the sitting-room, but
+before I had reached my easy-chair I began
+to think that I was scarcely behaving well.
+After all, Mr. Marx was a middle-aged man,
+and it was possible that his strength might
+have been sapped by the brain labour in
+which he was constantly engaged and his sedentary
+life.</p>
+<p>Supposing he were to encounter this lunatic
+and suffer at his hands, perhaps even lose
+his life, should I not blame myself? I came to
+a speedy decision. I would let him have his fright,
+but I would follow him at a little distance and see
+that he came to no harm.</p>
+<p>I took a short, heavy stick from the rack and,
+crossing the stackyard, vaulted over the palings
+into the park, purposely avoiding the gate. About
+a hundred yards in front Mr. Marx was walking
+quickly along, with both hands in his ulster pockets,
+and looking frequently around him. Men had
+been busy in the park on the previous day cutting
+the bracken, and along the side of the road were
+many stacks of it waiting to be carted away. I
+noticed that whenever Mr. Marx drew near one of
+these he gave it a wide berth and I smiled to
+myself at this evidence of his anxiety.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_131">[131]</div>
+<p>I was walking on the turf, that he might not
+hear my footsteps, and was able to keep him
+easily in sight, for it was a clear, frosty evening,
+and the full moon was shining in a cloudless sky.
+At a sudden bend in the road he came in sight
+of a place where stacks of bracken had been left
+on either side opposite to each other. I saw
+him pause as though hesitating which he should
+avoid, and at the same moment I distinctly
+saw some dark body crouched down behind one
+of them and swaying slightly backwards and
+forwards.</p>
+<p>I broke at once into a run, but before the
+echoes of my warning shout had died away a
+figure sprang like a wild cat at Mr. Marx&rsquo;s throat.
+There was a flash and a sharp report, but from the
+direction of the former I could see that the revolver
+had been knocked up into the air and exploded
+harmlessly.</p>
+<p>When at last I reached the assailant and
+his victim it was a fearful sight I looked upon.
+The face of the lunatic was ghastly and his
+wild eyes almost started from their sockets in his
+rage.</p>
+<p>White and emaciated as a skeleton&rsquo;s, his face
+was still capable of expression&mdash;and such an
+expression. A frenzied desire to kill seemed to be
+his sole aim, and his long, skinny fingers clutched
+Mr. Marx&rsquo;s throat as in a vice. The latter&rsquo;s eyeballs
+were protruding from his head and his breath
+was coming in short, agonised pants; yet all the
+while Mr. Marx was holding the madman in such a
+fierce grip that I could hear his ribs snapping like
+whalebone.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div>
+<p>My arrival saved Mr. Marx from a speedy death
+by strangulation. Though I lifted the lunatic up
+in my arms and strained every muscle to pull
+him away, his fingers never relaxed till I stopped
+his breath and rendered him momentarily unconscious.</p>
+<p>I waited for Mr. Marx to come to himself, my
+foot resting lightly upon the prostrate body of his
+assailant. Soon he rose slowly to his feet and
+began groping about in the road.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Lost anything?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My revolver.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I pointed to where it lay gleaming in the
+moonlight. He picked it up and set it to an
+undischarged barrel. I watched him curiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t want that again,&rdquo; I remarked.
+&ldquo;What are you going to do with it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a href="#front">&ldquo;I am going to put that beast out of his misery,&rdquo; he answered.</a>
+&ldquo;Stand out of the way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense! You will do nothing of the
+sort!&rdquo; I cried hotly. &ldquo;What! kill an insensible
+man? He has as much right to live as
+you. You shall not commit murder in my
+presence: and, least of all, shall you kill a
+poor insane creature like this. Put that thing
+up!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An awful look flashed into his face, and, as he
+suddenly raised his arm, I looked into the dark
+muzzle of his revolver.</p>
+<p>With a quick spring I wrenched the revolver
+from his hand, and, bending backwards, threw it
+far away into the bracken.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you were going to do, Mr.
+Marx,&rdquo; I said, looking at him steadily, &ldquo;but it
+seems to me that you are not a fit person to
+be trusted with firearms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stood still, speechless with rage. I turned
+my back upon him and found, to my surprise,
+that the man whose life Mr. Marx had so much
+desired was lying on his side, looking at me with
+wide-open eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, have your own way,&rdquo; Mr. Marx said,
+quietly; &ldquo;I dare say you are right. There was
+no need to be violent, or to throw away my favourite
+revolver. What do you propose to do with
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx advanced, but at the sight of him
+the lunatic, who was leaning heavily upon my
+arm, and groaning with pain, shrank down upon
+the ground, cowering at my feet like a dog. He
+covered his face with his hands and broke into one
+of the most pitiful cries of distress that I have
+ever heard from human lips. I motioned Mr.
+Marx back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can manage him alone, I think; and the
+sight of you upsets him. Will you follow us
+down?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Marx advanced a step or two, his eyes flashing
+with anger. Then suddenly he turned his back
+upon us, and, without a word, walked rapidly
+away. I raised my prisoner, and half carried, half
+dragged him back to the farm.</p>
+<p>In a few hours the doctor from Rothland had
+arrived and speedily set the broken bones. He
+seemed much interested in the case and made a
+careful examination.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think he has been a lunatic long?&rdquo;
+I asked.</p>
+<p>The doctor shook his head.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I should
+say his madness has come on quite recently&mdash;the
+effect of some severe shock probably. If he
+is treated properly there is no doubt that he will
+regain his reason.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a few days the lunatic was pronounced well
+enough in health to be moved; and as all inquiries
+and advertisements about him proved fruitless,
+he was consigned to the county asylum at Torchester.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_135">[135]</div>
+<h2 id="c23">CHAPTER XXIII.
+<br /><span class="small">MY GUARDIAN.</span></h2>
+<p>On the third day after my adventure in the park
+Mr. Ravenor called to see me. He came in splashed
+from head to foot and had evidently ridden a long
+distance and fast. I offered him a chair and some
+refreshment, for he looked pale and tired, but he
+declined both, and walked slowly up and down
+the room, his hands grasping a long riding-whip
+behind his back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can only give you a minute or two now,
+Morton,&rdquo; he said, with some slight return of his
+former brusque <i>hauteur</i>; &ldquo;I am expecting visitors
+from London to-night and must get back to receive
+them. But there is something I must say to you.
+You will be surprised to hear that your mother
+has left you a considerable property?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was very much surprised.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you quite sure of this, Mr. Ravenor?&rdquo;
+I ventured to ask. &ldquo;My mother always spoke
+to me as though we were poor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not make mistakes,&rdquo; he answered, pausing
+in his walk and looking down upon me from his
+great height with knitted brows and piercing eyes,
+&ldquo;least of all in matters of such importance. How
+much the exact sum will amount to I cannot tell
+yet, but it is more than twenty thousand pounds, so
+you will be able to choose your own profession.
+What will it be, I wonder&mdash;the Bar, the Army,
+the Church, agriculture? Come, you are a boy
+of imagination and have never been in love. You
+must have had day-dreams of some sort. Whither
+have they led you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_136">[136]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Not to any of the professions which you have
+mentioned,&rdquo; I answered promptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then where? Tell me. I am curious to
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My ideas have always been very vague,&rdquo; I
+said slowly. &ldquo;I should like to live quite away
+from any town, to read a good deal, and to spend
+the rest of my time out of doors; and then, perhaps,
+after a time, I might try to think something out
+and put it into words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In short, you would like to be an author,&rdquo;
+Mr. Ravenor broke in, with a slight smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but I should not want to write to amuse
+people, or to become famous,&rdquo; I went on, encouraged
+by Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s gravity. &ldquo;I should
+like to make people think. I should like to make
+them turn aside from the groove of their daily life
+and realise that the world is full of greater and
+higher things than mere material prosperity. Men
+seem to me to find their daily work and pleasure
+too absorbing. They think of themselves and others
+only as individuals, never as limbs of a great
+common humanity with a mighty destiny. The
+world grows narrower and narrower for them as
+they grow older, instead of broader and broader. It
+is because they neglect the use of their imagination&mdash;at
+least, so it seems to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you read Hibbet&rsquo;s little pamphlets?&rdquo;
+Mr. Ravenor asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Both of them,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I like his
+ideas.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have your clothes come from Torchester?&rdquo;
+he inquired, with apparent irrelevance.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; they came last week,&rdquo; I told him, wondering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well; put on your dress-suit and come
+up to the Castle at eight o&rsquo;clock to-night. You
+shall dine with me and meet Hibbet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Meet Sir Richard Hibbet! Dine at the same
+table! My cheeks flushed and my heart beat fast.
+Life was opening out for me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; he and Marris and Williams, the publisher,
+you know, are all staying at the Castle.
+There will be some more of them down to-night.
+Don&rsquo;t be late. I will find time, if I can, to have
+some talk with you, for I want you to go to Dr.
+Randall&rsquo;s next week.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He nodded and took his departure. I watched
+him mount his horse and gallop away across the
+open park. Then I started for a solitary walk,
+to ponder my altered prospects.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div>
+<h2 id="c24">CHAPTER XXIV.
+<br /><span class="small">MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.</span></h2>
+<p>At a quarter to eight I stood in the great hall of
+Ravenor Castle. On my first visit its vastness
+and gloom had somewhat chilled me; now it was
+altogether different. A small army of servants
+in picturesque livery and with powdered hair
+were moving noiselessly about. Soft lights were
+burning on many brackets, dispelling the deep
+shades which had hung somewhat drearily about;
+and there was a fragrant perfume of flowers and
+a pleasant sense of warmth in the air. I began
+to understand at once the stories I had heard of the
+luxury and magnificence with which Mr. Ravenor
+entertained his guests on the rare occasions when
+he threw open his doors.</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor was in his private rooms, I was
+told, and his own groom of the chambers, who had
+been summoned to take my name, ushered me,
+after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation, into the library. I
+walked to the fire, for I was cold, probably through
+being unused to wearing such thin clothes; and,
+standing there with my hands behind my back,
+looked around with a feeling almost of awe at the
+vast collection of books with which I was surrounded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who are you, please?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div>
+<p>I started and looked in the direction from which
+the voice&mdash;a sweet, childish treble&mdash;came. Seated
+demurely in the centre of a large armchair, with
+tumbled hair, and a book upon her lap, was a very
+young lady. Her clear blue eyes were fixed calmly
+but inquiringly upon me, as though expecting an
+immediate answer, and there was a slight frown upon
+her forehead. Altogether, for such a diminutive
+maiden, she appeared rather formidable.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know that you were there,&rdquo; I said,
+in explanation of my start. &ldquo;My name is Morton&mdash;Philip
+Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked me over gravely and critically, and
+succeeded in making me feel uncomfortable.
+Apparently, however, the examination ended in
+my favour, for the frown disappeared and she closed
+her book.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip is pretty,&rdquo; she said condescendingly.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think much of Morton. I rather like
+Philip, though.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I&rsquo;m glad of that,&rdquo; I answered lamely.
+It was very ridiculous, but I could think of nothing
+else to say. I wanted to say something brilliant,
+but it wouldn&rsquo;t come; so I stood still and looked
+at her and got rather red in the face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know who I am?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t the least idea,&rdquo; I admitted.</p>
+<p>She leaned her small, delicate head upon her
+hand and began swaying her feet slowly backwards
+and forwards.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am Lady Beatrice Cecilia&mdash;my mother is Lady
+Silchester,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do you think it is a pretty
+name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very,&rdquo; I answered, biting my lip; &ldquo;much
+prettier than mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know, I think you are a nice boy!&rdquo;
+she proceeded. &ldquo;I rather like you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad!&rdquo; I answered, feeling unreasonably
+delighted. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure that I like you,&rdquo; I added
+fervently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very good of you to say so, when you&rsquo;ve
+only just seen me,&rdquo; she remarked; &ldquo;but you
+can&rsquo;t be quite sure. You don&rsquo;t know anything
+about me, you see. I might be dreadfully disagreeable.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m sure you&rsquo;re not,&rdquo; I answered, feeling
+that I was getting on.</p>
+<p>She was good enough to seem pleased at my
+confidence; but she made no further remark for
+a minute or two, during which I racked my brains
+in vain for some effective remark, with my eyes
+fixed upon her. She certainly made a very charming
+picture, curled up in the great black oak chair,
+with the firelight playing upon her ruddy golden
+hair and glistening in her bright eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been reading, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; I asked,
+pointing to the book which lay in her lap.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not a nice book at all!&rdquo; she said decidedly.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like any of the books here. Oh!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I turned round quickly, for I saw that she was
+looking behind me. Standing on the threshold of
+his inner room was the tall, dark figure of Mr.
+Ravenor, handsomer than ever, it seemed to me,
+in his plain evening dress.</p>
+<p>Slowly he advanced out of the shadows, with a
+faint smile upon his pale face, and laid his hand
+upon her shoulder, looking first at my little hostess
+and then at me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you&rsquo;ve been entertaining one of my guests
+for me, Trixie, have you?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Rather
+late for you to be up, isn&rsquo;t it? Your nurse has
+been looking for you everywhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I suppose I must go,&rdquo; Lady Beatrice
+Cecilia remarked deliberately. She rose, shook her
+hair out, and, replacing the book which she had been
+reading upon the shelf, prepared to depart. But
+first she came up to where I was standing on the
+hearthrug and held out her little white hand.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night, Philip Morton,&rdquo; she said, looking
+up at me with a grave smile. &ldquo;I am very glad
+that you came in here to talk to me. I was so
+dull.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I made some reciprocative speech, which, if it
+was somewhat awkwardly expressed, had at least
+the merit of earnestness, and my eyes followed
+her admiringly as she walked to the door and disappeared
+with a backward glance and a smile.
+Then I started and coloured, to find that Mr. Ravenor
+was watching me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why they should have brought
+you here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Come this way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I followed Mr. Ravenor across the hall into a
+suite of rooms hung with satin, opening out one
+from another, and seeming to my inexperience
+like a succession of brilliantly-lit fairy chambers.
+In the smallest and most remote room three men
+were standing talking together, and in a low chair
+by their side reclined Lady Silchester, holding a
+dainty screen of peacock feathers between her face
+and the fire, and listening to the conversation with
+a slightly bored air. She was in full evening
+toilette, and several rows of diamonds flashed
+and sparkled with every rise and fall of her snow-white
+throat. Afterwards I grew to look upon
+Lady Silchester as a good type of the well-bred
+society woman; but then she was a revelation to
+me&mdash;the revelation of a new species.</p>
+<p>My appearance seemed at first to surprise
+and then slightly to discompose her, but both
+emotions passed away at once and she welcomed
+me with a charming little smile as she languidly
+raised her hand and placed it within mine for a
+moment.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div>
+<p>At our entrance the conversation ceased for a
+moment. Mr. Ravenor laid his hand upon my
+shoulder and turned towards the little group.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Richard, let me introduce to you a young
+ward of mine and a disciple of yours. Sir Richard
+Hibbet&mdash;Mr. Morton; Professor Marris&mdash;Mr.
+Morton; Mr. Later&mdash;Mr. Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They all shook hands with me, and, widening
+their circle a little, continued the conversation.</p>
+<p>This was interrupted presently by the announcement
+of dinner, the Professor taking in our hostess,
+the others following, Mr. Ravenor and I bringing
+up the rear.</p>
+<p>There was no lack of conversation during dinner,
+though gradually it turned towards purely literary
+matters and remained there. To me it was altogether
+fascinating, although it was often beyond
+my comprehension.</p>
+<p>Long after Lady Silchester had departed we sat
+round the small table glittering with plate and
+finely-cut glass, and loaded with choice flowers
+and wonderful fruits; and my senses were almost
+dazed by the brilliancy of my material surroundings,
+and the ever-flowing conversation, which
+seemed always to be teaching me something new
+and opening up fresh fields of thought. At times
+I scarcely knew which most to admire&mdash;the dry,
+pungent wit and caustic remarks of the Professor; the
+perfectly expressed, classical English of Mr. Later;
+the sound, good sense of Sir Richard, seasoned
+with an apparently inexhaustible stock of anecdotes
+and quotations culled from all imaginable sources;
+or the brilliant epigrams, the trenchant criticisms,
+and the occasional flashes of genuine eloquence by
+means of which Mr. Ravenor, with rare art, continually
+stimulated the talk.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div>
+<p>Almost unnoticed, Mr. Marx, still in his morning
+coat, with pale face and dark rims under his eyes,
+had entered and sank wearily into a seat; but,
+although he listened with apparent interest, he
+took no part in the war of words which was flashing
+around him. Suddenly it all came to an end.
+Mr. Ravenor glanced at his watch and rose.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I must ask you to excuse
+me for an hour. If you care to see the library,
+Mr. Marx will show it you, or the smoking-room
+and billiard-room are at your service. Or if you
+care to remain here there is plenty more of the
+yellow-seal claret and the cigars are upon the
+table. Philip, I want you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I rose and followed him towards the door. As
+I did so I had to pass Mr. Marx, who had left his
+seat on some pretext. He leaned over towards
+me, haggard and pale, and pushed a slip of paper
+into my fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Read it at once,&rdquo; he muttered, in a quick,
+low tone. Then he moved up and took Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+place at the head of the table.</p>
+<p>I felt inclined to throw it back to him; but I
+did not. Passing across the hall, I unfolded it
+and read these few words, scrawled in a large,
+shaking hand:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must not go to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s. Mr. Ravenor
+will give you a choice. Go anywhere but
+there. If you neglect this warning you will repent
+it all your life. I swear it. Tear this up,&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div>
+<h2 id="c25">CHAPTER XXV.
+<br /><span class="small">MR. MARX&rsquo;S WARNING.</span></h2>
+<p>My first impulse, on glancing through Mr. Marx&rsquo;s
+brief note, was to show it to Mr. Ravenor; but,
+after a second&rsquo;s consideration, I changed my mind.
+Mr. Marx was a complete mystery to me. At
+times it seemed possible that the interest which
+he undoubtedly showed in me was genuine and
+kindly, and I struggled against my dislike of the
+man. Then I remembered his brutal conduct to
+the lunatic and the other inexplicable parts of his
+behaviour, and the darkest suspicions and doubts
+began to take shape in my imagination.</p>
+<p>There was something altogether mysterious about
+him&mdash;his connection with Mr. Ravenor and his
+manner towards myself. I was puzzled and more
+than half inclined to decide against the man whom
+personally I had grown to detest. But, on the
+other hand, I was young and still an optimist with
+regard to my fellow-men.</p>
+<p>What harm had I done Mr. Marx, and why should
+he seek to injure me? It seemed improbable,
+almost ridiculous. So in the end a certain sense
+of fairness induced me to respect his postscript,
+and I said nothing to Mr. Ravenor about his secretary&rsquo;s
+warning.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div>
+<p>My interview with him was a very short one
+indeed. He led the way into the study in which
+I had first seen him and, closing the door, turned
+round and faced me upon the hearthrug. The
+room was dimly lit, but where he stood the fast-dying
+fire cast a faint glow around his tall, straight
+figure, and showed me a face cold and resolute as
+marble, but not unkind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip Morton,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;it has occurred
+to me that in wishing you to go to Lincolnshire,
+I may have been influenced to a certain extent
+by selfish considerations. If you have the slightest
+preference for a public school&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I knew instinctively whence that idea had come
+and I interrupted him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing should induce me to go anywhere
+else but to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s!&rdquo; I exclaimed firmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;I wish you to
+leave tomorrow. You will be ready?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I assented at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I, too, am leaving here&mdash;it may be for a very
+long while,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;In two months&rsquo; time
+I hope to start for Persia, and between now and
+then my movements will be uncertain. I cannot
+settle down here. It is useless.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A great weariness shone out of his dark blue
+eyes and he stifled a sigh. Some thought or
+memory coloured with regret had flashed across
+his mind; but what it was I could not tell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You remember your mother&rsquo;s letter to you
+and her dying request?&rdquo; he continued, in a changed
+tone. &ldquo;I cannot explain it now, although I must
+remind you of it. This packet&rdquo;&mdash;and he passed
+me a large, sealed envelope&mdash;&ldquo;contains a chequebook,
+the address of the lawyer who will manage
+your affairs, and a letter which you will not open
+unless you have certain news and proof of my
+death. You will find that you are, comparatively
+speaking, rich. How this comes about I cannot
+tell you now, and you must remember your mother&rsquo;s
+dying injunction not to seek to find out until the
+time comes, when you will know everything. At
+present, I can only assure you that the money
+is yours by right, that it is not a gift, and that no
+one else has any claim to it. That is all I can say
+upon the subject. Are you satisfied?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div>
+<p>Curiosity seemed a mean thing to me as I listened
+to my guardian&rsquo;s words and looked into
+his sad, stern face. All the old fascination which
+I had felt from the first in his presence was strong
+upon me that night. Whatever he had bidden
+me to do I should have done it. And so I answered:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am satisfied. What you tell me is mine I
+will take and ask no questions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is well,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;And now,
+one word about your future, Philip, for to-morrow
+you will take up some of the responsibilities of
+early manhood. A great man once said that the
+best adviser of youth was the man whose own life
+had been a failure. If this be anything more than
+a paradox, then there can be no one better fitted
+for that post than I. Already the flavour of life
+has become like dead ashes between my teeth;
+and the fault is my own. Mr. Marris was talking
+a great deal of nonsense in the drawing-room before
+dinner this evening. I want to say just one or
+two words to you on the same subject, and remember
+that I speak as an outsider, impersonally.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before I was twenty-one years old, I had
+studied in most of the schools of modern philosophy,
+and had thrown off my religion like an old rag.
+I was inflated with a sense of my own intellectual
+superiority over other men. It was philosophy
+which taught men to live, I declared, and philosophy
+which taught them to die. With that motto before
+me, I carefully set myself to annihilate every vestige
+of faith with which I had ever been endowed. I
+succeeded&mdash;too well. It is dead; and sometimes
+I fear that it will never reawaken. And what am
+I? As miserable a man as ever drew breath upon
+this earth. It seems to me as though I had crushed
+a part of my very life and the sore will rankle for
+ever.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a part of man&rsquo;s nature, Philip&mdash;that
+is to say, of such men as I have been and you will
+be&mdash;the sympathetic, emotional, reverential part,
+which cries out for some belief in a higher, an infinite
+Power, for some sort of religion which it can
+cling to and entwine with every action of daily
+life. You must satisfy that craving if you desire
+to know happiness. For me there is no such knowledge.
+I have deliberately committed spiritual
+suicide; I have torn up faith by the roots and
+have made a void in my heart, which nothing else
+can ever fill. Frankly, I tell you, Philip, that
+there are times when religion of any sort seems
+to me no better than a fairy-tale. It need not
+seem so to you. Shape out for yourself any form
+of belief&mdash;that of the Christian is as good as any
+other&mdash;and resolutely cling to it. It is my advice
+to you&mdash;mine who believe in no God and no future
+state. Follow it and farewell!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He held out his hand and clasped mine for a
+moment. I would have spoken, but before I could
+find words he had disappeared through a curtained
+door into his inner apartment. So I turned away
+and went.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div>
+<h2 id="c26">CHAPTER XXVI.
+<br /><span class="small">A LOST PHOTOGRAPH.</span></h2>
+<p>It was about five o&rsquo;clock on as dreary an afternoon
+as I ever remember, when the slow train, which
+crawls always at a most miserable pace from Peterborough
+across the eastern counties, deposited
+me at Little Drayton. Besides the station-master
+there were but two people on the wet platform&mdash;one
+a porter, who made for my bags with almost
+wolflike alacrity after a moment&rsquo;s amazed stare,
+at me, presumably at the rare advent of a passenger
+with luggage; the other was a thin, dark young
+man, clad in a light mackintosh with very large
+checks, and smoking a long cigar. Whilst I was
+collecting my things he came leisurely up and
+accosted me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your name Morton?&rdquo; he inquired, without
+removing his cigar from his teeth.</p>
+<p>I assented.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you come down to meet me?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; old Randall&rsquo;s gone out to dinner, so he
+asked Cis and me to come and fetch you. Cart&rsquo;s
+outside; but we can&rsquo;t take all the luggage. Just
+look out what you want, will you, and we&rsquo;ll send
+for the rest to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I selected a portmanteau and followed him out
+of the station. A light, four-wheeled brown
+cart was waiting, drawn by a pair of small,
+clever-looking cobs, altogether a very smart turnout.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Pitch that bag in behind, porter,&rdquo; ordered my
+new acquaintance. &ldquo;Now, then, Mr. Morton, if
+you&rsquo;re ready we&rsquo;ll be off. Your train&rsquo;s half an
+hour late, and Cis will be wondering what&rsquo;s become
+of us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is Cis Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s nephew, Silchester?&rdquo; I
+asked, as I clambered up beside him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes! By the bye, I ought to have introduced
+myself, oughtn&rsquo;t I? My name is de Cartienne&mdash;Leonard
+de Cartienne.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And are you Dr. Randall&rsquo;s other pupil?&rdquo; I
+inquired.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I&rsquo;m doing a grind there. Beastly slow
+it is, too. You&rsquo;ll be sorry you&rsquo;ve come, I can tell
+you, before very long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Looking around me, I was inclined to think that
+that was not improbable. It was too dark to see
+far, but what I could see was anything but promising.
+The country was perfectly flat, dreary,
+and barren, and the view was unbroken by tree,
+or hedge, or hill. By the side of the road was a
+small canal, over the sullen waters of which, and
+across the road, brooded spectral-like clouds of mist.
+The rain still fell rapidly, and the wheels of our
+cart ran noiselessly in the sandy, paste-like mud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ghastly night, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; remarked my companion,
+breaking the silence again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rather!&rdquo; I assented vigorously. &ldquo;What a
+flat, ugly country, too! I never saw anything
+like it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beastly country! beastly place altogether!&rdquo;
+de Cartienne agreed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m jolly sick of it, I can
+tell you! Steady, Brandy! steady, sir!&rdquo; giving
+the near animal a cut with the whip.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you call your horses?&rdquo; I asked
+curiously.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Brandy and Soda. Jolly neat name for a pair.
+Don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncommon, at any rate,&rdquo; I answered ambiguously.
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you say that we were to call
+for Silchester somewhere?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mean Cis? Oh, yes; we&rsquo;ve got to pick him
+up at the Rose and Crown.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A hotel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, hardly. Fact is,&rdquo; de Cartienne continued,
+dropping his voice a little, and glancing
+behind to see whether the groom was listening&mdash;&ldquo;fact
+is, Cis is a bit inclined to make a fool of
+himself. There&rsquo;s a pretty girl at this place and
+he puts in an uncommon lot of time there. Awfully
+pretty girl she is, really,&rdquo; he added confidentially.
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t stand any nonsense, either. The place
+is only a pub., after all, but everyone who goes
+there has to behave himself. She won&rsquo;t have a
+lot of fellows dangling about after her, though she
+might have the whole town if she liked. Makes
+her all the more dangerous, I think.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Lord Silchester&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hang the &lsquo;lord&rsquo;!&rdquo; interrupted my companion,
+whipping his horses.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Silchester, then! I suppose he admires
+her very much?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Admires her! I should think he does! He&rsquo;s
+awful spoons on her! It&rsquo;s quite sickening the way
+they go on sometimes. There&rsquo;s a regular stew on
+there to-night, though, tremendous scene.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it seems that Milly&rsquo;s father&mdash;he&rsquo;s the
+landlord of the place, you know&mdash;left home about
+a month ago, saying he was going up to London
+on some business. He was expected back in a
+fortnight or three weeks; but he&rsquo;s never turned
+up and he hasn&rsquo;t written. So at last Milly sent
+up to the place where he always stops in town
+and also to some friends whom he was going to
+see. This morning a reply comes from both of
+them. Nothing has been seen or heard of him at
+all. Of course, Milly imagines the worst at once,
+goes off into hysterics, and, when we called this
+evening on our way down, was half out of her
+mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;And so Silchester stopped with her to console
+her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; assented de Cartienne, with a queer
+smile. &ldquo;Shouldn&rsquo;t wonder if he succeeded,
+either!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We entered the street of an old-fashioned, straggling
+town, the glimmering lights of which had
+been in sight for some time. de Cartienne, sitting
+forward a little, devoted his whole attention to
+the horses, for the stones were wet and slippery,
+and Brandy seemed to shy at everything and anything
+which presented itself, from the little pools
+of water glistening in the lamplight, which lay in
+the hollows of the road, down to his own shadow.
+I looked round curiously. The old-fashioned
+market-place, the quaintly built houses, the dimly
+lit shops, and little knots of gaping rustics, whom
+our rapid approach scattered right and left, were,
+at any rate, more interesting and pleasanter to
+look upon than the damp, miserable country outside.
+Suddenly we pulled up with a jerk outside
+a small, but clean-looking inn, and the groom
+leaped down from behind and made his way to
+the horses&rsquo; heads.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take them up the street a little, John,&rdquo; said
+de Cartienne, as he descended. &ldquo;No need to
+advertise Cis&rsquo;s folly to the whole town,&rdquo; he added,
+in a lower tone. &ldquo;Come on, Morton, we&rsquo;ll go and
+rout him out.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div>
+<p>I stepped across the wet pavement after him
+and, stooping low down, crossed the threshold of
+the &ldquo;Rose and Crown.&rdquo; We passed by a room in
+which several labouring men were drinking mugs
+of beer, and entered the bar, in which a rosy-cheeked
+country damsel was exchanging noisy and not too
+choice badinage with one or two young men who
+hung about her. From here another door led into
+an inner room and at this de Cartienne somewhat
+ostentatiously knocked. There was a second&rsquo;s
+pause; then a clear, pleasant voice sang out
+&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; and we entered.</p>
+<p>It was a small, cosy room, not ill-furnished,
+and with a cheerful fire burning in the grate. Leaning
+against the mantelpiece, with his face towards
+us, was Cis, whose likeness to Lady Beatrice was
+so remarkable that I liked him heartily before
+we had exchanged a word. Standing by his side,
+with her head suspiciously near his shoulder, was
+a very fair girl, with nice figure and complexion
+and large blue eyes. Her face was certainly pretty,
+but it was not of a very high type of prettiness.
+The features, although regular of their sort, were
+not in any way refined or <i>spirituelle</i>, nor was there
+anything in her expression to redeem her from the
+mediocrity of good looks.</p>
+<p>Still, she was undoubtedly a nice-looking girl,
+quite pretty enough to be the belle of a country
+place, and, on the whole, I was rather relieved to
+find her attractions of so ordinary a kind. There
+could scarcely be anything dangerous, I thought,
+in this good-humoured doll&rsquo;s face; she did not
+appear to have the daring or character to lead
+her boyish admirer over the borders of a spooning
+sentimentality. At any rate, that was not written
+in her face. A blunt physiognomist would probably
+have declared that there was not enough of the
+devil in her to fire the blood even of an impetuous,
+generous boy and urge him on to recklessness. It
+seemed so to me and I was glad of it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div>
+<p>Just at present there were traces of tears in
+her face and a generally woe-begone expression.
+Her companion, too, looked upset and sympathetic;
+but he glanced up with a bright smile when we
+entered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re Philip Morton, I suppose?&rdquo; he exclaimed,
+holding out his hand. &ldquo;Glad to see
+you! Heard of you from my uncle, you know!&rdquo;
+I shook hands with him and he introduced me
+formally to the young woman at his side, calling
+her Miss Hart. Then he turned to me again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I quite meant to have been at the station to
+meet you,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but we called here first
+and I&mdash;I was detained.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s of no consequence at all,&rdquo; I assured him.
+&ldquo;Mr. de Cartienne was there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Mr. de Cartienne having had to wait
+half an hour in the rain at that infernal old shed
+they call a station, requires a little refreshment,&rdquo;
+chimed in the person named. &ldquo;Will the fair
+Millicent condescend, or shall I ring?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She rose and, crossing the room, opened the
+door into the bar.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Brandy-and-soda for me,&rdquo; ordered de Cartienne.
+&ldquo;Cis is drinking whisky, I see, so he&rsquo;ll have
+another one, and we&rsquo;ll have a large bottle of
+Apollinaris between us. Morton, what&rsquo;ll you
+have?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I decided upon claret and hot water, never having
+tasted spirits. de Cartienne made a wry face, but
+ordered it without remark.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Morton, I don&rsquo;t know what you&rsquo;ll think
+of us shacking about in a public-house like this,
+and bringing you here, your first night, too!&rdquo;
+exclaimed Silchester, dragging his chair up to mine.
+&ldquo;Bad form, isn&rsquo;t it? But it is so dull in the
+evenings and Milly&rsquo;s no end of a nice girl. No one
+could help liking her. Besides, she&rsquo;s in dreadful
+trouble just now,&rdquo; he continued, dropping his voice.
+&ldquo;Her father has disappeared suddenly. Awfully
+mysterious affair and no mistake. We can&rsquo;t make
+head or tail of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_154">[154]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It is uncommonly queer,&rdquo; admitted de Cartienne,
+who was lounging against the wall beside us.
+&ldquo;I should have said that he&rsquo;d gone off on the spree
+somewhere, but he couldn&rsquo;t have kept it up so long
+as this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Besides, he&rsquo;d only a few pounds with him,&rdquo;
+Cecil remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Seems almost as though he&rsquo;d come to grief in
+some way,&rdquo; I said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I daren&rsquo;t tell Milly, but I don&rsquo;t know what
+else to think,&rdquo; Cecil acknowledged.</p>
+<p>A wild idea flashed for a moment into my mind,
+only to die away again almost as rapidly. It was
+too utterly improbable. Nevertheless, I asked
+Cecil a question with some curiosity:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What sort of looking man was he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil and de Cartienne both began to describe
+him at once, and, as de Cartienne modified or
+contradicted everything Cecil said, I was soon in
+a state of complete bewilderment as to the personality
+of the missing man. It seemed that he
+was short, and of medium height; that he was
+fair, and inclined to be dark, stout and thin, pale
+and ruddy. Milly put in a word or two now and
+then; and, what with de Cartienne dissenting
+from everything she said, and Cecil, a little perplexed,
+siding first with one and then with the
+other, the description naturally failed to carry to
+my mind the slightest impression of Mr. Hart&rsquo;s
+appearance. At last, rather impatiently, I stopped
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I am guilty of a somewhat unreasonable
+curiosity,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;for I haven&rsquo;t any
+real reason for asking; but haven&rsquo;t you a photograph
+of your father, Miss Hart? I can&rsquo;t follow
+the description at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_155">[155]</div>
+<p>I happened to be looking towards de Cartienne
+while I made my request, and suddenly, from no
+apparent cause, I saw him start, and a strange
+look came into his face. At first I thought he
+must be ill; but, seeing my eyes fixed upon him,
+he seemed to recover himself instantly, though he
+was still deadly pale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what the mischief are you staring at,
+Morton?&rdquo; asked Cecil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, nothing!&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I thought that
+de Cartienne was ill, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil glanced at him curiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By George! he does look rather white about
+the gills, doesn&rsquo;t he? Say, old chap, are you
+ill?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s nothing!&rdquo; he said carelessly. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+all stare at me as though I were some sort of natural
+curiosity, please. I feel a bit queer, but it&rsquo;s passing
+off. I think, if Miss Milly will allow me, I&rsquo;ll go
+and sit down in the other room by myself for a
+few minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come with you!&rdquo; exclaimed Cecil, springing
+up. &ldquo;Poor old chap!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t, please!&rdquo; protested de Cartienne.
+&ldquo;I would rather be alone; I would indeed. I
+shall be all right directly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He quitted the room by another door, and we
+three were left alone. Cecil and Miss Milly began
+a conversation in a low tone, and I, feeling
+somewhat <i>de trop</i>, took up a local newspaper and
+affected to be engaged in its contents. After a
+few minutes, however, Cecil remembered my existence.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_156">[156]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;By the bye, Milly,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Morton was asking
+you whether you had not a photograph of your
+father. There&rsquo;s one in the sitting-room, isn&rsquo;t
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll go and look at it and see how
+Leonard is. He looked uncommonly seedy, didn&rsquo;t
+he? Come along, Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We crossed a narrow passage and entered a
+small parlour. Miss Hart walked up to the mantelpiece
+and Cecil and I remained looking round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Leonard isn&rsquo;t here;
+I wonder where&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was interrupted by a cry of blank surprise
+from Miss Hart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter now? How you startled
+me, Milly!&rdquo; he exclaimed, hurrying to her side.
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, the photograph!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s gone!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_157">[157]</div>
+<h2 id="c27">CHAPTER XXVII.
+<br /><span class="small">LEONARD DE CARTIENNE.</span></h2>
+<p>We all three stood and looked at one another for
+a moment, Milly Hart with her finger still pointing
+to the vacant place where the photograph had been.
+Then Cecil broke into a short laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re looking very tragical about it,&rdquo; he said
+lightly. &ldquo;Mysterious joint disappearance of Leonard
+de Cartienne and a photograph of Mr. Hart.
+Now, if it had been a photograph of a pretty girl
+instead of a middle-aged man, we might have connected
+the two. Hallo!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He broke off in his speech and turned round.
+Standing in the doorway, looking at us, was Leonard
+de Cartienne, with a slight smile on his thin lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Behold the missing link&mdash;I mean man!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Cecil. &ldquo;Good old Leonard! Do you
+know, you gave us quite a fright. We expected
+to find you here and the room was empty. Are
+you better?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, thanks! I&rsquo;m all right now,&rdquo; he answered.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been out in the yard and had a blow. What&rsquo;s
+Milly looking so scared about? And what was it I
+heard you say about a photograph?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father&rsquo;s likeness has gone,&rdquo; she explained,
+turning round with tears in her eyes. &ldquo;It was
+there on the mantelpiece this afternoon and now,
+when we came in to look at it, it has gone!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_158">[158]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I should think that, if it really has disappeared,&rdquo;
+de Cartienne remarked incredulously, &ldquo;the servant
+must have moved it. Ask her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Hart rang the bell and in the meantime
+we looked about the room. It was all in vain.
+We could find no trace of it, nor could the servant
+who answered the summons give us any information.
+She had seen it in its usual place early
+in the morning when she had been dusting. Since
+then she had not entered the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Deuced queer thing!&rdquo; declared Cecil, when
+at last we had relinquished the search. &ldquo;Deuced
+queer!&rdquo; he repeated meditatively, with his hands
+thrust deep down in his trousers&rsquo; pockets and his
+eyes resting idly upon de Cartienne&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;But
+we can&rsquo;t do anything more, that&rsquo;s certain. We
+really must be off, Milly. We&rsquo;ve been here almost
+an hour already, and Brandy and Soda must be
+getting restless, and you must be famished, I&rsquo;m
+sure, Morton. Come along! Good-bye, Milly!
+Keep your spirits up, old girl! The governor&rsquo;ll
+be bound to turn up again in a day or two. And
+don&rsquo;t you worry about the photograph. It must
+be somewhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it isn&rsquo;t!&rdquo; she declared tearfully. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve
+looked everywhere! Oh, what shall I do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil assumed a most lugubrious expression and
+looked down sympathetically into her tear-stained
+face. She certainly was uncommonly pretty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You go on, you fellows,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be
+out in a minute. I&rsquo;ll drive, Leonard. Don&rsquo;t think
+you&rsquo;re quite up to it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne nudged my arm and we went off
+together and made our way up the street to the
+inn, under the covered archway of which the trap
+was drawn up. In a few minutes Cecil joined us.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_159">[159]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Hope I haven&rsquo;t kept you waiting,&rdquo; he said,
+as he lighted a cigarette and clambered up to the
+box-seat. &ldquo;No, you come in front, Morton. That&rsquo;s
+right. Very odd about that photograph, isn&rsquo;t it?
+It&rsquo;s gone and no mistake. We&rsquo;ve been having
+another look round.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed de Cartienne impatiently.
+&ldquo;What a fuss about a trifle! A girl
+has no memory at all! I expect she moved it
+herself. Bet you it turns up by the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; Cecil replied quietly, as he
+gathered up the reins. &ldquo;Now then, hold on behind!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We rattled off down the street and out into
+the open country again at a pace which precluded
+any conversation. The low hedges and stunted
+trees by the roadside seemed to fly past us, and a
+sudden turn, which almost jerked me from my
+seat, brought us in sight of a wide semi-circle of
+twinkling lights, which seemed to stretch right
+across the horizon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are they?&rdquo; I asked, pointing forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those? Oh, fishing-smacks!&rdquo; answered Cecil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that the sea, then?&rdquo; I asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>He burst out laughing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what else do you suppose it is?&rdquo; he
+exclaimed. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you hear it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I bent my head and listened. The faint night
+breeze was just sufficient to carry to our ears the
+dull, monotonous roar of an incoming tide.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not a very cheerful row, is it?&rdquo; observed Cecil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cheerful! I call it the most infernally miserable
+sound I ever heard!&rdquo; growled de Cartienne,
+from the back seat, &ldquo;enough to give a fellow the
+horrors any day!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See that bright light close ahead?&rdquo; said Cecil,
+pointing with his whip. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s Borden Tower,
+where we hang out, you know. We shall be there
+in a minute or two.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_160">[160]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps!&rdquo; growled de Cartienne from behind,
+making a nervous clutch at the side of the trap,
+&ldquo;Cis, my dear fellow, you&rsquo;re not driving a fire-engine,
+and there&rsquo;s nothing to be gained by this
+confounded hurry. George! I was nearly out that
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We had turned round a sharp corner into a
+winding drive, devoid of trees, and planted only
+with stunted shrubs. On one side, between us
+and the shore, was a long, irregular plantation of
+small fir trees, through which the night wind was
+moaning with a sound not unlike the more distant
+roar of the sea. Directly in front loomed a high
+dark building, standing out with almost startling
+abruptness against a void of sky and moor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here we are!&rdquo; exclaimed Cecil, pulling up
+with a flourish before the front entrance. &ldquo;John,
+help down the poor, nervous invalid behind, and
+take Brandy and Soda round to the stable at once.
+They&rsquo;re too hot to stand still in this damp air a
+second.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We passed across a large but somewhat dreary
+hall into a warm, comfortable dining-room. A
+bright fire was blazing in the grate, and a table in
+the centre of the room was very tastefully laid for
+dinner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Make yourself at home, Morton!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Cecil, standing on the hearthrug and stretching
+out a numbed hand to the blaze. &ldquo;Draw an easy-chair
+up to the fire while James unpacks your traps
+and sees to your room. Leonard, ring the bell,
+there&rsquo;s a good fellow, and let them know we&rsquo;re
+ready for dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks; I think I&rsquo;ll go upstairs at once,&rdquo; I
+remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right! Here&rsquo;s James; he&rsquo;ll show you your
+room. One servant between three of us now.
+Good old James! I say, Morton, no swallow-tails,
+you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_161">[161]</div>
+<p>I nodded and followed the man, who was waiting
+in the doorway, to my room.</p>
+<p>After my bare-floored, low-ceilinged attic at the
+farm, the apartment into which I was ushered
+seemed a very temple of luxury. There was a
+soft carpet upon the floor, many easy chairs, an
+Oriental divan, mirrors, and solid, handsomely
+carved furniture. Leading out of it on one side
+was a bath-room and on the other a small, cosy
+sitting-room, or study.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is there anything more I can do for you,
+sir?&rdquo; inquired the man, after he had poured out
+my hot water and set out the contents of my
+portmanteau.</p>
+<p>I shook my head and dismissed him. After a
+very brief toilet I hastened downstairs.</p>
+<p>The dinner was remarkably good and I was
+very hungry; but I found time to notice two
+things. The first was that Cecil drank a great
+deal more wine than at his age was good for him;
+and the second, that de Cartienne, who drank
+very little himself, concealed that fact as far
+as he was able and passed the bottle continually
+to Cecil. This did not much surprise me,
+for I had already formed my own opinion of de
+Cartienne.</p>
+<p>After dinner the man who waited upon us brought
+in some coffee and withdrew. Cecil, whose cheeks
+were a little flushed, and whose eyes were sparkling
+with more than ordinary brightness, rose and
+stretched himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Leonard,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s adjourn
+to your room and have a hand at cards! Shall
+we?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders, but did not
+offer to move.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_162">[162]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not particularly keen on cards to-night,&rdquo;
+he remarked, with a yawn. &ldquo;I believe, if you
+had your own way, you&rsquo;d play from morning to
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, hang it all, there&rsquo;s nothing else to be done!&rdquo;
+Cecil answered. &ldquo;If we stay down here we can&rsquo;t
+smoke, and we shall have old Grumps back bothering
+presently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forgot we couldn&rsquo;t smoke,&rdquo; de Cartienne said,
+rising. &ldquo;Come along, then!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mind, Morton, do you?&rdquo; Cecil
+asked, turning towards me. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s awfully cosy
+up in Len&rsquo;s room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not,&rdquo; I answered, finishing my coffee.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come, but I can&rsquo;t play.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that doesn&rsquo;t matter! You can watch us
+for a bit, and you&rsquo;ll soon pick it up. Hi, James!&rdquo;
+Cecil sang out, as that worthy showed himself at
+the door for a minute, &ldquo;bring us up some whisky
+and half a dozen bottles of seltzer water into Mr.
+de Cartienne&rsquo;s room, will you? Look sharp, there&rsquo;s
+a good fellow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne&rsquo;s rooms, especially his study, were
+furnished far more luxuriously than mine and in
+excellent taste. The walls and chimney-piece were
+covered with charming little sketches, a few foreign
+prints, photographs, and dainty little trifles of
+bric-a-brac. Except for the photographs, some
+of which were a little <i>risque</i>, it was more like a
+lady&rsquo;s boudoir than a man&rsquo;s sitting-room.</p>
+<p>de Cartienne and Cecil seated themselves at a
+small round table and began to play almost immediately.
+I drew an easy chair up to the fire, and
+closed my eyes as though I intended going to sleep.
+As a matter of fact, I meant to watch the game,
+and closely, too. But Fate decided otherwise. I
+was really very sleepy, and, though I struggled
+against it, I was obliged to yield in the end. I
+fell asleep, and it must have been nearly two hours
+before I was awakened by a touch on my arm.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Wake up, Morton, old chap! It&rsquo;s time we
+were off to our rooms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I sat up and looked at my watch. It was past
+midnight.</p>
+<p>Cecil was leaning against the table, with his
+hands in his pockets, looking pale and weary, but
+exultant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been in rare luck to-night!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+&ldquo;Won a couple of ponies from poor old Len, and
+a whole hatful of I O U&rsquo;s. Here they go!&rdquo; And
+he swept a little pile of crumpled papers into the
+fire.</p>
+<p>I glanced at de Cartienne to see how losing had
+affected him. Not in the ordinary way, at any
+rate. He was sitting back in his chair, with his
+arms crossed, a cigarette between his teeth and
+an inscrutable smile upon his thin lips. Somehow
+I did not like his expression. There was something
+a little too closely approaching contempt
+in it as he watched Cecil&rsquo;s action and listened
+to the exultant ring in his tone&mdash;something which
+seemed to express a latent power to reverse
+the result with ease at any time he thought proper.</p>
+<p>It was rushing to conclusions, no doubt; but as
+I glanced from Cecil&rsquo;s boyish, handsome face, a
+trifle dissipated just now, but open and candid,
+to the pale, sallow countenance, the large black
+eyes, and cynical, callous expression of his friend,
+it seemed to me that I was looking from the face
+of the tempted to the face of the tempter. The
+one seemed like the evil genius of the other.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div>
+<h2 id="c28">CHAPTER XXVIII.
+<br /><span class="small">&ldquo;AS ROME DOES.&rdquo;</span></h2>
+<p>I awoke on the following morning with that vague,
+peculiar sense of having entered upon an altogether
+new phase of life. By degrees my semi-somnolent
+faculties reasserted themselves and I remembered
+where I was. My new life had indeed begun in
+earnest.</p>
+<p>I sprang out of bed and pulled up the blind.
+It was a very strange prospect I looked out upon,
+after the luxuriant hilly scenery of the home where
+I had lived all my life. Before me was a flat, uncultivated
+common, dotted here and there with a
+few stunted gorse-bushes and numerous sand-heaps.
+Farther away a long stretch of shingle
+sloped down to the foam-crested sea which, under
+the grey, sunless sky of the early winter&rsquo;s morning,
+had a dull, forbidding appearance. Though it
+was not an inviting prospect, there was something
+attractive in its novelty, and, dropping the
+blind, I hastened into the bath-room and began
+dressing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div>
+<p>It was past eight o&rsquo;clock when I got downstairs,
+but I saw no one about, so I let myself out by the
+front door and walked down the drive. The grounds
+were small and soon explored, and, having exhausted
+them, I passed through a wicket-gate into
+a little plantation of pine-trees and thence out
+on to the common. Then, for the first time
+in my life, I felt a strong sea-breeze, and,
+with my cap in my hand and my face turned
+seawards, I stood for a few moments thoroughly
+enjoying it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Glad to see that you&rsquo;re an early riser, Mr.
+Morton. It&rsquo;s a habit which, I&rsquo;m sorry to say, my
+other pupils have not acquired.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I turned round with a start. A tall, thin man,
+somewhat past middle age, with iron-grey hair and
+thin, regular features, was standing by my side.
+His eyes were the eyes of a visionary and a poet,
+and his worn, thoughtful face bore the unmistakable
+stamp of the student. I liked his appearance,
+careless and dishevelled though it was in point of
+attire, and knowing that this must be Dr. Randall,
+I felt a keen sense of relief.</p>
+<p>For, bearing in mind the evident habits and
+last night&rsquo;s occupation of Silchester and de Cartienne,
+I had begun to wonder somewhat apprehensively
+what manner of man the master of such
+pupils might be. Now I felt sure that the idea
+which had first occurred to me had been the correct
+one, and that the doings of the night before were
+carried on altogether under the rose. The man
+James had all the appearance of a servant whom
+it would be easy to bribe. This without doubt had
+been done.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps they haven&rsquo;t lived all their lives in
+the country, sir, as I have,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I have
+always been used to getting up early.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you are my new pupil?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Well,
+Mr. Morton, I&rsquo;m very pleased to see you, and I
+have an idea that we shall get on very well together.
+I was going to walk down to the sea. Will you
+come with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div>
+<p>I followed him along the tortuous path to the
+shore, and on the way he questioned me about
+my acquirements, putting me through a sort of
+<i>viv&acirc;-voce</i> examination, the result of which appeared
+to satisfy him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is quite a pleasant surprise to me,&rdquo; he
+said, as we turned back to the house. &ldquo;You are
+almost as advanced as de Cartienne and far more
+so than Silchester. I suppose you mean to matriculate?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I told him that I thought so, but he scarcely
+seemed to hear. Apparently his mind had
+wandered to some other subject and for nearly
+a quarter of an hour he remained absorbed. I
+learned afterwards that this was a habit of his.</p>
+<p>With a start he came to himself, and, apologising
+for his absent-mindedness, led the way back to
+the house and into the breakfast-room. The
+cloth was laid for four and the urn was hissing
+upon the table; but there was no one else
+down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is neither Lord Silchester nor Mr. de Cartienne
+up yet, James?&rdquo; inquired Dr. Randall.</p>
+<p>James believed not, but would ascertain. In a
+few moments he returned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Silchester desires me to say that he was
+reading late last night, sir, and has overslept himself;
+but he will be down as soon as possible,&rdquo;
+James announced solemnly.</p>
+<p>Remembering that James had been in attendance
+upon us in de Cartienne&rsquo;s rooms last night,
+I thought that this was rather cool. But it was
+no concern of mine and I held my peace.</p>
+<p>Dr. Randall frowned slightly and looked vexed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It appears to me that Silchester does most of
+his reading at night,&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;I could wish
+that the results of it were a little more apparent.
+And Mr. de Cartienne, James? Has he overslept
+himself, too?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. de Cartienne will be here immediately, sir,&rdquo;
+the man announced.</p>
+<p>We began breakfast. When we were about
+half-way through the meal, the door opened and
+de Cartienne appeared. He cast an apprehensive
+glance at me, and then, seeing that Dr. Randall
+greeted him as usual, looked relieved.</p>
+<p>Presently the doctor left the table, bidding us
+join him in the study in half an hour. Directly
+the door had closed de Cartienne leaned back in
+his chair and laughed softly to himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever made you get up so early?&rdquo; he
+asked, looking at me curiously. &ldquo;Gave me quite
+a turn when I heard that you were down and alone
+with Grumps; and Cis was in an awful funk. We
+were afraid that you might let out something about
+last night&mdash;accidentally, of course; and then there
+would have been the deuce to pay and no mistake.
+James, take my plate and bring me a brandy-and-soda.
+Take care the doctor doesn&rsquo;t see you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whose servant is James?&rdquo; I asked, as he disappeared&mdash;&ldquo;yours
+or the doctor&rsquo;s?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The doctor imagines that he&rsquo;s his, I suppose;
+but he gets a lot more from Cis and me than Grumps
+pays him,&rdquo; de Cartienne explained carelessly. &ldquo;I
+knew him before he came here, and got him to
+apply for the situation by promising to double his
+wages.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the advantages?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Obvious enough, I should think. You&rsquo;ve seen
+some of them already, and you&rsquo;ll see some more
+before you&rsquo;ve been here long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay. Perhaps it would be as well for
+me to tell you, de Cartienne, that what I have
+seen I don&rsquo;t like.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely not,&rdquo; he answered carelessly. &ldquo;I
+thought directly I saw you that you were a bit of
+a prig&mdash;I beg your pardon, I should say, rather
+strait-laced. Still, I don&rsquo;t suppose you&rsquo;ll think it
+worth your while to interfere. You can go your
+way and Cis and I can go ours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would make it a little dull for me,&rdquo; I
+said slowly. &ldquo;Perhaps I am not quite so strait-laced
+as you seem to think. I suppose you would
+teach me how to play cards, if I desired to learn?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, certainly! And how to use this also,&rdquo; he
+remarked, drawing a latchkey from his pocket and
+swinging it carelessly backwards and forwards.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I will learn, then,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;After
+all, this place would be ghastly dull if I didn&rsquo;t do
+as you fellows do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at me searchingly out of his keen
+dark eyes, but I sipped my coffee leisurely and
+seemed to be quite unconscious of his scrutiny.
+Apparently he was satisfied, for I saw the hard
+lines of his mouth relax a little and he smiled&mdash;a
+disagreeable smile of contemptuous triumph.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve no doubt you&rsquo;ll prove an apt pupil,&rdquo; he
+remarked. &ldquo;Have you finished? If so, we&rsquo;ll go
+and have a cigarette in my room before we start
+work with Grumps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does the doctor allow smoking?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To tell you the truth, Morton, we&rsquo;ve never
+asked him. What the eye doesn&rsquo;t see, the heart
+doesn&rsquo;t grieve over, you know. We go on that
+principle, and smoke in our rooms with the doors
+shut and windows open. Come along!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div>
+<h2 id="c29">CHAPTER XXIX.
+<br /><span class="small">A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.</span></h2>
+<p>In less than a week&rsquo;s time I was master of the
+state of affairs at Borden Tower. Dr. Randall,
+with the best possible intentions, was the worst
+possible man that could have been chosen for the
+guardianship of two such pupils as Lord Silchester
+and Leonard de Cartienne. He was a
+scholar and a pedant, utterly unsuspicious and
+ignorant of the ways of the world, himself so
+truthful and honourable that he could scarcely
+have imagined deceit possible in others, and certainly
+not in his own wards. Of the servants,
+James and his wife were the only ones in authority,
+and they were the tools of de Cartienne.</p>
+<p>The latter I could not quite understand. The
+only thing about him perfectly clear was that
+he was just the worst companion possible for
+Silchester. For the rest, he was so clever that
+his presence here at all as a pupil seemed unnecessary.
+He appeared to be rich and he took a
+deep interest of some sort in Cecil. Seemingly it
+was a friendly interest, but of that I did not feel
+assured. At any rate, it was an injurious association
+for Cecil, and I determined to do everything in
+my power to counteract it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div>
+<p>To strike at once, to attempt to show him the
+folly of the courses into which he was being
+led, I saw would be futile. I must have time
+and opportunity. Any violent measures in such
+a case would be worse than useless. My only
+course, obnoxious though it was, was to join them
+in their pursuits and try to gain some sort of influence
+over Cecil, while I kept him as far as possible
+from falling into further mischief.</p>
+<p>Accordingly, on the first evening after my arrival
+at Borden Tower, I was initiated into the mysteries
+of poker and Prussian bank, and on subsequent
+occasions I either joined them or looked on. The
+result in the main was pretty much as I had expected.
+de Cartienne won always when the stakes
+were very large, and Lord Silchester when they
+were scarcely worth having.</p>
+<p>The earlier part of the day was by far the
+pleasanter to me. In the morning we worked with
+Dr. Randall; in the afternoon we always walked
+or rode&mdash;in either case, a visit to the &ldquo;Rose and
+Crown&rdquo; was an invariable part of the programme&mdash;and
+in the evening, after dinner, we were supposed
+to read until ten o&rsquo;clock, although the manner in
+which we really spent that portion of the day was
+far less profitable.</p>
+<p>I had intended paying a special visit to Miss
+Milly Hart on my own account; but either by
+accident or design&mdash;at the time I was not sure
+which&mdash;de Cartienne always seemed to frustrate
+my plans. Even to myself I would not acknowledge
+that I had any other motive save pure curiosity;
+but I was still determined by some means
+or other to see a photograph of the missing Mr.
+Hart. The strange disappearance of the one in
+the sitting-room at the inn&mdash;it had never been
+found&mdash;puzzled me, and whenever I caught myself
+thinking of the incident, it was always in connection
+with Leonard de Cartienne. It seemed very absurd,
+when I considered the matter calmly, but nevertheless
+I could not escape from it. It haunted
+me, as ideas sometimes will.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div>
+<p>One afternoon, about two months after my
+arrival at Borden Towers, Cecil and I were reading
+together in the study&mdash;or, rather, I was endeavouring
+to encourage one of his rare fits of industry by
+helping him through a stiff page of Livy&mdash;when
+the door opened suddenly and de Cartienne entered
+with an open telegram in his hand. Seeing me, he
+stopped short and frowned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo, Len! What&rsquo;s up?&rdquo; Cecil exclaimed.
+&ldquo;What have you got there? A telegram?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne nodded and, after a moment&rsquo;s
+hesitation, handed it over.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s from Fothergill,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;He is
+coming over to-night, and wants us to dine with
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Should like to awfully,&rdquo; Cecil said, &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t see how we can. Old Grumps wouldn&rsquo;t let
+us go, of course, and I don&rsquo;t see how we can manage
+it without his knowing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you? Well, I do,&rdquo; de Cartienne remarked
+drily. &ldquo;Grumps is going over to Belscombe
+this evening to take the chair at the literary
+society there. He&rsquo;ll have to dine at six and leave
+at a quarter to seven. I know that, because I
+heard him give his orders. That will leave us
+plenty of time to get down into the town by eight
+o&rsquo;clock; and we shall be all right for coming back,
+of course.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s capital!&rdquo; declared Cecil, shutting up
+his Livy with a bang. &ldquo;We will have our revenge
+on old Fothergill to-night. Just what I&rsquo;ve been
+looking forward to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he said slowly. &ldquo;I
+fancy. Fothergill is a bit too good for us. I shan&rsquo;t
+be very keen on cards to-night, I can tell you. I
+lost more money than I cared about last time he
+was here.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div>
+<p>Cecil laughed carelessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t lose as much as I did,&rdquo; he remarked.
+&ldquo;But, then, Fothergill had all the luck. I never
+remember such a run of trumps as he held in that
+last deal; and you played villainously, you know&mdash;gave
+him no end of tricks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The very faintest suspicion of a smile&mdash;an evil
+smile it was&mdash;trembled on de Cartienne&rsquo;s lips, and
+he turned away towards the window as though
+to hide it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t in very good form that night,&rdquo; he
+acknowledged. &ldquo;I must make up for it to-night,
+if we can get Fothergill to give us our revenge.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil drummed upon the table with his fingers
+and raised his eyebrows slightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t very well refuse if we ask for it, can
+he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose not,&rdquo; de Cartienne answered, lounging
+across the room towards the door. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go
+and see James and let him know that we shall
+want the latchkey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right. And I say, Len,&rdquo; Cecil continued,
+&ldquo;we must take Morton with us, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne turned round with an angry frown
+upon his dark face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I scarcely see how that would be possible,&rdquo;
+he said stiffly. &ldquo;I think it would be taking rather
+a liberty with Fothergill. He only asks us two.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In other circumstances I should promptly have
+refused to be one of the party, especially as the
+invitation appeared to come from a friend of de
+Cartienne&rsquo;s. But the darkening shade which I
+had seen flash across de Cartienne&rsquo;s face reawakened
+all my suspicions with regard to him and I instantly
+determined that, by some means or other, I would
+go. His evident reluctance to invite me only
+strengthened my intention, so, although he looked
+at me as if expecting to hear me express my
+indifference as to whether I went or not, I purposely
+refrained from doing anything of the sort.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all rot!&rdquo; Cecil protested. &ldquo;We
+can&rsquo;t go off and leave Morton boxed up here by
+himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose Morton would care much
+about it,&rdquo; said de Cartienne sullenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On the contrary, I should enjoy it very much
+indeed,&rdquo; I interposed; &ldquo;although, of course, I
+don&rsquo;t wish to go if you think that your friend would
+object,&rdquo; I added blandly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s rather dull here
+by oneself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course it is! Morton, old chap, you shall
+go with us, never fear!&rdquo; Cecil declared vigorously.
+&ldquo;Tell you what, Len, if you won&rsquo;t do the agreeable
+and make things right with Fothergill&mdash;as
+you can, if you like, of course&mdash;I shan&rsquo;t go, so there!
+Which is it to be&mdash;both or neither?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Both, of course,&rdquo; de Cartienne answered,
+with as good grace as possible. &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t
+have thought Morton would have cared about it,
+that&rsquo;s all. Be ready punctually at half-past seven,
+you men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; exclaimed Cecil, delighted at
+getting his own way for a change. &ldquo;Good old
+Len! Morton, pitch that beastly Livy into the
+drawer and come and change your things. We&rsquo;ll
+have some fun to-night!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div>
+<h2 id="c30">CHAPTER XXX.
+<br /><span class="small">ECART&Eacute; WITH MR. FOTHERGILL.</span></h2>
+<p>At a little before eight o&rsquo;clock de Cartienne, Cecil,
+and I presented ourselves at the bar of the &ldquo;Bull&rdquo;
+Hotel, and inquired for Mr. Fothergill. We were
+shown at once by a waiter into a small private
+sitting-room, brilliantly illuminated and unmistakably
+cosy. Under the chandelier was a small
+round table glittering with plate and flowers; and,
+standing upon the hearthrug, critically surveying
+it, was a middle-aged, dapper-looking little man,
+in well-cut evening clothes, with a white camellia
+in his buttonhole.</p>
+<p>His hair was slightly tinged with grey, but his
+moustache was still jet-black and elaborately curled
+and waxed. His forehead was low and his full
+red lips and slightly hooked nose gave him something
+of a Jewish appearance. He had just missed
+being handsome, and, similarly, had just missed
+being good form; at least, so it seemed to me
+from my first rapid survey, and I did not afterwards
+change my opinion.</p>
+<p>Directly we entered the room he moved forward
+to meet us, with a smile which revealed a very
+fine set of teeth. I watched him closely as he
+noted the addition to the party, but he betrayed
+no surprise or annoyance. On the contrary, when
+Cecil had introduced me as his friend and fellow-pupil
+at Borden Tower, he welcomed me with a
+courtesy which was a little effusive. On the whole,
+I decided that his manners were in his favour.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div>
+<p>There was some casual conversation, an explanation
+rather more elaborate than seemed to
+me necessary of his flying visit to Little Drayton,
+and then dinner was announced. Everything had
+evidently been carefully ordered and prepared
+and was of the best. Mr. Fothergill, whatever
+his shortcomings, made a capital host; and his
+talk, though a trifle slangy and coarse at times,
+was amusing in the extreme. Altogether, the
+dinner was a success in every respect save one. For
+four men, two of whom were under twenty, there
+was a great deal too much wine drunk.</p>
+<p>I think I scarcely noticed it until the cloth was
+removed and dessert placed upon the table. Then
+a curious sense of exhilaration in my own spirits
+warned me to be careful and I looked round at
+once at the others.</p>
+<p>Cecil sat directly opposite to me and I saw at
+a glance how it was with him. His hair, which
+he always kept rather long, but carefully parted,
+was disarranged and untidy; his neat tie had
+become crumpled and had slipped up on one
+side; his eyes were sparkling, as though with
+some unusual excitement, and there was a glow
+of colour in his cheeks almost hectic in its intensity.</p>
+<p>At the head of the table our host was still smiling
+and debonair, looking as though he had been drinking
+nothing stronger than water; and opposite
+to him de Cartienne was leaning back in his chair
+with a faint tinge of colour in his olive cheeks
+and a peculiar glitter in his dark eyes which was
+anything but pleasant to look upon. Altogether,
+the appearance of the trio was like a cold douche
+to me and brought me swiftly back to my former
+watchfulness. I felt instinctively there was mischief
+brewing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Fothergill, let&rsquo;s have a hand at cards!&rdquo;
+Cecil exclaimed, breaking a momentary silence.
+&ldquo;You owe us a revenge, you know! George!
+didn&rsquo;t you clean us out last time we played!
+We&rsquo;ll clean you out to-night, hanged if we won&rsquo;t!
+What shall it be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Fothergill shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cards&mdash;cards! It&rsquo;s always cards!&rdquo; he
+answered lightly. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you think of something
+else to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; hang cards!&rdquo; muttered de Cartienne.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, I&rsquo;m agreeable! But what the mischief
+else is there to do in this dull hole?&rdquo; asked
+Cecil discontentedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, let&rsquo;s have a chat and a few more glasses
+of wine!&rdquo; suggested Mr. Fothergill. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so
+lucky that I hate to play at cards. I always
+win.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you?&rdquo; remarked Cecil, a little pettishly.
+&ldquo;Well, look here, Fothergill! I&rsquo;ll play you at
+any game you like to-night and beat you&mdash;so
+there! I challenge you! You owe me a revenge.
+I want it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Fothergill looked a little bored.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, if you put it in that way,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;you leave me no alternative. But, mind, I
+warn you beforehand, Silchester, I&rsquo;m bound to
+win! I don&rsquo;t want to win your money&mdash;I had
+enough last time I was here&mdash;but if we play I shall
+win, whether I care about it or not. I&rsquo;m in a
+tremendous vein of luck just now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll see about that,&rdquo; Cecil answered doggedly.
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s ring for some cards.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Or, rather, don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s play here at all,&rdquo; interrupted
+de Cartienne. &ldquo;The people are awfully
+old-fashioned and particular and may want to turn
+as out at eleven o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By George! we&rsquo;ll go round to the &lsquo;Rose and
+Crown!&rsquo;&rdquo; exclaimed Cecil. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t been there
+for two days. It&rsquo;s a decent little place and we
+can do what we like there,&rdquo; he added, turning to
+Mr. Fothergill. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mind, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not the least in the world!&rdquo; declared our
+host, rising and stretching himself. &ldquo;Any place
+will do for me. The sooner the better, if we are
+going, though. I don&rsquo;t want to be particularly
+late.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We all rose, despatched the waiter for our overcoats
+and sallied out into the cool night air. After
+the heated atmosphere of the room in which we
+had been dining, the wintry breeze came as a sudden
+swift tonic. At the corner of the street, looking
+seaward, Cecil and I stopped simultaneously and
+bared our heads.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By George! how delicious a walk would be!&rdquo;
+he exclaimed, fanning himself with his cap. &ldquo;I
+say, Phil, old chap, suppose we bolt and do the
+seashore as far as Litton Bay?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A splendid idea!&rdquo; I exclaimed, taking him
+at his word and linking his arm in mine. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s
+do it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He burst out laughing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Phil, you know we can&rsquo;t!&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I was only joking. Why, what on earth would
+Fothergill think of us serving him such a trick
+as that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, hang Fothergill!&rdquo; I cried. &ldquo;He only
+wants to win your money. I wouldn&rsquo;t play with
+the fellow if I were you, Cecil. Can&rsquo;t you see he&rsquo;s
+a cad?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at me, confounded.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, hang it all,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;how can you
+refuse to play with a man after you&rsquo;ve eaten his
+dinner? Besides, can&rsquo;t you see that it isn&rsquo;t he
+who wants to play at all? It was I who proposed
+it and even then he wasn&rsquo;t keen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All beastly cunning!&rdquo; I muttered angrily.
+But I could say no more, for de Cartienne and
+Mr. Fothergill had retraced their steps to look for
+us and Cecil had started off towards them.</p>
+<p>In a few moments we reached the &ldquo;Rose and
+Crown&rdquo; and walked straight into the little parlour
+at the back. Miss Milly was sitting there by herself
+in semi-darkness, with a very disconsolate
+face. She brightened up, however, at our entrance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All by yourself, Milly?&rdquo; exclaimed Cecil,
+letting go my arm and moving to her side. &ldquo;In
+tears, too, I believe! No news, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head sadly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None! I have almost lost hope,&rdquo; she added.</p>
+<p>Then she glanced questioningly at Mr. Fothergill,
+and Cecil introduced him in an informal sort
+of way and explained our visit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve come to drink up all your wine and
+have a quiet game at cards instead of staying all
+the evening at the &lsquo;Bull.&rsquo; You can put us in the
+sitting-room out of the way, can&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; she answered eagerly. &ldquo;How good
+of you to come here! We&rsquo;ve been dreadfully
+quiet the last few days&mdash;scarcely anyone in at all,
+and I have been so dull. Come this way, please.
+I&rsquo;m so glad I had the fire lit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She led us into the little sitting-room, where
+we had gone to look for Mr. Hart&rsquo;s photograph
+on my first visit to the place. I pointed to the spot
+where it had been.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t found the portrait yet?&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>She shook her head and looked distressed.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t talk about it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It
+seems as though it must have been spirited away
+and it makes me feel uncomfortable even to think
+about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We seated ourselves around the table and Mr.
+Fothergill, producing two packs of cards from his
+pocket, began to deal. At the end of an hour
+Cecil had won nearly fifty pounds, I was as I had
+started, and de Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill were
+about equal losers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m getting sick of this!&rdquo; I declared. &ldquo;Leave
+me out of this deal, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They assented and I crossed the room to where
+Milly was sitting. Pretending to examine the
+fancy-work upon which she was engaged, I bent
+close over her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milly, I want to ask you a question, without
+letting the others hear,&rdquo; I said softly. &ldquo;Do
+you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She nodded. Her large blue eyes, upturned
+to mine, were filled with innocent wonder.</p>
+<p>I glanced towards the table. As I had expected,
+de Cartienne was watching us, and I could see
+that he was straining every nerve to overhear our
+conversation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;m about tired of it, too!&rdquo; he exclaimed,
+suddenly throwing down his cards and
+rising; but Cecil laid his hand on his shoulder
+and forced him down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, man! You must play out your
+hand, at any rate. Then you may leave off as
+soon as you like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne resumed his seat with evident
+reluctance. I bent over Milly again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has anyone else one of those photographs
+of your father?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Is there anyone
+from whom you could borrow one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head and looked towards the
+empty frame.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That was the only one,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did he have them taken?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At Lawrence&rsquo;s, just across the way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And when?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;About nine months ago, I think it was. Why
+do you ask, Mr. Morton?&rdquo; she added anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you another time,&rdquo; I answered, in
+a low tone.</p>
+<p>I glanced towards the table as I said this and
+was just in time to see de Cartienne bend over
+towards Cecil and whisper something in his ear.
+The latter looked round at us at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You two seem to have found something interesting
+to talk about,&rdquo; he remarked, glancing
+towards Milly as though requiring an explanation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t,&rdquo; she answered, with a sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton was just asking me&mdash;&mdash; Oh, Mr.
+Morton, you&rsquo;re treading on my foot!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I withdrew my foot and tried the effect of a
+warning glance, but it was of no avail.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton was asking me,&rdquo; she continued,
+&ldquo;whether I had not another of those photographs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And have you&mdash;has anyone?&rdquo; interrupted
+de Cartienne, fixing his piercing black eyes upon
+her.</p>
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; but perhaps I can get some. They were
+taken at Lawrence&rsquo;s and I suppose he has the
+negative.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I glanced quickly at de Cartienne. He seemed
+profoundly uninterested and was trying to build
+a house of the cards he had thrown down. Either
+he must be a perfect actor, or my vague suspicions
+were very ill-founded at that moment. I could
+not decide which.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had enough cards, Cis?&rdquo; he asked abruptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not I. We&rsquo;ll leave you out for a bit, though.
+Fothergill and I are going to play ecart&eacute;.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div>
+<p>de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders and threw
+himself on the sofa.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I pity you, then,&rdquo; he said drily. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll
+soon see the back of that little pile of winnings.
+Fothergill&rsquo;s a bit too good for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we shall see,&rdquo; Cecil answered, laughing
+confidently. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a bad hand at ecart&eacute;
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They began to play. Presently de Cartienne
+left the room and returned with two glasses in
+his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have a lemon-squash, Morton?&rdquo; he asked
+carelessly. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s only a drop of whisky in it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I accepted, for I was thirsty, and half emptied
+at a draught the tumbler which he handed me.
+As I put down the glass I caught a grim smile on
+de Cartienne&rsquo;s sallow face. But what it meant
+I could not tell, although it made me strangely
+uneasy.</p>
+<p>I watched the play for a few minutes and, to
+my surprise, Cecil was still winning. Then gradually
+a powerful, overmastering sleepiness crept
+over me. I tried to stave it off by walking
+about, by talking to Milly, by concentrating my
+thoughts upon the play. It was useless. I felt
+my eyes closing and the sounds and voices in the
+room grew dimmer and less distinct. For a while
+I remained in a semi-conscious state&mdash;half awake
+and half asleep&mdash;by sheer force of will. But in
+the end I was conquered. A mist hung before
+my eyes and all sound died away. I fell asleep.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div>
+<h2 id="c31">CHAPTER XXXI.
+<br /><span class="small">A STARTLING DISCOVERY.</span></h2>
+<p>When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and
+aching head which usually follow either a drugged
+sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up on
+the sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around
+in blank surprise. Daylight was streaming in
+through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the
+gas was still burning with a dull, sickly light.</p>
+<p>The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night
+orgie. Several packs of cards were lying strewn
+over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. There
+were half-a-dozen tumblers&mdash;one nearly full, another
+broken into pieces&mdash;and several empty soda-water
+bottles lay on the floor.</p>
+<p>But the most ghastly sight of all was Cecil&rsquo;s
+face. He sat on a chair drawn up to the table,
+his chin fallen upon his folded arms, dark rims
+under his eyes, and without a single vestige of
+colour in his ashen face. There was no one else
+in the room.</p>
+<p>I sprang to my feet and hurried to his side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil! Cecil!&rdquo; I cried. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter,
+old chap? Wake up, for Heaven&rsquo;s sake, and
+tell me what has happened!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div>
+<p>He pulled himself together and struggled to his
+feet. Then he looked round the room and finally
+into my anxious face, with an odd little laugh,
+strained and unnatural.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve about done it this time,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;By
+George! Let&rsquo;s clear out of this before Milly comes
+down. I shouldn&rsquo;t like her to know that we&rsquo;ve
+been here all night. Poor little girl! She&rsquo;d never
+forgive herself for letting us play here at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are the others?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fothergill has gone back to his hotel and
+Leonard went with him. I said I&rsquo;d wake you and
+we&rsquo;d follow directly, but I think I must have been
+dozing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must go, and at once,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;or we
+shall never be back before the doctor gets down.
+Come, Cecil! Don&rsquo;t tell me anything yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the
+room. We crept softly down the passage and
+out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him
+questions and he seemed in no hurry to disclose
+what had happened, so we hurried along in silence,
+Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze
+which blew in our teeth when we had left the town
+behind us and had all the effect of a strong, invigorating
+tonic.</p>
+<p>At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and,
+glancing at Cecil, I saw the colour creeping back
+into his cheeks with every breath he took of the
+salt air which came sweeping across the sandy,
+barren country between us and the sea.</p>
+<p>When at last we reached our destination and
+had cautiously made our way up to the back entrance,
+he hesitated. Opposite to us was the pine-plantation,
+which led down to the sea, and between
+the thickly growing black trunks a curious light
+shone and glistened. I had lived all my life in the
+country and knew well what it was, but Cecil
+turned round and watched it with amazement.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Look, Phil!&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that
+light? It seems as though the plantation were
+on fire!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the sunrise,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;Shall we go
+and see it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He nodded, and we stole across the lawn, through
+the wicket-gate and along the narrow, winding
+path, thickly strewn with dried leaves and fir-cones,
+down towards the shore. We were just in
+time to see the final effect. A rim of the sun had
+already crept into sight, casting brilliant, scintillating
+reflections upon the dancing waves, and
+the eastern sky was tinged from the arc of the
+heavens to the horizon with streaks of brilliantly-hued,
+fantastically-shaped cloudlets, strewn upon a
+background of the lightest transparent blue.</p>
+<p>Far off the sails of a few fishing-smacks glittered
+like gossamer wings upon a fairy ocean; and farther
+away still, where the banks of orange and azure
+clouds seemed to sink into a blazing sea of polished
+glass, the white funnel of a passing steamer shone
+like a pillar of fire.</p>
+<p>It was a sight so new to Cecil that he stood spellbound,
+with a look of wondering awe upon his
+pale face. And it was not until we had gazed to
+the full and were retracing our steps in silence
+through the plantation that I cared to speak of
+the events of the night.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip,&rdquo; he said solemnly, when I mentioned
+the subject, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s no one to blame for this
+night&rsquo;s work but myself. To do Leonard and
+that fellow Fothergill justice, they both continually
+urged me to leave off playing, but I wouldn&rsquo;t. It
+seemed as though the luck must change at every
+deal and so I went on, and on, and on. What a
+fool I was!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the result?&rdquo; I asked anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I owe Fothergill between six and seven hundred
+pounds and I haven&rsquo;t as many shillings.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div>
+<p>I stopped short and looked at him in horror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Seven hundred pounds! Why, Cis, how on
+earth came you to play up to that figure and with
+a man you know so little of?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, the man&rsquo;s all right&mdash;at least, he&rsquo;s no
+sharper, if you mean that!&rdquo; Cecil answered
+doggedly. &ldquo;It was my own fault altogether.
+He&rsquo;s a better player than I am, and, of course,
+won.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he ought not to have gone on,&rdquo; I protested.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know much about such matters,
+but I feel sure that a gentleman wouldn&rsquo;t sit down
+and win seven hundred pounds from a boy of your
+age. You&rsquo;re not eighteen yet, you know, Cis.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t quite see what age has got to do with
+it,&rdquo; he answered gloomily. &ldquo;As regards Fothergill,
+I don&rsquo;t feel particularly sweet on him just
+now, as you may imagine; but it wasn&rsquo;t his fault
+at all. I made him go on, and, you know, the
+winner is a great deal in the hands of the loser in
+a case of that sort. He kept on wanting to go
+and he went at last. I should have gone on playing
+till now, I think, if he hadn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When does he expect you to settle up?&rdquo; I
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to see him this afternoon. I say,
+you&rsquo;ll come down with me, old chap, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+he pleaded. &ldquo;I shall have to ask for a little time,
+of course.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll go with you,&rdquo; I promised. &ldquo;How
+shall you try to raise the money?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the faintest idea,&rdquo; he acknowledged
+gloomily. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve overdrawn my allowance already
+several hundreds. The mater is as poor as a church
+mouse and I simply daren&rsquo;t ask my Uncle Ravenor,
+though he&rsquo;s as rich as Cr&oelig;sus. He might
+disinherit me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div>
+<p>We reached the house and stole softly up the
+back stairs to our rooms. Cecil threw himself,
+dressed as he was, upon the bed. But I was in no
+humour for sleep, and after a cold bath I dressed
+and got downstairs in time for breakfast. To my
+surprise, de Cartienne was in the morning-room,
+carefully dressed as usual and with no sign in his
+appearance or manner of having been out all night.
+He was chatting lightly with Dr. Randall about
+some trivial matter connected with the meeting
+which the latter had attended the previous evening.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil is late again,&rdquo; remarked the doctor,
+with a frown, as we began breakfast. &ldquo;James, go
+to Lord Silchester&rsquo;s room and ask him how long
+he will be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>James retired and reappeared in a few minutes
+with a grave face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Silchester desires me to beg you to excuse
+him this morning,&rdquo; was the message which he brought
+back. &ldquo;He has a very bad headache and has
+had no sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Dr. Randall, who was one of the kindest-hearted
+men breathing, looked compassionate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m very sorry to hear
+that! Certainly we will excuse him. Will he
+have anything sent up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A cup of tea, sir, only. I have ordered it in
+the kitchen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor fellow! It&rsquo;s strange how he suffers
+from these attacks! I&rsquo;m afraid he can&rsquo;t be very
+strong,&rdquo; remarked the doctor absently, as he buttered
+himself a piece of toast.</p>
+<p>de Cartienne and I exchanged glances, but we
+said nothing.</p>
+<p>Directly after breakfast the doctor took us into
+the study and we began the morning&rsquo;s labours.
+It happened that, in working out a series of algebraic
+questions, de Cartienne and I used a great
+deal of paper, and when the doctor looked for a
+piece to explain the working of a rather stiff quadratic,
+the rack was empty.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_187">[187]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Have either of you a piece of wastepaper in
+your pockets?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;The back of an
+envelope, or anything will do. I see it is lunch-time,
+so it is scarcely worth while sending for any.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I felt in all my pockets, but they were empty.
+de Cartienne drew an envelope from his pocket
+and handed it to the doctor. The moment he had
+parted with it, however, I saw him give a sudden
+start and he seemed as though about to make an
+effort to regain possession of it. But he was too
+late, for the doctor was already fast covering it
+with figures.</p>
+<p>de Cartienne quitted his seat and stood looking
+over his shoulder, probably hoping that I should
+do the same. But I remained where I was, taking
+care to manifest my interest in the problem by
+asking frequent questions. The moment the doctor
+had finished his rapid figuring and solved the
+equation, I stretched out my hand for it eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I see it, sir?&rdquo; I begged. &ldquo;I fancy you&rsquo;ve
+made a mistake in the values.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He handed it across the table at once, with a
+quiet smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think not, Morton,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Examine it
+for yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne moved round to my side, with
+nervously twitching lips and an ugly light in his
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One moment, Morton,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t
+keep it longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I laid a hand upon it, and pushed him back
+with the other.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My turn first, please. Isn&rsquo;t that so, Dr.
+Randall?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He nodded genially, not noticing the suppressed
+excitement in de Cartienne&rsquo;s manner.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. I&rsquo;m glad to find you both so interested
+in it. Let me know about this mistake
+at lunch-time, Morton,&rdquo; he added, smiling. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+going for a stroll round the garden now, and I
+should advise you to do the same. We&rsquo;ve had a
+close morning&rsquo;s work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rose and left the room. de Cartienne
+watched the door close and then turned to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Morton,&rdquo; he said quickly, &ldquo;I want that envelope.
+There are some memoranda on the reverse
+side which concern my private affairs. I
+need not say more, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your hands to yourself, de Cartienne!&rdquo;
+I answered, shaking him off. &ldquo;I shall not give
+you the envelope till I have examined it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You cad!&rdquo; he hissed out, his voice shaking
+with fury. &ldquo;How dare you attempt to pry into
+my private affairs? Give me the envelope, or
+I&rsquo;ll&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll what?&rdquo; I answered, standing up, putting
+the envelope in my pocket and facing him. &ldquo;Look
+here, de Cartienne, I&rsquo;m not going to attempt to
+justify my conduct to you. On the face of it, it
+may seem to be taking a mean advantage, but I
+don&rsquo;t care a fig about that. I&rsquo;ve made up my
+mind what to do, and all the blustering in the world
+won&rsquo;t make me alter it. I am going to look at the
+reverse side of this envelope. You&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I ceased and with good reason, for, with a sudden,
+panther-like spring, he had thrown himself upon
+me, and his slender white fingers were grasping
+at my throat. It was a brief struggle, but a desperate
+one, for he clung to me with a strength
+which seemed altogether out of proportion to his
+slim body and long, thin arms.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div>
+<p>I was in no mood for trifling, however, and,
+suddenly putting forth all my strength, I seized
+him by the middle, and sent him backwards, with
+a crash of fallen furniture, into a corner of the
+room. Before he could recover himself, I drew
+out the envelope from my pocket and looked
+at it.</p>
+<p>There was nothing on the reverse side but the
+address and the postmark. They were quite sufficient
+for me, however. The postmark was Mellborough
+and the handwriting was the peculiar,
+cramped handwriting of Mr. Marx.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div>
+<h2 id="c32">CHAPTER XXXII.
+<br /><span class="small">FORESTALLED.</span></h2>
+<p>For a full minute neither of us moved. Then
+de Cartienne rose slowly to his feet and walked
+to the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here, take this!&rdquo; I said, holding out the
+envelope towards him. &ldquo;The private memoranda
+upon it may be useful to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He snatched it from my fingers and tore it into
+atoms. Then he walked quietly away, with an
+evil look upon his face.</p>
+<p>At luncheon Cecil appeared, white as a ghost,
+and looking anxious and disturbed, as well he
+might. Dr. Randall was quite uneasy at his appearance,
+and acquiesced at once when I asked for permission
+to take him for a drive during the afternoon.
+de Cartienne sat silent throughout the meal,
+except for a few sympathising sentences to Cecil,
+and left the room at the first opportunity.</p>
+<p>At three o&rsquo;clock my dog cart was brought round
+and Cecil and I drove away. We scarcely spoke
+until we were in the streets of Drayton, and then,
+rousing myself, I bade him pluck his spirits up,
+and assured him vaguely that I would see him
+through it somehow. He thanked me, but seemed
+very despondent.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_191">[191]</div>
+<p>We went to the &ldquo;Bull,&rdquo; and inquired for Mr.
+Fothergill. He was in the coffee-room, we were
+told, and there we found him lunching.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So good of you fellows to come and look me
+up!&rdquo; he exclaimed, welcoming us cordially.
+&ldquo;Waiter, a bottle of Pommery. Don&rsquo;t shake your
+head now, Lord Silchester. It&rsquo;ll do you good.
+I can see you&rsquo;re a bit seedy this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil smiled feebly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not quite up to the mark,&rdquo; he admitted,
+&ldquo;Just a bit of a headache&mdash;that&rsquo;s all. I say,
+Mr. Fothergill,&rdquo; he went on, plunging at once
+<i>in medias res</i>, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m awfully sorry, but I shan&rsquo;t
+be able to settle up with you to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Settle up with me!&rdquo; repeated Mr. Fothergill,
+putting down his glass untasted, and looking surprised.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand you. Settle what
+up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, the money I lost last night,&rdquo; Cecil explained.</p>
+<p>Mr. Fothergill leaned back in his chair and
+looked into Cecil&rsquo;s white, anxious face with an
+astonishment which, if simulated, was certainly
+admirably done. Then he broke into a little laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Lord Silchester,&rdquo; he said energetically,
+&ldquo;you can&rsquo;t for one moment suppose that I expected
+anything of the sort. Why, I scarcely
+took our play seriously at all, and I should very
+much prefer that we said no more about it. Pray
+don&rsquo;t be offended,&rdquo; he added, hastily, for the sensitive
+colour had flushed into Cecil&rsquo;s cheeks. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+tell you how we&rsquo;ll arrange it. You shall give me
+your I O U&rsquo;s and pay them just as it is convenient.
+Any time within the next five or six years will do.
+But as to taking a sum like that from a b&mdash;a man
+who is not of age&mdash;why, it&rsquo;s absurd! I feel rather
+ashamed of myself for having been so fortunate.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_192">[192]</div>
+<p>A look of intense relief had stolen into Cecil&rsquo;s
+face, but the reaction was a little too sudden. He
+left us abruptly and stood looking out of the window
+for a minute or two. Then he returned, smiling,
+and held out his hand to Mr. Fothergill.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Fothergill, you&rsquo;re a brick!&rdquo; he declared
+emphatically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not another word, please!&rdquo; Mr. Fothergill
+answered, smiling. &ldquo;Now, look here, Lord Silchester,&rdquo;
+he added. &ldquo;Drink this glass of wine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil obeyed him promptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now you&rsquo;ll be so good as to have some
+luncheon with me,&rdquo; Mr. Fothergill continued.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care what you say. I don&rsquo;t believe you&rsquo;ve
+eaten anything to-day. Waiter, bring me those
+other cutlets I ordered and the game-pie, and&mdash;yes,
+I think we might venture on another bottle
+of wine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton, you must join us. Clever animal
+of yours&mdash;that one outside,&rdquo; he rattled on lightly;
+&ldquo;but I&rsquo;d have her taken out for an hour, if I were
+you. It&rsquo;s too cold for her to be standing about.
+Shall I ring the ostler&rsquo;s bell and tell him? And
+then, if you will, you might drive me down to the
+station, when you&rsquo;re ready to go. My train leaves
+a little before five.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whatever my former opinion of Mr. Fothergill
+had been, I felt bound to change it now. He was
+showing tact, good-nature, and a decidedly gentlemanly
+spirit. I had, in truth, eaten very little
+lunch at Borden Tower and Cecil none at all;
+and we proceeded to make good the omission.</p>
+<p>When, an hour or two later, we left Mr. Fothergill
+at the station, we were both of one mind concerning
+him, and we had both promised to accept
+his cordial invitation to run up to town and see
+him before long.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div>
+<p>On our way home Cecil stopped at the &ldquo;Rose and
+Crown,&rdquo; and went in to make his peace with Milly.
+I promised to call for him and went on to the photographer&rsquo;s
+up the street. Mr. Lawrence appeared
+at once from a back-room, which, I presume, was
+the studio, wiping his hands upon a not particularly
+clean-looking towel.</p>
+<p>I paid him in advance for a dozen photographs,
+promising to come in and have them taken next
+time I was in the town. Then I explained what
+was really the purport of my visit: Had he preserved
+the negative of the photograph which he
+had taken of Mr. Hart?</p>
+<p>Certainly he had, he assured me. I told him
+about the date and his head and shoulders disappeared
+into a cupboard. In a few minutes he
+withdrew them and called out sharply for his
+assistant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fenton,&rdquo; he exclaimed angrily, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ve been
+at this cupboard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Fenton, who was a tall, ungainly lad of most
+unprepossessing appearance, shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t been near it, sir!&rdquo; he declared.</p>
+<p>Mr. Lawrence looked incredulous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a negative missing!&rdquo; he said sharply;
+&ldquo;No one else could have meddled with it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it,&rdquo; the boy
+answered doggedly. &ldquo;Perhaps it&rsquo;s upstairs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Lawrence abandoned his search.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you&rsquo;ll excuse me a moment, sir,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have a look among the old ones.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I nodded and he closed the door and disappeared.
+Fenton would have gone, too, but I stopped him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; I said quickly; &ldquo;see this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I held out a five-pound note.</p>
+<p>He opened his eyes wide and looked at it
+longingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s yours if you&rsquo;ll tell me what you&rsquo;ve
+done with the negative of Mr. Hart&rsquo;s photograph.
+Quick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He hesitated.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_194">[194]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Should you split to the governor?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I sold it for a sovereign to a young
+gentleman what inquired for it a few minutes ago.
+A thin, dark chap he is. I don&rsquo;t know his name,
+but I&rsquo;ve seen him driving with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I threw him the note and left the place. I had
+now no doubt about the matter at all. de Cartienne
+had stolen the photograph of Mr. Hart
+from the &ldquo;Rose and Crown,&rdquo; and had bought the
+negative. Why?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_195">[195]</div>
+<h2 id="c33">CHAPTER XXXIII.
+<br /><span class="small">A GLEAM OF LIGHT.</span></h2>
+<p>After leaving the photographer&rsquo;s shop, I walked
+slowly across the little market-place and down
+the narrow street towards the &ldquo;Rose and
+Crown.&rdquo; My recent discovery had given me a
+good deal to think about, or rather, had afforded
+me matter for a variety of wild conjectures, but
+I could follow none of them to a very satisfactory
+conclusion. I was like a man groping
+in the dark. I had stumbled upon several
+very extraordinary and inexplicable facts; but
+what connection, if any, they had with one
+another, or how to link them together, I could
+not tell.</p>
+<p>I have always been somewhat absent-minded
+and, with my brain in such a whirl, it was
+not a very remarkable thing that I took a
+wrong turning. The moment I had discovered
+it I stopped short and looked round. I was in
+a little street that led past the back entrance of
+the &ldquo;Rose and Crown.&rdquo; It was scarcely a public
+thoroughfare.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_196">[196]</div>
+<p>I had already turned on my heel to retrace my
+steps, when I saw two figures standing talking at
+the back door of the inn. One I knew at a glance
+to be Milly Hart. Her companion was standing
+with his back to me, a muffler round his neck
+and his cap slouched over his eyes. In the gloom
+of the fast-falling twilight I did not at first recognise
+him; but when he turned round with a
+start at the sound of my approaching footsteps
+and withdrew his arm with a sudden movement
+from around his companion&rsquo;s waist, something
+in the motion and figure seemed familiar
+to me.</p>
+<p>My approach seemed to discompose them not
+a little. Milly stepped back at once into the doorway
+and disappeared; her companion, without
+waiting to make any adieu, turned round and
+walked swiftly away. As he crossed the street
+to make use of the only exit from it&mdash;a narrow
+passage leading through a court&mdash;I had a
+better view of him. He kept his back to me as
+much as possible and seemed to be using every
+endeavour to escape recognition. But although
+I could not be quite certain, I was pretty
+sure that it was Leonard de Cartienne&mdash;de
+Cartienne, who never missed an opportunity of
+sneering at Milly&rsquo;s innocent blue eyes and baby
+face.</p>
+<p>I turned back, and hurried round to the front
+entrance of the &ldquo;Rose and Crown.&rdquo; In the parlour
+I found Cecil and Milly sitting very close together
+upon a sofa.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo, old chap, you haven&rsquo;t been long!&rdquo;
+remarked Cecil, rising reluctantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should have been here before,&rdquo; I answered,
+looking steadily at Milly, &ldquo;but I took a wrong
+turning and got round the back of this place
+somehow. Saw you, didn&rsquo;t I, Miss Milly?&rdquo; I
+remarked.</p>
+<p>She raised her eyebrows and looked at me wonderingly
+out of her placid blue eyes.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Me? Oh, no! I have only just come downstairs,
+have I not, Cecil? It must have been one
+of the maids.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milly and I exchanged a steady gaze, her eyes
+meeting mine without drooping and her manner
+betraying only a mild surprise. It was a revelation
+to me, a lesson which I did not easily
+forget.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon, I&rsquo;m sure,&rdquo; I said, turning
+away. &ldquo;It was rather dark and no doubt I
+was mistaken. Strange, too; I thought it was de
+Cartienne with whom you were talking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil laughed carelessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear fellow, you must have been dreaming,&rdquo;
+he said; &ldquo;de Cartienne has not been here
+at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ready, Cecil?&rdquo; I asked, abandoning the
+subject. &ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ve kept Bess waiting about
+long enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come,&rdquo; he replied, drawing on his gloves.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve scarcely had a moment with you, Milly,
+though, have I? No news?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head sadly and the big tears
+stood in her eyes. There was no mistaking her
+earnestness now.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None about my father. My uncle and aunt
+are coming to stay here. I expect them tonight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Horrid nuisance that is!&rdquo; remarked Cecil,
+<i>sotto voce</i>. &ldquo;Never mind, you won&rsquo;t be so lonely,
+little woman, will you? And you won&rsquo;t have
+so much to look after. I must take you for
+a drive as soon as we get a fine, clear day;
+that&rsquo;ll bring some colour into your cheeks. Good-bye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She came to the door and watched us drive off.
+Cecil took the reins and I climbed to his side, and,
+folding my arms, sat for a while in gloomy silence.
+Then suddenly a gleam of light, or what I hoped
+might prove so, broke in upon me and I laid my
+hand upon Cecil&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Pull up, old chap&mdash;quick!&rdquo; I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>He did so, and looked at me wonderingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Turn round and drive back again as fast as
+you can,&rdquo; I said, my voice trembling a little
+with excitement; &ldquo;I want to ask Milly Hart a
+question.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div>
+<h2 id="c34">CHAPTER XXXIV.
+<br /><span class="small">DR. SCHOFIELD&rsquo;S OPINION.</span></h2>
+<p>In ten minutes we were in the streets of Little
+Drayton again, and Cecil had brought the dog cart
+to a standstill outside the &ldquo;Rose and Crown.&rdquo; He
+would have gone in with me, but I begged him not
+to. I jumped down and walked straight into the
+little parlour. Milly was sitting there alone, gazing
+absently into the fire. She looked up in surprise
+at my sudden entrance, and half rose.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milly, I want to ask you a question,&rdquo; I said,
+going up to her side. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s about your father&rsquo;s
+disappearance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; she exclaimed eagerly. &ldquo;What is it?
+Oh, do tell me quickly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only an idea. Did Mr. Hart ever suffer
+from any brain disorder at any time? That&rsquo;s all
+I want to know. Has his mind always been quite
+strong?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not answer for a moment and my heart
+beat fast. Looking at her closely, I could see that
+the colour had flushed into her cheeks and there
+was a troubled light in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has had one or two severe illnesses,&rdquo; she
+admitted slowly; &ldquo;brain fever once; and I&rsquo;m
+afraid he used to drink too much now and then.
+The doctor told him that he must be very careful
+not to excite himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Who was the doctor and where does he live?&rdquo;
+I asked quickly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dr. Schofield. He lives on the Lincoln Road,
+about a mile away. Why have you asked me
+this?&rdquo; she added anxiously.</p>
+<p>I evaded a direct reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind now,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;If anything comes
+of it, I will let you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She tried to detain me with further questions,
+but I hurried away and she did not follow me out
+of the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cis,&rdquo; I said, as I scrambled up to his side, &ldquo;I
+want you to go home by the Lincoln Road and
+call at Dr. Schofield&rsquo;s. It isn&rsquo;t far out of the way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right. You haven&rsquo;t found out anything
+about old Hart, have you? What was the question
+you went back to ask Milly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only about her father&rsquo;s health. No; I haven&rsquo;t
+found out anything. It&rsquo;s only an idea of mine I
+want to clear up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cecil looked as though he thought I might have
+told him what the idea was, but he said nothing.
+In a few minutes he pulled up outside a neat, red-brick
+house, which, as a shining brass plate indicated,
+was Dr. Schofield&rsquo;s abode.</p>
+<p>The doctor was in and disengaged. He came
+at once into the waiting-room, where I had been
+shown&mdash;a respectable family practitioner, with intelligent
+face and courteous manner.</p>
+<p>I explained my position as an acquaintance of
+Miss Hart&rsquo;s, interested in the mysterious disappearance
+of her father. It had occurred to me to make
+inquiries as to the state of his health, or, rather,
+his constitution, I added. Perhaps his prolonged
+absence might be accounted for by sudden and
+dangerous illness. Could Dr. Schofield give me any
+information?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div>
+<p>His manner was encouraging. He bade me take
+a seat and went into the matter gravely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To tell you the truth,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am rather
+surprised that I have not been appealed to before.
+In an ordinary case I should feel bound to maintain
+a strict secrecy with regard to the ailments of my
+patients, but this is different. As you have asked
+me this question, I feel bound to tell you what I
+would not otherwise divulge. Mr. Hart was my
+patient on two several occasions during the last
+two years for delirium tremens, and once within my
+recollection he had a distinct touch of brain fever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His mind would not be very strong, then?&rdquo; I
+remarked.</p>
+<p>Dr. Schofield hesitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He had a wonderful constitution,&rdquo; he said
+slowly&mdash;&ldquo;a constitution of iron. In ordinary circumstances
+I cannot bring myself to think that
+he could suddenly and completely have lost his
+reason. But supposing he had received some
+severe shock, such as a railway accident, or something
+of that sort, why, then it would be possible,
+even probable, he might become a raving lunatic
+in a moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And would his madness be incurable?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If properly treated, with a knowledge of his
+past ailment&mdash;no,&rdquo; answered Dr. Schofield; &ldquo;but
+if he were treated just like an ordinary madman
+in a pauper lunatic asylum, he would probably
+never recover. He would become worse and worse
+and finally be incurable. I see two objections to
+accepting any theory of this sort as accounting
+for his disappearance,&rdquo; the doctor continued, after
+a short pause. &ldquo;In the first place the shock would
+have to be violent and unexpected, and this seems
+improbable; in the next place, he would surely
+have had some letter or something about him
+which would have led to his identification!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;If the shock were the result of foul play, these
+would be destroyed,&rdquo; I suggested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Undoubtedly; but whence the foul play?
+Hart is known to have had only a few pounds
+with him when he left.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he had something in his keeping more
+valuable than money,&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A secret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you any grounds for such a belief?&rdquo; the
+doctor asked curiously.</p>
+<p>I hesitated. In my own mind I believed that I
+had; but for the present, at any rate, this was
+best kept to myself. I answered quite truthfully,
+however.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have made a few inquiries here and there,&rdquo;
+I said, &ldquo;and I have heard it hinted that he had
+some secret means of replenishing his purse. He has
+been known more than once to leave here with
+only a few sovereigns in his pocket and to come
+back with his sovereigns turned into banknotes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I remember hearing some such tale,&rdquo; the doctor
+remarked. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid it is all rather vague,
+though.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much obliged to you, Dr. Schofield,&rdquo;
+I assured him, rising to take my leave.</p>
+<p>He followed me to the door and then returned
+to his interrupted dinner. I mounted into the
+dog cart and we were soon bowling through the
+darkness towards Borden Tower.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Get anything out of the old chap?&rdquo; Cecil
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not much. I&rsquo;m just a little wiser than I was
+before, that&rsquo;s all. Beastly sorry to keep you waiting
+so long!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all right! But I say, Phil,&rdquo; he
+added, &ldquo;what is this idea of yours? You can
+tell me, can&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;If it comes to anything, I will,&rdquo; I assured him.
+&ldquo;But at present it is altogether too vague and
+you would only laugh at it. Don&rsquo;t ask me anything
+more about it yet, there&rsquo;s a good fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re very close, all of a sudden,&rdquo; he grumbled.
+&ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t you tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I&rsquo;m afraid of your letting it out to
+someone whom I don&rsquo;t want to know anything
+about it,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, well, perhaps you&rsquo;re right!&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t keep anything back from Milly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I echoed his laugh, but held my peace. It was
+not Milly alone from whom I wished my present
+idea to be kept a secret. In fact, I had not
+thought of Milly at all. I was only anxious that
+de Cartienne should remain altogether in the dark
+as to my clue; and for a remarkably good reason.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div>
+<h2 id="c35">CHAPTER XXXV.
+<br /><span class="small">AN INVITATION.</span></h2>
+<p>We drove straight into the courtyard, having no
+groom with us and entered the house from the
+back. As we passed the little room on the ground
+floor given up for our sole use as a repository for
+cricket-nets, fishing-tackle, guns, spare harness,
+and such like appliances, I opened the door, intending
+to hang my whip up. To my surprise
+de Cartienne was there in an old coat, with his
+sleeves turned up, cleaning a gun. He looked up
+and greeted us as we entered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a time you men have been! What have
+you been up to in Little Drayton?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we had lunch with your friend Fothergill
+and shacked about,&rdquo; Cecil answered. &ldquo;Tell you
+what, Len, he&rsquo;s a very decent fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne was examining the lock of his gun
+with great attention, and in the dusk I could not
+catch his expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Fothergill&rsquo;s all right!&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;You
+didn&rsquo;t find him very hungry for his winnings, did
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should think not,&rdquo; Cecil replied enthusiastically.
+&ldquo;Why, I believe he was actually annoyed
+with himself for having won at all. I&rsquo;ve given
+him my I O U&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll most likely tear them up,&rdquo; de Cartienne
+remarked. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s beastly rich and he can&rsquo;t want
+the money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you drop across him, Len?&rdquo; asked
+Cecil, seating himself upon a chest and lighting a
+cigarette.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a friend of my governor&rsquo;s. I&rsquo;ve known
+him ever since I was a kid,&rdquo; de Cartienne answered
+slowly. &ldquo;There, I think that&rsquo;ll do!&rdquo; critically
+looking at the gleaming muzzle which he held in
+his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why this sudden fit of industry?&rdquo; inquired
+Cecil, yawning. &ldquo;Going to do any shooting?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne nodded and began deliberately
+pulling the gun to pieces.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I&rsquo;ve had a long day indoors to-day
+and I mean to make up for it by potting some
+wild duck to-morrow. Hilliers told me that
+he&rsquo;d heard of some very fair sport round by
+Rushey Ponds last week. You&rsquo;d better come with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, I&rsquo;ll see,&rdquo; Cecil answered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not
+very keen on wild duck potting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you been out all day, then, de Cartienne?&rdquo;
+I asked&mdash;&ldquo;not even to Drayton?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not outside the house,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Do I
+look like it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He pointed to his slippered feet, his old clothes,
+and held up his hands, black with oil and grease,
+I took in the details of his appearance, feeling a
+little bewildered. It seemed barely possible that
+he could have been in Little Drayton an hour
+ago.</p>
+<p>The dressing-bell rang out and we hurried off
+to our rooms, for Dr. Randall, easy-going enough
+in some things, was strictness itself with regard to
+our punctuality at dinner-time. But no sooner
+had I seen de Cartienne safely in his room than
+I softly made my way downstairs again and crossed
+the yard to the stables.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div>
+<p>It was as I had expected. The stall in which
+de Cartienne kept his mare was carefully closed,
+but through the chinks I could see that a lamp
+was burning inside.</p>
+<p>I tried the door softly, but it was locked. Then
+I knocked. There was no answer. Turning away,
+I entered the next stall and, mounting a step-ladder,
+looked over the partition.</p>
+<p>I saw very much what I had expected to see&mdash;de
+Cartienne&rsquo;s thoroughbred mare splashed all
+over with mud and still trembling with nervous
+fatigue, and by her side Dick, the stable-boy, holding
+a wet sponge in his hand and looking up at me
+with a scared, disconsolate expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it be you, be it, Muster Morton?&rdquo; he exclaimed
+rather sullenly.</p>
+<p>I looked down at Diana.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How came she in that exhausted condition?&rdquo;
+I asked. &ldquo;And why have you locked the
+door?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Dick hesitated, and I tossed him a half-crown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The truth now, Dick,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;And I won&rsquo;t
+let Mr. de Cartienne know that I&rsquo;ve seen her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He brightened up at once and pocketed the half-crown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s kind o&rsquo; yer, sir!&rdquo; he exclaimed, evidently
+much relieved. &ldquo;All I know, sir, is that
+Muster de Cartienne he come in riding like mad
+along the Drayton Road &rsquo;bout &rsquo;arf an hour ago,
+and he says to me, &lsquo;Dick, take Diana, lock her up
+in the stable and don&rsquo;t let no one know as she&rsquo;s
+been out. Just attend to her yourself and rub
+her down carefully, for I&rsquo;ve been obliged to ride
+fast.&rsquo; And with that he guv me summut and hoff
+he went into the &rsquo;ouse.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Dick,&rdquo; I said, getting down from
+the ladder, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all I wanted to know.&rdquo; And I
+crossed the yard to the house again and hurried
+upstairs to change my things.</p>
+<p>We had two deliveries of letters at Borden Tower,
+and just as we were leaving the dinner-table that
+evening the late post arrived. There was a letter
+for me, a somewhat unusual occurrence, and a
+single glance at the arms and the bold, characteristic
+handwriting set me longing to open it, for it was
+from Mr. Ravenor. As soon as the cloth was
+cleared I did so.</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Philip,&rdquo; it commenced, &ldquo;I am thinking
+of travelling for several years, perhaps for longer,
+and should like to see you before I go. Come and
+stay here for a few days. I am writing Dr. Randall
+and also Cecil, who will accompany you. You
+will leave Borden Tower to-morrow and I will
+send to Mellborough to meet the 5.18. Bring some
+clothes, as there will be some people stopping here.&mdash;Yours,</p>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="verse">
+<p class="lr">&ldquo;<span class="sc">Bernard Ravenor</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+<p>I looked up from the letter with a great sense of
+relief and met Cecil&rsquo;s delighted gaze.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah, old chap!&rdquo; he exclaimed, only half
+under his breath. &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t we have a rare old
+time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cave!&rdquo; I whispered, for the doctor was looking
+our way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More vacation,&rdquo; he remarked, in a grumbling
+tone, which was made up for, however, by a good-natured
+smile. &ldquo;Upon my word, I don&rsquo;t know
+how Mr. Ravenor imagines you&rsquo;re ever going to
+learn anything! However, I suppose you must
+go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>de Cartienne looked up inquiringly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to stay at Ravenor Castle for a
+week,&rdquo; Cecil explained. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re off to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div>
+<p>I leaned forward and watched de Cartienne&rsquo;s
+face intently. There was an expression in it which
+I could not analyse. It might have been pleasure,
+or apprehension, or indifference. Though I watched
+him narrowly, I could not make up my mind whether
+he was more dismayed or gratified at the prospect
+of our visit.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div>
+<h2 id="c36">CHAPTER XXXVI.
+<br /><span class="small">A METAMORPHOSIS.</span></h2>
+<p>It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis
+had taken place within the walls of
+Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it
+we had the first intimation of its altered aspect.
+Instead of the one or two solitary lights shining
+above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of
+illumination, and when we drew up at the great
+front door the change was still mere apparent.
+Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving
+about the hall. From open doors there came the
+sound of laughing voices, and even Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s
+manner, as he came out to meet us, seemed
+altered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in and have some tea here,&rdquo; he said,
+leading the way to one of the smaller rooms. &ldquo;Your
+mother is here, Cecil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We followed him into Lady Silchester&rsquo;s favourite
+apartment. Several ladies and one or two men
+were lounging on divans and in easy chairs around
+a brightly-blazing fire. Lady Silchester, who was
+presiding at a green-and-gold S&egrave;vres tea-service,
+welcomed us both with a languid smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Cis, how you have grown!&rdquo; she said,
+leaning back in her chair and leisurely sipping her
+tea. &ldquo;I declare I had no idea that I had a son
+your height, sir! Had you, Lord Penraven?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div>
+<p>Lord Penraven, who was lounging by her side
+with his elbow upon the mantelpiece, stroked a
+long, fair moustache vigorously and answered with
+emphasis:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Pon my word, I hadn&rsquo;t the slightest idea.
+Seems almost impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me give you boys some tea!&rdquo; Lady Silchester
+said, in her sweetest tone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None for me, thanks, mother,&rdquo; replied Cecil.
+&ldquo;Why, Ag&mdash;Miss Hamilton, is that really you
+over in the corner?&rdquo; he exclaimed, rising and
+crossing the room. &ldquo;How awfully jolly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lady Silchester shrugged her shoulders and
+turned to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I took the cup which she had filled and the
+conversation which our entrance had interrupted
+flowed on again. Presently Mr. Ravenor, who
+had been standing on the hearthrug talking to a
+stately, grey-haired lady who occupied the seat
+of honour&mdash;a black oak arm-chair drawn up to
+the fire,&mdash;moved over to my side and dropped
+into a vacant seat between Lady Silchester and
+myself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Philip,&rdquo; he said softly, &ldquo;you seem lost in
+thought. Are you wondering whether a magician&rsquo;s
+wand has touched Ravenor Castle?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It all seems very different,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course. Nothing like change, you know.
+It is only by comparison that we can appreciate.
+Stagnation sharpens one&rsquo;s appetite for gaiety, and
+one must go through a course of overwork before
+one can taste the full sweetness of an idle country
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div>
+<p>Then Mr. Ravenor was silent for a minute, leaning
+back in his chair and looking steadily into the
+fire, and by the dancing, fitful light of the flames
+I could see that the old weariness and deep indefinable
+sadness had stolen into his pale face and
+dark eyes. It was only a passing change. The
+sound of the laughing voices around seemed suddenly
+to galvanise him into consciousness of the
+<i>r&ocirc;le</i> which he was playing and the expression
+faded away. Someone asked him a question and
+he answered it with a light jest. Once more he
+was the courteous, smiling host, whose sole thought
+appeared to be the entertainment of his guests.
+But I knew that there was a background.</p>
+<p>The dressing-bell rang and the gossiping assembly
+broke up. Mr. Ravenor, standing with the opened
+door in his hand, exchanged little happy speeches
+with most of the ladies as they swept out. When
+they were all gone he turned to Cecil and me and
+looked at us critically, with a faint smile upon his
+lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, are you ready for your matric., Cecil?&rdquo;
+he asked.</p>
+<p>Cecil made a wry face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall be soon, uncle!&rdquo; he declared hopefully,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m getting on now first rate. Morton here
+makes me work like a Trojan.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right! And you, Philip? I hope my
+lazy nephew doesn&rsquo;t keep you back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Morton&rsquo;s all right for his matric. whenever
+he likes to go in for it!&rdquo; broke in Cecil.</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! You&rsquo;d better go and dress now, both
+of you; Richards is waiting to show you your
+rooms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We passed up the great oak staircase, and on
+the first corridor we came face to face with a slim
+little figure in a white frock, walking demurely by
+the side of her maid, with her ruddy, golden hair
+tumbled about her oval face and an expectant
+light in her dancing blue eyes.</p>
+<p>Directly she saw us she flew into Cecil&rsquo;s arms.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Cis, Cis, Cis, how delightful! How glad
+I am that you have come! They only just told
+me! And how do you do, Mr. Morton?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She held out a very diminutive palm and looked
+up at me with a beaming smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m quite well, thank you, Lady Beatrice,&rdquo; I
+answered, looking down with keen pleasure into
+her sweet, childish face, and repressing a strong
+desire to take her up in my arms, as Cecil had done,
+and give her a kiss.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You remember me, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;I remember you
+quite well! Your name is Philip, isn&rsquo;t it? You
+told me that I might call you by it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we must go now, dear,&rdquo; Cecil said, stroking
+her hair. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to dress for dinner, you
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; The exclamation was drawn out and
+the little face fell. Suddenly it brightened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil, what do you think? I&rsquo;ve got a pony,
+a real pony of my own. Will you come for a ride
+with me to-morrow? Please, please, do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; he promised carelessly.</p>
+<p>She clapped her hands and looked up at me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you come too, Philip?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to very much indeed,&rdquo; I answered
+unhesitatingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s delightful!&rdquo; she exclaimed gleefully.
+&ldquo;We will have such a nice ride! You shall see
+Queenie canter; she does go so fast! Good-bye
+now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She tripped away by the side of her maid, turning
+round more than once to wave her hand to us.
+Then we hurried along to our rooms, which were
+at the end of the wide, marble-pillared corridor
+and opened one into the other. Our portmanteaux
+had been placed in readiness, so dressing was not
+a tedious business. I had finished first and lounged
+in an easy chair, watching Cecil struggle with a
+refractory white tie.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;How pretty your sister is, Cis!&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Think so? She&rsquo;s rather an odd little thing,&rdquo;
+declared her brother, absently surveying himself
+at last with satisfaction in the long pier-glass.
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t know you&rsquo;d ever seen her before. I say&rdquo;&mdash;with
+sudden emphasis&mdash;&ldquo;isn&rsquo;t Aggie Hamilton a
+jolly good-looking girl?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve scarcely seen her yet,&rdquo; I reminded him.
+&ldquo;Rather a chatterbox, isn&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chatterbox? Not she!&rdquo; Cecil protested indignantly.
+&ldquo;Why&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The rumble of a gong reached us from below.
+Cecil stopped short in his speech and hurried
+me out of the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, sharp!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;That
+means dinner in ten minutes, and I promised to
+get down into the drawing-room first and introduce
+you to Aggie. Come on!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We descended into the hall and a tall footman
+threw open the door of the long suite of drawing
+and ante-rooms in which the guests at the Castle
+were rapidly assembling. To me, who had seen
+nothing of the sort before, it was a brilliant sight.
+Four rooms, all of stately dimensions and all
+draped with amber satin of the same shade, were
+thrown into one by the upraising of heavy, clinging
+curtains, and each one seemed filled with groups
+of charmingly-dressed women and little knots of
+men. A low, incessant buzz of conversation floated
+about in the air, which was laden with the scent
+of exotics and dainty perfumes. The light was
+brilliant, but soft, for the marble figures around
+the walls held out silver lamps covered with gauzy
+rose-coloured shades.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
+<p>We passed through two of the rooms before we
+found the young lady of whom Cecil was in search.
+Then we came upon her suddenly, sitting quite
+alone and idly turning over the pages of a book
+of engravings. Cecil jogged me excitedly with
+his elbow in a manner which elsewhere would have
+brought down anathemas and possibly retribution
+upon his head. As it was, however, I had to bear
+the pain like a Spartan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, isn&rsquo;t she stunning?&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<p>I answered in the affirmative, carefully removing
+myself from the range of his elbow. Then we
+approached her, and she closed the book of engravings
+with a comical air of relief and made room for
+us beside her.</p>
+<p>She was even prettier than I had expected, with
+dark hair and eyes, dazzling complexion, a perfect
+figure of the <i>petite</i> order, and faultless teeth, which
+she was by no means averse from showing. She
+wore a black lace gown, with a good deal of scarlet
+about it and a deep red rose in her bosom. Altogether,
+I was scarcely surprised at Cecil&rsquo;s captivation.</p>
+<p>If not actually a chatterbox, she was certainly
+possessed of the art of talking nonsense very volubly,
+and making others talk it. Before dinner was
+announced by a dignified-looking functionary we
+had got through quite an amazing amount of conversation.
+It fell to Cecil&rsquo;s lot to take in his inamorata,
+whilst I was far away behind with the
+middle-aged wife of a country clergyman. She
+was very pleasant, though, and I was quite content
+to do but little talking throughout the long banquet,
+for it was all new to me and interesting.</p>
+<p>The vast dining-hall&mdash;it was really the picture-gallery&mdash;the
+many servants in rich liveries, the
+emblazoned plate, the glittering glasses, and the
+brilliant snatches of conversation which floated
+around me, all were a revelation. Very soon the
+effect of it passed away and I was able to choose
+my wines and select my dishes, and was free to
+take part if I chose in the talk. But for that first
+evening I was content to remain silent and, as far
+as possible, unnoticed.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
+<p>Dinner, which had seemed to me to be growing
+interminable, came to an end at last. Lady Silchester,
+at the head of a long file of stately women,
+swept down the polished floor, and the procession
+departed with much rustling of robes. Some of
+the vacant chairs were taken possession of by
+men, and already delicate blue clouds of smoke
+were curling upwards to the vaulted ceiling. It
+was the short period dearer to the heart of man
+than any during the day. Every one stretched
+out his stiff limbs, filled his glass and assumed
+his favourite attitude. Voices were raised and
+a sudden change of tone crept in upon the conversation.
+Only Mr. Ravenor and a few of the
+older guests appeared to be still engrossed in the
+discussion of some abstruse scientific controversy
+then raging in the reviews. Everyone else seemed
+to be talking lightly of the day&rsquo;s sport, the arrangements
+for the morrow, and his own and other
+men&rsquo;s horses.</p>
+<p>It was getting a little slow for me. Cecil had
+found some friends, and the sound of his hearty
+boyish laugh came to me often from the other end
+of the table. My immediate neighbours were a
+bishop, who was deep in discussion with a minor
+canon concerning the doings of some recent diocesan
+conference, at which things seemed to have been
+more lively than harmonious; and on my other side
+Lord Penraven was quarrelling with the lord lieutenant
+of the county about the pedigree of a racehorse.
+Both disputes were utterly without interest
+to me, and it was no small relief when, as I
+caught Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s eye, he beckoned me to
+a vacant chair by his side.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div>
+<p>The conversation, which had been for a moment
+interrupted, was soon renewed. I sat silent,
+listening with ever-increasing admiration to the
+play of words, the subtle arguments, and the epigrammatic
+brilliancy of expression which flashed
+from one to another of the four disputants. Had
+I known anything of the social or literary life of
+London I might have been less astonished, for
+Mr. Ravenor and two of his antagonists, Mr.
+Justice Haselton and Professor Clumbers, were
+reckoned among the finest talkers of their day.</p>
+<p>At last Mr. Ravenor, very much to my regret,
+brought the conversation to an abrupt close by
+proposing an exodus to the drawing-rooms. A few
+of the younger men looked eager to depart, but the
+majority rose and stretched themselves with the
+sad faces of martyrs before forming themselves into
+little groups and quitting the room. Mr. Ravenor
+remained until the last and motioned me to stay
+with him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Philip,&rdquo; he said, when everyone had gone,
+&ldquo;how are you getting on at Dr. Randall&rsquo;s? Do
+you like being there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very much for some things,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>He looked at me closely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is something you have to tell me,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I glanced around at the little army of servants
+moving noiselessly about on all sides.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is something,&rdquo; I acknowledged, &ldquo;but I
+would rather tell it you when we are quite alone.
+Besides, it is rather a long story. It has mostly
+to do with Mr. Marx.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The calm, stately serenity of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s face
+underwent a sudden change. His dark brows almost
+met into his eyes, which I could not read.
+The change strengthened the impression which
+had lately been growing upon me. There was
+some deep mystery connected with the personality
+of Mr. Marx in which Mr. Ravenor was somehow
+concerned.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What about Mr. Marx? What can you have
+to say to me about him?&rdquo; he asked coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More than I should care to say here,&rdquo; I answered,
+glancing around. &ldquo;It is rather a long&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come into the library to me the last thing tonight,&rdquo;
+he said quickly. &ldquo;I must know what this
+story is that you have got hold of. We will go into
+the drawing-room now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a few moments the cloud had vanished from
+his face and he was again the polished host. And
+I, under protest, was inveigled into a corner by Miss
+Agnes Hamilton, and given my first lesson in the
+fashionable art of flirting.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
+<h2 id="c37">CHAPTER XXXVII.
+<br /><span class="small">MR. MARX IS WANTED.</span></h2>
+<p>It was long past midnight before the last little
+knots of guests had wished one another good
+night, and even then Lord Penraven and a
+few chosen companions only adjourned to a
+smaller smoking-room in the back regions of
+the Castle. I knew that Mr. Ravenor was not
+with them, however, for I had seen him, after
+having outstayed all save this handful of his guests,
+cross the hall and enter the library. In about half
+an hour I followed him.</p>
+<p>I had expected to find him resting after the
+great strain which the multitude and importance
+of his guests must have imposed upon him during
+the day. But I found him very differently employed.
+He was bending low over his writing-table,
+with a cup of tea by his side, and already
+several sheets of closely-written foolscap were
+scattered about the table. At the sound of my
+entrance he looked up at once and laid down his
+pen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sit there,&rdquo; he said, pointing to an easy-chair
+opposite to him. &ldquo;I want to see your face while
+you are talking. Now, what is this tale which you
+have to tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div>
+<p>His manner was far from encouraging and his
+face wore a severe expression. Altogether I felt
+a little nervous. But it had to be done, so I
+began.</p>
+<p>First I told him all about Leonard de Cartienne,
+his bad influence over Cecil, and his correspondence
+with Mr. Marx. He listened without remark.
+Then I paused to take breath.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you&rsquo;ll say about the rest
+of my story,&rdquo; I went on. &ldquo;I scarcely know what
+to think of it myself. But here it is. There is an
+inn in Little Drayton kept by a man named Hart,
+and Cecil and de Cartienne go there&mdash;sometimes.
+About a month before I went to Borden Tower
+the man Hart disappeared. He left home on a
+journey, the nature of which he kept secret even
+from his daughter, and has never returned or been
+heard of. All the information which his daughter
+can give is that he has left home before on a similar
+errand and invariably returned with money after
+three or four days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I paused and glanced at Mr. Ravenor. He was
+looking a little puzzled, but not particularly interested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;About a month before I left here for Borden
+Tower,&rdquo; I went on, &ldquo;I met Mr. Marx in Torchester
+and drove home with him late at night. On the
+moor we were furiously attacked by a man who
+seemed to be mad and Mr. Marx was slightly injured.
+Two days afterwards Mr. Marx was assaulted
+by the same man in the park, and if I had not
+turned up he would probably have been killed.
+The man was a lunatic in every respect, save one.
+He recognized Mr. Marx as his enemy and made
+deliberate attempts upon his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor softly pulled down the green lampshade
+on the side nearest to him, and in the subdued
+light I could scarcely see his face, but I felt
+that his interest in my story was growing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, of course, when Cecil began talking about
+this man Hart&rsquo;s disappearance,&rdquo; I continued, &ldquo;and
+I heard a good deal about it at Little Drayton,
+I began to think about this lunatic whom no
+one knew anything about. I put down the exact
+dates, and I found that Hart must have left Little
+Drayton about a week before the first attack on
+Mr. Marx by the unknown madman. Of course,
+this by itself was scarcely worth thinking about,
+but the strangest part of it is to come. More out
+of curiosity than anything, I asked to see a photograph
+of Mr. Hart. His daughter took us into
+the sitting-room to look at one and to her amazement
+found it gone. All search was unavailing.
+Someone had taken it away. Well, I found out
+where it had been taken and went to order a copy.
+It was no use. The negative had been sold to the
+same person who alone could have entered Miss
+Hart&rsquo;s sitting-room and abstracted the photograph.
+That person was Leonard de Cartienne, and he
+has been in communication with Mr. Marx, the
+man whom the lunatic tried to murder. Can you
+make anything of that, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Apparently Mr. Ravenor had made something
+of it. He was leaning a little forward in his chair
+and at the sight of his face a great fear came upon
+me.</p>
+<p>A ghastly change had crept into it. His eyes
+were burning with a dry, fierce fire, and the pallor
+extended even to his lips.</p>
+<p>He sat forward, with his long, wasted fingers,
+stretched out convulsively before his face, like a
+man who sees a hideous vision pass before his sight
+and yet remains spellbound, powerless to speak, or
+move, or break away from the loathsome spectacle.</p>
+<p>Sickly beads of perspiration stood out upon his
+clammy forehead and his dry lips were moving,
+although no sound came from them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div>
+<p>I gazed at him in a speechless horror, and as I
+looked the room and all its contents seemed to swim
+around me. What could Mr. Ravenor have found
+so awful in the story which I had told and how
+could it concern him?</p>
+<p>Suddenly he rose from his seat and stood over
+me. I was more than ever alarmed at his strange
+expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a third connection,&rdquo; he said hoarsely.
+&ldquo;Do you remember that a man called to see me,
+whom I declined to admit, on the night of your
+first visit here? When I changed my mind he had
+disappeared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I gave a little cry and felt my blood run
+cold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Marx had something to do with that,&rdquo; I
+faltered out. &ldquo;I met him under the trees in the
+avenue and he was horribly frightened to see me.
+I had heard a cry. I was listening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor stretched out his hand to the bell
+and rang it violently. We sat in silence, dreading
+almost to look at one another until it was
+answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go to Mr. Marx&rsquo;s room and bid him come here
+at once,&rdquo; Mr. Ravenor commanded.</p>
+<p>The man bowed and withdrew. When he reappeared
+he carried in his hand a letter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Marx left this on his desk for you, sir,&rdquo; he
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Left it! Where is he? Is he not in the
+Castle?&rdquo; questioned Mr. Ravenor sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir. He had a dog cart about half-past four
+to catch the London express at Mellborough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor tore open the note and then threw
+it across to me. There were only a few words:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Mr. Ravenor,&mdash;Kindly excuse me for
+a day or two. Important business of a private
+nature calls me hurriedly to London. If you
+are writing me, my address will be at the <i>Hotel
+Metropole</i>. M.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div>
+<p>There was a silence between us. Then I looked
+into Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s colourless face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must find that lunatic,&rdquo; I whispered.</p>
+<p>Mr. Ravenor turned from me with a shudder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must do nothing of the sort.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div>
+<h2 id="c38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+<br /><span class="small">I ACCEPT A MISSION.</span></h2>
+<p>There was a silence which threatened to last for
+ever.</p>
+<p>At length Mr. Ravenor turned his head slightly
+and looked towards me. The eagerness which he saw
+in my face seemed to strike some grim vein of
+humour in him, for his lips parted a dreary,
+fleeting smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you expecting to hear a confession?&rdquo; he
+asked, as it passed away.</p>
+<p>A confession from him! God forbid! From him
+who had ever seemed to me so far above other men,
+that none other were worthy to be classed with him!
+All the old fire of my boyish hero-worship blazed
+up at the very thought. A confession from him!
+The bare idea was sacrilegious.</p>
+<p>He read his answer in the mute, amazed protest
+of my looks, and did not wait for the words which
+were trembling upon my lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would do you little good to tell you all that
+your story has suggested to me,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+&ldquo;Some day you will know everything; but not yet&mdash;not
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He paused and walked slowly up and down the
+room, with his hands behind him and his eyes fixed
+upon the floor. Suddenly he stopped and looked
+up.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_224">[224]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Marx must come back at once,&rdquo; he said, with
+something of his old firmness. &ldquo;I shall send him a
+telegram to-morrow to return immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if he doesn&rsquo;t come?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must go to him. This matter must be cleared
+up as far as it can be and at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your guests,&rdquo; I reminded him. &ldquo;How can you
+leave them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forgot them,&rdquo; he exclaimed impatiently.
+&ldquo;Philip, will you go?&rdquo; he asked suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I answered quietly, although my heart
+was beating fast. &ldquo;Yes, I will go. Perhaps it
+would be best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He let his hand rest for a moment upon my
+shoulder, and, though he did not say so, I knew that
+he was pleased. Then he glanced at the clock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Two o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Philip, you
+must leave me now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I looked towards his writing-table, at which he
+was already seating himself, and hesitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are not going to write now?&rdquo; I ventured
+to protest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I pointed to the clock; but he only smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am no slave to regular hours,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+&ldquo;An hour or two&rsquo;s sleep is enough for me at a time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So I left him.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_225">[225]</div>
+<h2 id="c39">CHAPTER XXXIX.
+<br /><span class="small">MY RIDE.</span></h2>
+<p>It was a few minutes past nine when I descended
+into the long, oaken gallery where breakfast was
+served, and at the head of the principal table sat
+Mr. Ravenor in hunting costume. Everyone who
+was down was evidently bound for the meet. The
+men were nearly all in scarlet coats, and the women
+in riding-habits and trim little hats, with their
+veils pushed back. There was a great clatter of
+knives and forks, and a good deal of carving going
+on at the long, polished sideboard, and above it
+all, a loud hum of cheerful talk; altogether it was a
+very pleasant meal that was in progress.</p>
+<p>I was making my way towards a gap in the table
+at the lower end when I heard my name called,
+and looked down into Miss Hamilton&rsquo;s piquant, upturned
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come and sit by me,&rdquo; she exclaimed, moving
+her skirts to make room. &ldquo;See. I&rsquo;ve hidden a chair
+here&mdash;for somebody.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I took it with a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, as somebody is so very lazy this morning,&rdquo;
+I said, &ldquo;he doesn&rsquo;t deserve to have it; so I will.
+Can I get you anything?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_226">[226]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks. Look after yourself, do, for we
+shall have to start presently. And now tell me,
+how did you know for whom I was saving that
+chair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I supposed it was for Cis,&rdquo; I remarked,
+making a vigorous attack upon an adjacent ham.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! And supposing I were to say that it
+wasn&rsquo;t&mdash;that it was for someone else?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Cis!&rdquo; I said, with a sigh. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t tell
+me who the someone else was, Miss Hamilton,
+please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I shall hate him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For Lord Silchester&rsquo;s sake?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; for my own.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton, you&rsquo;re talking nonsense.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, didn&rsquo;t you undertake to teach me how
+last evening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Teach you! Oh!&rdquo;&mdash;a little ironically&mdash;&ldquo;you&rsquo;re
+a very apt pupil, Mr. Morton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I looked at her in mute remonstrance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With such a tutor, Miss Hamilton&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stopped me, laughing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;re a dreadful boy! Let me give you
+some tea to keep you quiet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I drew a long sigh and attacked my breakfast
+vigorously. Presently she began again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know Nanpantan, Mr. Morton, where
+the meet is this morning?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; I answered, cutting myself some
+more ham. &ldquo;Do you mind giving me another cup
+of tea, Miss Hamilton? It was so good!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She nodded and drew off her thick dogskin glove
+again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You thirsty mortal!&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+afraid you must have been smoking too much last
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One cigarette,&rdquo; I assured her. &ldquo;No more, upon
+my honour.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_227">[227]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Really! Then you won&rsquo;t get any more tea
+from me to unsteady your nerves. Now tell me,
+Mr. Morton, do you know this country?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Every inch of it. No one better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, how nice! And you&rsquo;ll give me a lead to-day,
+won&rsquo;t you? I do so want to do well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should be delighted,&rdquo; I answered; &ldquo;but,
+unfortunately, I&rsquo;m not going to hunt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not going to hunt! Then what are you going
+to do, pray?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Going for a ride with a young lady,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, indeed!&rdquo;&mdash;with a toss of the head.</p>
+<p>There was a short silence. Then curiosity conquered
+the fit of indignation which Miss Hamilton
+had thought well to assume.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I ask the name of the fortunate young
+lady?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may,&rdquo; I answered calmly, helping myself
+to toast. &ldquo;It is little Lady Beatrice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She burst into a peal of laughter, but stopped
+suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What nonsense! Are you going to take the
+groom&rsquo;s place, then, and hold the leading-rein?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If she rides with one, very likely,&rdquo; I answered.</p>
+<p>There was a short silence. Then Miss Hamilton
+returned to the charge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How old is your inamorata?&rdquo; she inquired.
+&ldquo;Seven or eight?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twelve next birthday,&rdquo; I answered promptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite too ridiculous!&rdquo; she declared, tossing
+her head. &ldquo;I really wanted you to come with me
+this morning, because you know the country,&rdquo; she
+added, with a sidelong glance from her dark eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing would have given me greater pleasure,&rdquo;
+I declared; &ldquo;but a promise is a promise, you know,
+and we made this one before we knew any thing
+about the meet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We! Who are we?&rdquo; she asked quickly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cis and I.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_228">[228]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil won&rsquo;t go if I ask him to come with me,&rdquo;
+she said confidently.</p>
+<p>I shrugged my shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not. The more reason why I should.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She turned away from me half amused, half vexed.
+Just then Cecil appeared, and she beckoned him
+eagerly to her side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil, Mr. Morton tells me that you have promised
+to ride with Beatrice this morning,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So we did,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Awfully sorry to
+disappoint her, but, of course, I didn&rsquo;t know anything
+about the meet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am glad that you are not going to desert
+me, then,&rdquo; she said, laughing. &ldquo;Mr. Morton declares
+that he is going to keep his engagement.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good of him, if he is,&rdquo; remarked Cecil,
+stirring his tea with great cheerfulness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t pity me,&rdquo; I said, rising. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I
+shall enjoy it. <i>Au revoir</i>, Miss Hamilton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And I did enjoy it. Many a time afterwards I
+thought of that slim little figure in the long riding-habit,
+her golden hair streaming in the breeze, and
+her dainty, flushed face aglow with excitement and
+delight, and of the pleasant prattle which her little
+ladyship poured into my willing ears. I remembered,
+too, her quaint, na&iuml;ve ways, and the grave
+way in which she thanked me for taking care of her&mdash;little
+mannerisms which soon yielded to familiarity
+and vanished altogether. And, strange though it
+may seem, I found always more satisfaction in
+recalling these things than the winged look and
+merry speeches of Miss Agnes Hamilton.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_229">[229]</div>
+<h2 id="c40">CHAPTER XL.
+<br /><span class="small">MY MISSION.</span></h2>
+<p>For the first time in my life I was in London&mdash;and
+alone. There had been no reply from Mr. Marx
+to the telegrams commanding his instant return,
+and so on the third morning after my arrival at
+Ravenor Castle I quitted it again to go in search of
+him. Accustomed though he was to conceal his
+feelings, and admirably though he succeeded in
+doing so in the presence of his guests, I could see
+that Mr. Ravenor was deeply anxious to have the
+suspicions which my story had awakened either
+dispelled or confirmed. Nor, indeed, although their
+purport was scarcely so clear to me, was I less so.</p>
+<p>I suppose that no one, especially if he had never
+before been in a great city, could pass across London
+for the first time without some emotion of wonder.
+To me it was like entering an unknown world. The
+vast throng of people, the ceaseless din of traffic,
+and the huge buildings, all filled me with amazement
+which, as we drove through the Strand to Northumberland
+Avenue, grew into bewilderment. Only
+the recollection of my mission and its grave import
+recalled me to myself as the cab drew up before
+the Hotel Metropole.</p>
+<p>My bag was taken possession of at once by one
+of the hall-porters and I engaged a room. Then I
+made inquiries about Mr. Marx.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_230">[230]</div>
+<p>The clerk turned over two or three pages of the
+ledger and shook his head. There was no one of
+that name stopping in the hotel, he informed
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you tell me whether anyone of that name
+has been staying here during the last week?&rdquo; I
+asked.</p>
+<p>He made a further search and shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have not had the name of Marx upon our
+books at all, sir, during my recollection,&rdquo; he declared.
+&ldquo;Quite an uncommon name, too; I should certainly
+have remembered it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There have been letters addressed to him here
+by that name,&rdquo; I said; &ldquo;can you tell me what has
+become of them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would not be in my department, sir; you
+will ascertain by inquiring at the head-porter&rsquo;s
+bureau round the corner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I thanked him and made my way thither across
+the reception hall. The answer to my question was
+given at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are letters for a Mr. Marx nearly every
+morning, sir, and telegrams,&rdquo; said the official; &ldquo;but
+I don&rsquo;t think that Mr. Marx himself is stopping at
+the hotel; another gentleman always applies for
+them and sends them on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And is the other gentleman staying here?&rdquo; I
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir; No. 110.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has he any authority to receive them from
+Mr. Marx?&rdquo; I inquired.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I believe so. He showed us a note from Mr.
+Marx, asking him to receive and forward them, and
+he has to sign, too, for every one he receives. It is
+a rule with us that anyone receiving letters not
+addressed to himself should do so, whether he has
+authority or not.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_231">[231]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you tell me his name?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;I am
+sorry to give you so much trouble, but I particularly
+wish to ascertain Mr. Marx&rsquo;s whereabouts, and
+this gentleman knows it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, sir. John, what is No. 110&rsquo;s name?&rdquo;
+he asked an assistant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Count de Cartienne,&rdquo; was the prompt reply.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_232">[232]</div>
+<h2 id="c41">CHAPTER XLI.
+<br /><span class="small">THE COUNT DE CARTIENNE.</span></h2>
+<p>My surprise at this last piece of information could
+not pass unnoticed. Both the hall-porter and his
+assistant were evidently well-trained servants, but
+they looked curiously at me and then exchanged
+rapid glances with one another. I recovered myself,
+however, in an instant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This Count de Cartienne,&rdquo; I asked, &ldquo;is he
+young? I think I know him. Rather dark and
+thin and short? Is that he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir. Count de Cartienne is a tall, aristocratic-looking
+gentleman, middle-aged. You are
+certain to see him about the hotel. He is in and
+out a great deal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I thanked him and moved away, for the people
+were beginning to flock in, inquiring for their keys.
+As it was nearly dinner-time, I followed their example
+and went to my room to change my travelling
+clothes for more conventional attire.</p>
+<p>The lift was almost full when I entered it; but
+as we were on the point of starting, a lady, followed
+by an elderly gentleman, stepped in. I rose at once,
+being nearest the gate, to offer my seat, but the
+words which I had intended to speak died away
+upon my lips.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_233">[233]</div>
+<p>Something in the graceful figure, the soft, sweet
+eyes, and the delicately-cut features, seemed to
+remind me of my mother. It was a faint resemblance,
+perhaps&mdash;scarcely more than a suggestion&mdash;but
+it was still enough to make my heart beat fast,
+and to arrest for a moment my recollection of where
+I was. Then suddenly I remembered that I was
+behaving, to say the least of it, strangely, and I
+turned abruptly away.</p>
+<p>At the third floor I stepped out and walked
+across the corridor to my room without glancing
+once behind. But it was some time before I unpacked
+my portmanteau, or even thought of dressing.
+Then I remembered that if they were dining at the
+hotel I should see them again, and, turning out my
+clothes at once, I dressed with feverish haste. For
+the moment I had forgotten all about Count de
+Cartienne, forgotten even the very purpose of my
+visit to London. Only one face, linked with a
+memory, dwelt in my mind and usurped all my
+thoughts. I felt a strange excitability stealing
+through my frame, and the fingers which sought to
+fasten my tie shook so that they failed in their duty.
+I seemed to have stepped into another state of being.</p>
+<p>When I descended into the dining-room it was
+already almost full, and there were very few empty
+tables. For a minute or two I stood behind the
+entrance screen, looking around. Nowhere could I
+see any sign of the lady whose face had so interested
+me. Either she was dining away from the hotel or
+had not yet put in an appearance. Hoping devoutly
+that the latter was the case, I took possession
+of a small table laid for three facing the door and
+ordered my dinner.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_234">[234]</div>
+<p>I had scarcely finished my soup before an instinctive
+consciousness that I was being watched
+made me look quickly up. Standing just inside the
+room, calmly surveying the assembled guests, and
+myself in particular, was a tall, distinguished-looking
+man, perfectly clean-shaven, rather fair than otherwise,
+with a single eye-glass stuck in his eye, through
+which he was coolly examining me. He carried an
+Inverness cape and an opera-hat, and his evening
+clothes, which fitted him perfectly, were in the best
+possible taste, even down to the plain gold stud in
+his shirt front. His age might have been anything
+from thirty to fifty, for his carriage was perfectly
+upright, and his hair only slightly streaked with
+grey. Altogether his appearance was that of a
+well-turned-out, well-bred man, and as I glanced
+away I felt a little mild curiosity to know who he
+was.</p>
+<p>He came a few steps farther into the room, and
+after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation passed by a larger
+table laid for six and took the vacant seat at mine.
+He wished me good-evening in a clear, pleasant
+voice, with a slight foreign accent, resigned his coat
+and hat to a more than ordinarily attentive waiter,
+and drawing a card from his pocket began deliberately
+to write out his dishes from the menu.
+Then he shut up his pencil, and leaning back in
+his chair once more glanced round at the roomful
+of people. Having apparently satisfied his curiosity,
+he yawned, and turning towards me, began to talk.</p>
+<p>Soon I began to feel myself quite at home with
+him, and to enjoy my dinner with a greatly-added
+zest. Indeed, in listening to some of his quaint
+recitals of adventures at foreign hotels, I almost
+forgot to watch for the advent of the lady and
+gentleman for whom I had been looking out so
+eagerly only a few minutes before.</p>
+<p>As it happened, however, I saw them enter, and
+my attention immediately wandered from the story
+which my companion was telling.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_235">[235]</div>
+<p>Something in the fragility of her appearance, and
+the weight with which she leaned upon her husband&rsquo;s
+arm, seemed to mark her as an invalid, and this
+expression was in a measure heightened by her black
+lace dress, which, combined with the too perfect complexion
+and slight figure, gave to her face an almost
+ethereal expression. As I looked into the deep blue
+eyes I seemed again to be able to trace that vague
+likeness to my mother, and I felt my heart beat fast
+as the impression grew upon me. It was only when
+my new friend stopped abruptly in his anecdote
+and looked at me questioningly, that I could withdraw
+my eyes from her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are they friends of yours who have just come
+in?&rdquo; he asked, without turning round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I never saw them before this afternoon in
+my life. I wonder if you could tell me who they
+are?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He moved his chair a little, so as to be able to
+do so without rudeness, and looked round. I
+happened to be watching him, and I saw at once
+that he recognised them.</p>
+<p>Strange to say, the recognition seemed to afford
+him anything but pleasure; a change passed over
+his face like a flash of lightning, and although I only
+just caught it, it made me feel for the moment decidedly
+uncomfortable. While it lasted the face
+had not been a pleasant one to look upon. But it
+was not that alone which troubled me. During the
+moment that his expression had been transformed,
+it had given me an odd, disagreeable sense of
+familiarity.</p>
+<p>He was himself again almost immediately&mdash;so
+soon that I could scarcely credit the change&mdash;and
+more than once afterwards I felt inclined to put
+that evil look and lowering brow down to a trick
+of my imagination. Even when I had decided to
+do so, however, I caught myself wondering more
+than once of whom they had reminded me.</p>
+<p>He moved his chair again and went on with his
+dinner in silence.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_236">[236]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You recognised them?&rdquo; I ventured to remark,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you mind telling me who they are,
+then?&rdquo; I persisted. &ldquo;I feel interested in them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked up curiously and kept his eyes fixed
+on me while he answered my question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The man is Lord Langerdale, an Irish peer, and
+the lady with him is his wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you. The lady&rsquo;s face reminded me of
+someone I knew once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He removed his eyes and his tone grew lighter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! Rather an uncommon type of face,
+too. She&rsquo;s a lovely woman still, though she looks
+delicate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I assented silently. Somehow I did not care to
+discuss her with this stranger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you noticed,&rdquo; he went on, after a short
+pause, &ldquo;that it was rather a shock to me to see them
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did notice that,&rdquo; I admitted.</p>
+<p>He sighed and looked grave for a moment. Then
+he poured himself out a glass of champagne and
+drank it deliberately off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was purely a matter of association,&rdquo; he said,
+in a low tone. &ldquo;A somewhat painful incident in
+my life was connected with that family, although
+with no present member of it. Pass the bottle,
+and let us change the subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We talked of other things, and for a time all my
+former interest in his piquant anecdotes and trenchant
+remarks was renewed. But while he was
+gravely considering with a waiter the relative merits
+of two brands of claret, I found my eyes wandering
+to the table at our right, in search of the woman
+whose face had so attracted me. This time my eyes
+met hers.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_237">[237]</div>
+<p>Then a strange thing happened. Instead of
+looking away at once, she kept her eyes steadily
+fixed upon me and suddenly gave a distinct start.
+I saw the colour rush into her face and leave it
+again almost as swiftly; her thin lips were slightly
+parted, and her whole expression was one of great
+agitation. I tried to look away, but I could not;
+I felt somehow forced to return her steady gaze.
+But when she turned to her husband and touched
+him on the arm, evidently to direct his attention
+to me, the spell was broken, and I moved my chair
+slightly, making some casual remark to my companion
+which was sufficient to set the ball of conversation
+rolling again. But one stolen glance a
+few moments later showed me that both husband
+and wife were regarding me attentively, and several
+times afterwards, when I looked over towards their
+table, I met Lady Langerdale&rsquo;s eyes, full of a sad,
+wistful, and withal puzzled expression which I could
+not read.</p>
+<p>As dinner drew towards a close it occurred
+to me that my <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i> had studiously avoided
+turning once towards our neighbours. If he desired
+to escape recognition, however, he was unsuccessful,
+for just as we were beginning to think of quitting
+our places, Lord Langerdale left his seat to speak
+to some acquaintances at the other end of the room,
+and on his way back he looked straight into my
+companion&rsquo;s face. He started slightly, hesitated,
+and then came slowly up to our table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Eug&egrave;ne!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;By all that&rsquo;s wonderful,
+is it really you? Why, we heard that you
+had become an Oriental, and forsworn the ways
+and haunts of civilisation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke lightly, but it was easy to see that the
+meeting was a very embarrassing one for both of
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have not been in England long,&rdquo; was the quiet
+reply. &ldquo;Lady Langerdale, I am glad to see, is
+well.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_238">[238]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;She is fairly well. How strange that we should
+meet here! Why, it must be twenty years since I
+have seen you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have spent but little time in England.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose not,&rdquo; Lord Langerdale answered
+slowly. &ldquo;We have heard of you occasionally.
+Will you come and speak to my wife?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; was the calm reply. &ldquo;It could
+only be very painful for both of us. If Lady Langerdale
+desires it&mdash;not unless&mdash;I will call upon you
+at your rooms. But, frankly, I would rather not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale appeared by no means offended,
+rather a little relieved, and answered sadly:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is for you to choose. If you can tell her that
+the past has lost some of its bitterness for you, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He hesitated and seemed at a loss how to express
+himself. My <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i> smiled&mdash;a smile of peculiar
+bitterness it was&mdash;and interrupted cynically:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And that I am a reformed character, I suppose
+you would say, and have become a respectable
+member of society! No, no, Lord Langerdale, I
+am no hypocrite, and I shall never tell her that.
+A wanderer upon the face of the earth I have been
+during the best years of my life, and a wanderer I
+shall always be&mdash;adventurer, some people have said.
+Well, well, let it be so; what matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry to hear you talk so, Eug&egrave;ne; but
+of one thing you may always be sure&mdash;Elsie and I
+will never be your judges. If you feel that it will
+reopen old wounds, stop away; but if not, why,
+come and see us. You have a young friend with
+you,&rdquo; he added, turning slightly towards me and
+speaking a little more earnestly than the occasion
+seemed to require.</p>
+<p>The man whom he called Eug&egrave;ne shook his head.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_239">[239]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not so fortunate,&rdquo; he said stiffly. &ldquo;I can
+claim no more than what on the Continent we call
+a &lsquo;table acquaintance&rsquo; with this young gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It might have been my fancy, but it seemed to
+me that Lord Langerdale looked distinctly disappointed.
+He bowed courteously to me, however,
+shook hands with his friend and rejoined his wife.
+My new acquaintance resumed his former position,
+and, with it, his old nonchalant manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your pardon,&rdquo; he said lightly, &ldquo;for this long
+digression. And now tell me, <i>mon ami</i>, shall we
+spend the evening together? You are a stranger
+in London, you say; I am not,&rdquo; he added drily.
+&ldquo;Come, shall I be your cicerone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I really had nothing else to do, so I assented at
+once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! Let us finish the bottle to a pleasant
+evening. But, ah! I forgot. We must be introduced.
+The English custom demands it, even
+though we introduce ourselves. Your name is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Morton,&rdquo; I answered&mdash;&ldquo;Philip Morton. I
+haven&rsquo;t a card.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! Then, Mr. Philip Morton, permit me
+the honour of introducing to you&mdash;myself. I am
+called de Cartienne&mdash;the Count Eug&egrave;ne de Cartienne&mdash;but
+I do not use the title in this country.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_240">[240]</div>
+<h2 id="c42">CHAPTER XLII.
+<br /><span class="small">NEWS OF MR. MARX.</span></h2>
+<p>For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for
+the simple reason that I was far too astonished to
+make any remark. My new acquaintance sat looking
+at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly
+toying with his eyeglass; yet, notwithstanding his
+apparent nonchalance, I felt somehow aware that
+he was watching me keenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My name appears to be a surprise to you,&rdquo; he
+remarked, keeping his eyes fixed steadily upon my
+face. &ldquo;Have you heard it before, may I ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I assented, &ldquo;one of the fellows down at
+Borden Tower&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What, you know Leonard?&rdquo; he interrupted.
+&ldquo;Egad! how strange! Then you are one of Dr.
+Randall&rsquo;s pupils, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I have only been there a very short time,
+though. And Leonard is&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I looked at him intently. Now that the fact
+itself had been suggested to me, I could certainly
+trace come faint likeness. But what puzzled me
+most was that he seemed also to remind me, although
+more vaguely, of someone else, whom I
+could not call to mind at all. Neither did he seem
+particularly anxious for me to assist him, for, as
+though somewhat annoyed at my close scrutiny, he
+rose abruptly to his feet.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_241">[241]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, what do you say to cigarettes and coffee?
+We are outstaying everybody here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I followed him downstairs into the smoke-room.
+We seated ourselves upon a luxurious divan, and
+the Count immediately began to talk about his son.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so you know Leonard? How strange!
+Do you see much of one another?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Naturally, considering that there are only three
+of us at Dr. Randall&rsquo;s,&rdquo; I reminded him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, just so! And your other fellow pupil is
+young Lord Silchester, is he not? Rather an
+awkward number, three. Do you all chum together
+pretty well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>What was I to say? I could not tell him that
+my relations with his son were decidedly inimical;
+so, after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation, I answered a little
+evasively:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid we&rsquo;re not a very sociable trio. You
+see, Cis and I are very keen on out-of-door amusements,
+and your son rather prefers reading.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I quite understand. You and Lord Silchester
+are thoroughly English, and essentially so
+in your tastes and love of sport. Leonard, now, is
+more than half a foreigner. His mother was an
+Austrian lady, and I myself am of French extraction.
+By the by, Mr. Morton, may I ask you a
+question&mdash;in confidence?&rdquo; he added slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is about Leonard. I don&rsquo;t think that you
+need have any scruples about telling me, for I am
+his father, you know, and have a certain right to
+know everything about him.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_242">[242]</div>
+<p>He looked at me gravely, as though for confirmation
+of his words, and I silently expressed my
+assent. Leonard de Cartienne was nothing to me;
+and if his father was going to ask me the question
+which I hoped he was, he should have a straightforward
+answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I sent my son to Dr. Randall&rsquo;s,&rdquo; he began,
+sinking his voice to a confidential whisper, &ldquo;not
+because he was backward in his studies&mdash;for such
+is not, I believe, the case&mdash;but because he has unfortunately
+inherited a very deplorable taste. I found
+it out only by accident, and it was a very great
+shock to me. Leonard is fond&mdash;too fond&mdash;of playing
+cards for money. I thought that at Borden
+Tower he would have no opportunity for indulging
+this lamentable weakness; but from what I have
+recently heard about Dr. Randall, it has occurred to
+me that he is perhaps a little too much of the student
+and too little of the schoolmaster. You understand
+me? I mean that he is perhaps so closely wrapped
+up in his private work, that after the hours which
+he gives to his pupils for instruction they may
+secure almost as much liberty as though they were
+at college.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just it,&rdquo; I answered: &ldquo;and, M. de Cartienne,
+now that you have spoken to me of it, I
+will tell you something. Your son does play a good
+deal with Lord Silchester. I know that this is so,
+for I have played myself occasionally.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Lord Silchester wins, I presume?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Something in the Count&rsquo;s tone as he asked the
+question, and something in his face as I glanced
+up, did not please me. Both seemed to tell the
+same tale, both somehow seemed to imply that his
+question to me was altogether sarcastic, and that
+he knew the contrary to be the case.</p>
+<p>It was the first gleam of mistrust which I had
+felt towards my new acquaintance, and it did not
+last, for the expression of deep concern and annoyance
+with which he heard my answer seemed too
+natural to be assumed.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_243">[243]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;On the contrary, your son always wins,&rdquo; I told
+him drily.</p>
+<p>His finely-pencilled dark eyebrows almost met in
+a heavy frown, and he threw his cigarette away
+impatiently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for
+answering my question,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but I needn&rsquo;t
+tell you that I&rsquo;m very sorry to hear what you say.
+Something must be done with Mr. Leonard at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He lit another cigarette and threw himself back
+in a corner of the divan. Then I made up my
+mind to speak to him on the subject which was
+uppermost in my mind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know a Mr. Marx, I believe? I was inquiring
+for him at the hotel office this afternoon,
+and they told me that you were forwarding his
+letters. Could you give me his address?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. de Cartienne removed his cigarette from his
+teeth, and looked dubious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know Marx; know him well,&rdquo; he admitted;
+&ldquo;but your request puts me in rather an
+awkward position. You see, this is how the matter
+lies,&rdquo; he added, leaning forward confidentially.
+&ldquo;Marx and I are old friends, and he&rsquo;s been of great
+service to me more than once, and never asked for
+any return. Well, I met him&mdash;I won&rsquo;t say when,
+but it wasn&rsquo;t long ago&mdash;in Pall Mall, and he hailed
+me as the very man he was most anxious to meet.
+We lunched together, and then he told me what he
+wanted. He was in London for a short while, he
+said, and wished to remain perfectly incognito.
+There would be letters for him, he said, at the
+Metropole. Would I fetch them, and forward them
+to him at an address which he would give me, on
+condition that I gave him my word of honour to
+keep it secret? I asked, naturally, what reason
+he had for going into hiding; for virtually that is
+what it seemed to me to be; but he would give me
+no definite answer. Would I do him this favour or
+not? he asked. And, remembering the many services
+which he had rendered me, I found it quite
+impossible to refuse. That is my position. I&rsquo;m
+really extremely sorry not to be able to help you,
+but you see for yourself that I cannot.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_244">[244]</div>
+<p>His tone was perfectly serious and his manner
+earnest. I had not the faintest shadow of doubt
+as to his sincerity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t help me at all then?&rdquo; I said, no
+doubt with some of the disappointment which I felt
+in my tone.</p>
+<p>He looked doubtful.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t quite know about that,&rdquo; he said
+slowly, as though weighing something over in his
+mind. &ldquo;Look here, Mr. Morton,&rdquo; he added, frankly
+enough, &ldquo;what do you want with the man? Is it
+anything unpleasant?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I do not wish any
+harm to Mr. Marx unless he deserves it. I want to
+ask him a few questions, that&rsquo;s all. Unless the
+man&rsquo;s a perfect scoundrel he will be able to answer
+them satisfactorily, and my having discovered his
+whereabouts will not harm him. If, on the other
+hand, he cannot answer those questions, why, then,
+you may take my word for it, M. de Cartienne, that
+he&rsquo;s an unmitigated blackguard, perfectly unworthy
+of your friendship, and undeserving of the slightest
+consideration from you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. de Cartienne nodded and leaned forward,
+with his arm across the divan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You put the matter very plainly,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;and what you say is fair enough. I&rsquo;ll tell you
+how far I am prepared to help you. I won&rsquo;t tell
+you Mr. Marx&rsquo;s address, because I have pledged
+my word not to divulge it; but, if you like, I&rsquo;ll
+take you where there will be a very fair chance of
+your seeing him.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_245">[245]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;He is in London, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Count shrugged his shoulders and smiled
+slightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me to keep my word in the letter, if
+not in the spirit,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;I am going to
+spend my evening in this way; I am going, first of
+all, to a theatre for an hour or so; then I am going
+to call at a couple of clubs, and afterwards I am
+going to a club of a somewhat different sort. If
+you like to be my companion for the evening I shall
+be charmed; and if it should happen that we run
+up against any friend of yours&mdash;well, the world is
+not so very large, after all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks. I&rsquo;ll come with you with pleasure!&rdquo; I
+answered without hesitation.</p>
+<p>He stood up underneath the soft glare of the
+electric light, and as I turned towards him something
+in his face puzzled me. It was gone directly
+my eyes met his&mdash;gone, but not before it had left
+a curious impression. It seemed almost as though
+a triumphant light had flashed for an instant in his
+bright, steel-coloured eyes.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_246">[246]</div>
+<h2 id="c43">CHAPTER XLIII.
+<br /><span class="small">ABOUT TOWN.</span></h2>
+<p>We passed up the heavily-carpeted steps into the
+central hall of the hotel. The Count stopped for
+a moment to inquire for letters at the chief porter&rsquo;s
+bureau, and as we turned away we came face to
+face with Lord Langerdale.</p>
+<p>He hesitated when he saw us together, but only
+for a moment. Then he advanced with a genial
+smile upon his well-cut, handsome face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the very man I wanted to see, de Cartienne,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I suppose you know your young
+friend&rsquo;s name by this time? Will you introduce
+us?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Count looked distinctly annoyed, but he complied
+at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Langerdale,&rdquo; he said coldly, &ldquo;this is Mr.
+Morton. Mr. Morton&mdash;Lord Langerdale.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale held out his hand frankly and
+drew me a little on one side, although not out of
+the Count&rsquo;s hearing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Morton,&rdquo; he said pleasantly, &ldquo;I am going
+to make a somewhat extraordinary request. My
+only excuse for it is a lady&rsquo;s will, and when you
+reach my age you will know that it is a thing by
+no means to be lightly regarded. My wife has been
+very much impressed by what she terms a marvellous
+likeness between you and&mdash;and a very near
+relative of hers whom she had lost sight of for a long
+while. She is most anxious to make your acquaintance.
+May I have the honour of presenting you to
+her?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_247">[247]</div>
+<p>For a moment my head swam. The likeness of
+Lady Langerdale to my mother, and then this
+strange fancy on her part! What if they should
+be something more than coincidences? The very
+thought was bewildering. But how could it be?
+No; the thing was impossible. Still, the request
+was couched in such terms that there could be but
+one answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be extremely pleased!&rdquo; I declared
+readily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then come into the drawing-room for a few
+minutes, will you?&rdquo; Lord Langerdale said. &ldquo;Good-night,
+Eug&egrave;ne! No use asking you to join us, I
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Count de Cartienne turned on his heel with brow
+as black as thunder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night, Lord Langerdale!&rdquo; he said stiffly;
+&ldquo;Good-night, Mr. Morton!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I am coming with you, you know!&rdquo; I
+exclaimed, surprised at his manner. &ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you
+wait for me five minutes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is impossible!&rdquo; he answered shortly; &ldquo;we
+are late already! My carriage must have been
+waiting half an hour. I had no idea of the time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was rather an embarrassing moment for me.
+The Count evidently expected me to keep my engagement
+with him, and would be offended if I did
+not do so. On the other hand, Lord Langerdale
+was waiting to take me to his wife, and, from the
+slight frown with which he was regarding de Cartienne,
+I judged that he did not approve of his
+interference.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_248">[248]</div>
+<p>Inclination prompted me strongly to throw my
+engagement with the Count to the winds and to
+place myself under Lord Langerdale&rsquo;s guidance.
+But, after all, the sole purpose of my journey to
+London was to discover Mr. Marx, and if I neglected
+this opportunity I might lose sight of the only man
+who could help me in my search. Clearly, therefore,
+my duty was to fulfil my prior engagement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If M. de Cartienne cannot wait,&rdquo; I said regretfully,
+&ldquo;I am afraid, Lord Langerdale, that the
+pleasure you offer me must be deferred. Would
+Lady Langerdale allow me to call at your rooms
+to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Evidently he was displeased, for his manner
+changed at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will leave a note for you with the hall porter,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I turned away with the Count, who preserved a
+perfectly unmoved countenance. Before we had
+taken half a dozen steps, however, he was accosted
+by a gentleman entering the hotel, and, turning
+round, he begged me to excuse him for a moment.</p>
+<p>I strolled away by myself, waiting. Suddenly, I
+felt a light touch on my arm, and, looking round,
+I found Lord Langerdale by my side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I just want to ask you a question, Mr. Morton,
+if you&rsquo;ll allow me,&rdquo; he said kindly. &ldquo;Remember
+that I&rsquo;m an old man&mdash;old enough to be your father&mdash;and
+a man of the world, and you are a very young
+one. You won&rsquo;t mind a word of advice?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most certainly not!&rdquo; I assured him heartily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, Count de Cartienne is quite a new
+acquaintance of yours, is he not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never saw him before this evening,&rdquo; I admitted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you&mdash;pardon me, but you look very young,
+and a great deal too fresh and healthy for a town
+man&mdash;you don&rsquo;t know much of London life, do
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_249">[249]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing at all,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;This is my
+first visit to London, and I only arrived this afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale looked very serious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Mr. Morton,&rdquo; he said earnestly, &ldquo;I
+feel sure from your face that I can trust you, and
+that what I am going to say you will consider in
+confidence. I should be the last one to say anything
+against Eug&egrave;ne de Cartienne, for he received
+a terrible injury from one of my family, or, rather,
+my wife&rsquo;s family, and I fear that has exercised an
+evil influence over his life. But, all the same, I
+cannot see you, a youngster, perfectly inexperienced,
+starting out to spend your first night in town with
+him without feeling it my duty to tell you that I
+consider him one of the most unfortunate and
+most dangerous companions whom you could have
+chosen. There! I hope you&rsquo;re not offended?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How could I be?&rdquo; I answered gratefully. &ldquo;But
+I am not going out with him from choice, or for
+the sake of amusement. We are together simply
+because, as far as I know, he is the only man who
+can solve a mystery which I have come up to London
+to try to clear up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale started, and his manner became
+almost agitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is most extraordinary!&rdquo; he declared.
+&ldquo;Mr. Morton, you must&mdash;ah, here comes de Cartienne!&rdquo;
+he broke off in a tone of deep annoyance.
+&ldquo;Breakfast with me to-morrow morning at ten&mdash;no,
+nine o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo; he added, in a lower key. &ldquo;I have
+something most important to say to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I nodded assent and the Count joined us.</p>
+<p>There was a faint flush on his pale cheeks and
+his eyes were flashing brightly, as he looked at us
+standing close together. It might have been the
+result of his recent conversation, of course; but,
+coupled with his frowning brow and quick, suspicious
+glance, it looked a great deal more like a
+sudden fit of anger at seeing us engaged in what
+appeared like a confidential talk. But there was
+no trace of it in his tone when he addressed us.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_250">[250]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Really, you two might be conspirators,&rdquo; he said
+lightly. &ldquo;Well, Mr. Morton, have you changed
+your mind, or am I to have the honour of your
+company this evening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am ready to start when you are,&rdquo; I answered.
+&ldquo;Good-night once more, Lord Langerdale.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shook my hand warmly, nodded to the Count,
+who returned the salute with a stiff bow, and left
+us. We descended into the street, and a very
+small, neat brougham, drawn by a pair of dark,
+handsome bays, drew up at the entrance. The
+coachman&rsquo;s livery was perfectly plain, save that he
+wore a cockade in his hat, and there was neither
+coat-of-arms nor crest upon the panel of the door.
+We stepped inside, and the Count held a speaking-tube
+for a moment to his mouth while he consulted
+his watch. There was no footman.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frivolity Theatre,&rdquo; he directed. And we drove
+off at a smart pace into the Strand.</p>
+<p>We reached our destination in a few moments and
+had no difficulty in obtaining seats. It was all new
+to me, and I felt a little bewildered as I endeavoured
+to follow the performance. I soon had enough of
+that. The piece was a screaming farce, vulgar and
+stupid.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think Mr. Marx is here,&rdquo; I whispered to
+de Cartienne.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think he is,&rdquo; was the rejoinder. &ldquo;I had
+a good look round for him when we came in. Have
+you had enough of this performance? If so,
+we&rsquo;ll go. I think I know where we shall find
+Marx.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then let us go at once,&rdquo; I urged.</p>
+<p>We passed out of the theatre into the street,
+The brougham was there waiting for us.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_251">[251]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jump in!&rdquo; said the Count, opening the door.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to tell the fellow where to drive to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I obeyed him, and waited for nearly a minute
+before he had given his directions and joined me.
+Then he took his seat by my side and we drove
+quickly off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you not use the speaking-tube?&rdquo; I
+asked idly.</p>
+<p>He answered without looking at me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is rather an out-of-the-way place,&rdquo; he said
+slowly, &ldquo;and I did not wish the man to make a
+mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_252">[252]</div>
+<h2 id="c44">CHAPTER XLIV.
+<br /><span class="small">A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.</span></h2>
+<p>During the earlier part of the evening, since we
+had left the hotel, my companion had shown no
+disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silence
+amounted almost to moroseness, and he had not
+always answered my questions. But immediately
+we had started on this new expedition his manner
+underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay
+himself out with feverish eagerness to entertain me
+and to absorb my attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;re not tired,&rdquo; he said suddenly, at
+the end of one of his anecdotes. &ldquo;We have rather
+a long drive before us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; I assured him. &ldquo;What is the
+place we are going to?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A sort of private club. In confidence, I&rsquo;ll tell
+you why it is so far out of the way. Some of the
+members are fond of playing a little high, and have
+started a roulette board. That sort of thing is best
+kept quiet, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The place is a gambling-club, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Something of that sort,&rdquo; he acknowledged.
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t dream of taking you there if it wasn&rsquo;t
+for the sake of meeting Marx. You understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly, thanks. Save for that reason I
+shouldn&rsquo;t think of going.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_253">[253]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What an infernal night!&rdquo; he exclaimed, looking
+out of the carriage for a moment; &ldquo;almost enough
+to give one the miserables. Come, we&rsquo;ll shut it
+out.&rdquo; He struck a match and, turning round, lit
+a lamp which was fixed at the back of the carriage.
+Then he quietly pulled down the blinds and began
+to tell me a story, of which I heard not a word.
+My thoughts were engrossed by another matter.
+M. de Cartienne&rsquo;s action, coupled with the strangeness
+of his manner, could bear but one interpretation.</p>
+<p>He had some reason for keeping me as much as
+possible in the dark as to the route we were taking.</p>
+<p>For a few moments I felt, to put it mildly,
+uneasy. Then several possible explanations of such
+conduct occurred to me, and my apprehensions grew
+weaker. What more natural, after all, than that
+M. de Cartienne should desire to keep secret from
+me the exact whereabouts of an establishment
+which, by his own admission, was maintained
+contrary to the law? The more I considered it,
+the more reasonable such an explanation appeared
+to me. I began to wonder, even, that he had
+not asked me for some pledge of secrecy. But
+there was time enough for that.</p>
+<p>By degrees the rattling of vehicles around us
+grew less and less, until at last all traffic seemed
+to have died away. Once, during a pause in the
+conversation, I raised the blind a little way and
+looked out. We had left even the region of suburban
+semi-detached villas; and, blurred though
+the prospect was by the mud which the fast-rolling
+wheels drew incessantly into the air and on to the
+window-panes, I could just distinguish the dim
+outline of hedges and fields beyond.</p>
+<p>I looked at the carriage-clock and found that we
+had been already an hour and a quarter on our
+journey. From the furious pace at which we were
+travelling we must have come nearly fifteen miles.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_254">[254]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;This place is a long way out,&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>The Count laughed and lit a cigarette. &ldquo;Oh,
+there&rsquo;s a good reason for that. But the men don&rsquo;t
+drive here from town&mdash;at least, not in the winter.
+There&rsquo;s a railway-station only a mile away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re almost there now, then, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He let the blind up with a spring and looked out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nearer than I imagined,&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;We
+shall be there in three minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was just drawing in his head when he gave
+a visible start and leaned right out of the window,
+with his face upturned to the beating rain, listening
+intently.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he withdrew it, and, snatching at the
+check-string, pulled it violently. I looked at him
+in amazement. His face was ghastly pale, but
+his thin lips were set firmly together and his
+features rigid with determination. It was the face
+of a brave, desperate man preparing to meet some
+terrible danger.</p>
+<p>The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped
+down into the road. He did not speak to me,
+so, after a second&rsquo;s hesitation, I followed him and
+stood by his side. There was no mistaking the
+sound which had alarmed him. Behind, at no
+very great distance, was the sound of galloping
+horses and the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels.</p>
+<p>Round the corner it came, a small brougham
+drawn by a pair of great thoroughbred horses,
+whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards&rsquo; distance,
+seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de
+Cartienne snatched one of the carriage-lamps from
+the bracket and, stepping into the middle of the
+road, waved it backwards and forwards over his
+head. His action had the desired effect.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_255">[255]</div>
+<p>Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses,
+bathed in foam and mud, came to a standstill
+before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long fur coat
+thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped
+out into the road. The Count was by his side in
+a moment.</p>
+<p>I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot,
+but with my eyes fixed upon the two men.</p>
+<p>They could scarcely have spoken a hundred
+words before their colloquy was at an end. The
+new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de
+Cartienne followed his example. I looked at him
+as he stepped in, anxious to see what effect the
+other&rsquo;s news had had upon him. Apparently it
+was not so bad as he had feared, for, although he
+still looked anxious and pale, his face had lost its
+ghastly hue.</p>
+<p>We drove on in the same direction as before.
+When we had started he turned to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know what a police raid is?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can&rsquo;t stop to explain,&rdquo; he went on
+rapidly. &ldquo;Sir Fred&mdash;my friend there, has just
+brought down word of some strange rumours about
+the clubs to-night. It seems the police have got
+to hear of this place and are going to pay it an
+uninvited visit. They won&rsquo;t be here for an hour,
+though, so if you like just to come inside and see
+whether Marx is there or not, you will have time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown
+avenue, leading up to a red-brick house,
+unilluminated by a single light.</p>
+<p>We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting
+approach and pulling up at the grim,
+closed door. The carriage had scarcely come to a
+standstill before the Count was on the doorstep,
+fitting a curiously-shaped key into the lock. It
+yielded at once and we both stepped inside, followed
+by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriage
+had pulled up close behind ours.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_256">[256]</div>
+<p>We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed
+to be stirring in the house, although the mat under
+our feet, in some way connected with an electric
+alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival.
+Then we heard swift feet approaching and a tall,
+hard-featured woman in a plain black gown, and holding
+a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.</p>
+<p>M. de Cartienne took her by the arm and led
+her on one side. The other man, who was making
+vain attempts to appear at his ease and composed,
+sank into a chair, palpably trembling. Of the
+real nature of the danger which was imminent I
+could form only the slightest idea; but that it
+was something very much to be feared I could
+easily gather from his agitation and de Cartienne&rsquo;s
+manner.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the latter turned round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ackland,&rdquo; he said quickly to the man in the
+chair, eyeing him keenly and with a shade of contempt
+in his tone, &ldquo;you are not fit for any of the
+serious work, I can see. Listen! Light up the
+club-room and the smoke-room, stir up the fires,
+bring out the cards and wine-glasses, empty some
+tobacco-ash about, make the place look habitable
+for us when we come. Ferdinand is on the watch
+outside and will give you notice of our visitors.
+Ring all three alarm-bells at once if he gives the
+signal. Morton, I want you to wait for me. I&rsquo;ll
+send you away all right before anything happens;
+but don&rsquo;t go unless you see me again&mdash;unless
+you&rsquo;re frightened.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned on his heel and, without waiting for
+any answer from either of us, hurried away down
+the passage. The man whom he had called Ackland
+rose from his seat and, striking a match, lighted
+the gas-brackets all around the hall and the burners
+of a candelabra which hung from the roof.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_257">[257]</div>
+<p>My companion then threw open a door and
+I followed him into a luxuriously-appointed room,
+furnished with a suite of lounges and easy-chairs
+corresponding with those in the hall.</p>
+<p>Whilst I was looking round, he hastily began
+moving the chairs about, as though they had
+been recently used, poking the fire and generally
+making the place look inhabited. Having
+done this, he crossed the hall and entered the opposite
+room. It was a little smaller, but similarly
+appointed and decorated, save that a long table,
+covered with a white cloth and laid for dinner,
+stood in the centre, and a smaller one, with a green
+baize covering at the further end. My companion
+threw a pack of cards and some counters upon the
+latter and drew it closer up to the fire. Then,
+having placed some chairs around it, he went back
+into the hall again and I followed.</p>
+<p>All the while we had been moving about, strange
+noises had been going on under our feet. Now
+and then the sound of hurrying footsteps and of
+hoarse voices reached us, and, more often still,
+the steady rumbling of heavy articles being moved
+about. I looked at my companion for an explanation,
+but he did not seem inclined to offer
+one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s going on underneath?&rdquo; I asked at
+last.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bowls!&rdquo; he answered curtly, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk,
+please, I want to listen!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_258">[258]</div>
+<h2 id="c45">CHAPTER XLV.
+<br /><span class="small">A MYSTERIOUS COMMISSION.</span></h2>
+<p>The underground noises continued for about a
+quarter of an hour, during which time my companion
+busied himself by removing from the club-room
+various articles&mdash;the false top of a table
+marked out in a curious fashion, several mahogany
+boxes, and other contrivances strange to me, but
+presumably gambling appliances, with all of which
+he disappeared through the door by which de
+Cartienne had made his exit, returning again
+directly.</p>
+<p>At last everything was quiet, ominously quiet;
+then the door from the hall was thrown suddenly
+open, and the Count entered, followed by four or
+five other men. They were all apparently gentlemen,
+and in evening clothes, but terribly soiled
+and disordered. Some were splashed with mud
+from head to foot, some had their shirt-fronts
+blackened and crumpled, and the hands of all of
+them were black with grease and dirt. All looked
+more or less pale and nervous&mdash;in fact, M. de Cartienne
+was the only one who thoroughly retained
+his composure.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_259">[259]</div>
+<p>There was a lavatory on the other side of the
+staircase, towards which the whole of the little
+party trooped, M. de Cartienne being the last.
+As he disappeared he looked round and beckoned
+me to follow him. I did so and stood by his side,
+while he plunged his head into some cold water,
+and then began to wash his hands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry this should have happened to-night,
+Morton,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Marx was here, but has
+bolted in a fright.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t I catch him up?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>de Cartienne shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; he&rsquo;s in the train by this time. He comes
+here every night, though. I&rsquo;ll bring you down
+to-morrow, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you coming back now?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I must see this thing through. You
+can go and at once, though. My carriage will
+take you back. I shall return by train. By the
+by, there&rsquo;s a small favour I want to ask you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have kept a few private papers here, which
+I should not care to have examined should the
+search really take place. I want you to take them
+back to the hotel for me. The box is a little too
+heavy for me to carry, so I have told them to put
+it in the carriage as a footstool for you. You
+won&rsquo;t mind that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; I replied. &ldquo;When shall I
+see you again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the hotel some time to-morrow. Come
+along now,&rdquo; he added, putting on his coat.</p>
+<p>He strolled with me to the front door and, throwing
+it open, listened intently.</p>
+<p>There was no sound save the moaning of the
+wind in the bare trees which stood by the side of
+the house and the patter of the fast-falling rain.
+I stepped into the carriage and the Count came
+to the window to me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget,&rdquo; he said, pointing to a long,
+oblong box secured by a strong lock. &ldquo;Draw
+the rug a little more over your knees&mdash;so.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_260">[260]</div>
+<p>I obeyed him and let it hang down to hide the
+box, which I began to see was his object.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if you should meet anyone and they
+should be impertinent enough to ask you where
+you are going, don&rsquo;t tell them. Give them your
+card and tell them to go to the devil. If they
+are very pressing indeed, you must tell a lie. Say
+that you&rsquo;ve been to dine with Sir Sedgwick Bromley
+at Hatherly Hall. Don&rsquo;t forget the name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. Are you coming back to the Metropole
+to-night?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. But if you don&rsquo;t mind I should
+be glad if you would have the box taken up into
+your room and keep it for me. I shouldn&rsquo;t like
+anything to happen to it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I promised, but without much alacrity. We
+shook hands and the carriage drove off.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_261">[261]</div>
+<h2 id="c46">CHAPTER XLVI.
+<br /><span class="small">A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.</span></h2>
+<p>We could scarcely have accomplished more than
+a mile of our homeward journey when, with a
+sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, the
+carriage was brought to a standstill.</p>
+<p>On the opposite side of the road were two carriages,
+or, rather, flys, from one of which a tall,
+slim man was in the act of descending. Several
+other men on horseback were just riding up from
+behind. They were all in plain clothes, but something
+about their <i>physique</i> and general appearance
+had an unmistakable suggestion of police.</p>
+<p>The man who had been descending from the
+nearer of the two carriages crossed the road and
+approached me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sorry to detain you, sir,&rdquo; he said, saluting in
+military fashion, &ldquo;but I must ask you your name
+and address and where you have been this evening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether it has occurred to you
+that your behaviour is rather strange,&rdquo; I remarked,
+looking at him steadily, &ldquo;not to say impertinent!
+What the mischief do you mean by
+stopping my carriage in this way on the high road
+and asking me questions like that? Who are
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He hesitated, and then answered with a little
+more respect in his manner.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_262">[262]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I am deputy chief sergeant at Scotland Yard,
+sir, and these are my men. We have a little business
+at a house not far from here, and our orders
+are to detain and procure the names and addresses
+of all persons whom we might encounter of whom
+we had reasonable suspicion that they had recently
+left the house in question. You will not object
+to give me your name, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not. My name is Philip Morton,
+and my general address is Ravenor Castle, Leicestershire.
+At present I am staying at the Metropole
+Hotel. Are you satisfied?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly, sir,&rdquo; he answered, after one more
+rapid glance around the carriage. &ldquo;I see that
+you are not concerned in this affair. I wish you
+good-night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We drove rapidly off, and I began to feel not a
+little dissatisfied with myself. The Count had no
+right to have mixed me up in this affair.</p>
+<p>In my ill-temper I gave the box, which lay concealed
+under my feet, a savage kick, sufficient to
+have sent it flying to the other end of the carriage.
+But there was a little surprise in store for me.
+To my amazement the box remained perfectly
+immovable, just as though it had been screwed
+into the bottom of the carriage.</p>
+<p>Forgetting the Count&rsquo;s earnest injunctions, I
+threw aside the rug and, stooping down, tried to
+lift it by the handles. In those days I was proud
+of my muscles, and not altogether without reason,
+but it needed all my strength to lift that small
+box from the ground and hold it for a moment
+in my arms. What could it contain? Papers,
+cards, gambling appliances? Surely it could be
+none of these! The very idea was ridiculous!
+The Count de Cartienne had deceived me. I had
+been made the catspaw of those pale, anxious men
+who had watched me start so eagerly and scanned
+me over with many furtive glances. What it was
+of which I was in charge, I could not tell; but in
+that box lay their secret, and my first indignant
+impulse was to open the carriage door and kick it
+out into the road.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_263">[263]</div>
+<p>But are not second thoughts always better?
+Might not this affair shape itself to my advantage?
+There need be no more obligations to
+the Count de Cartienne. He was possessed of information
+which was valuable to me. I was possessed
+of this box, which, without doubt, was invaluable
+to him. I would propose an exchange&mdash;he
+should bring me face to face with Mr. Marx and
+receive his precious box; or, if he refused to do
+so, its destination should be Scotland Yard. A
+very equitable arrangement!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_264">[264]</div>
+<h2 id="c47">CHAPTER XLVII.
+<br /><span class="small">LIGHT AT LAST.</span></h2>
+<p>We were in London again, bowling smoothly along
+wide stretches of silent, gas-lit streets, empty,
+and almost deserted now, for it was past two
+o&rsquo;clock.</p>
+<p>Soon we turned sharply into Northumberland
+Avenue, and pulled up at the hotel. The
+man on the box&mdash;footman I suppose he was,
+although he was not in livery&mdash;opened the carriage-door
+for me and then took possession of the
+small trunk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you will allow me, sir, I will take this up
+to your room,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t trouble,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I can
+manage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He retained possession of it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Count&rsquo;s orders were, sir, that I should
+not allow the hotel servants to meddle with it,
+and that, if possible, I should myself see it deposited
+in your room. You have no objection,
+sir, I hope?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; I answered, turning away.
+&ldquo;In fact, the less I have to do with it the
+better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We entered the hotel and, crossing the hall,
+rang for the lift.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_265">[265]</div>
+<p>The lift came to a standstill at the third floor
+and we stepped out on to the corridor.
+The Count&rsquo;s servant followed me to my room,
+deposited the box on a chair at the foot of the bed
+and wished me good-night.</p>
+<p>I then got into bed and, full of excitement
+though the day had been for me, slept soundly
+till morning.</p>
+<p>It was five minutes past nine when I entered
+the great salon of the hotel and looked round
+for Lord Langerdale.</p>
+<p>My search was not a long one. He was sitting
+alone at a table laid for three in one of the deep
+recesses, with a little pile of letters and a newspaper
+before him. Directly he saw me he pushed
+them away and held out his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-morning!&rdquo; he said pleasantly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+glad to see you&rsquo;re so punctual. You&rsquo;re not in
+a hurry for breakfast for a few minutes, are
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; I answered, taking the chair which
+he pushed towards me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. My wife will be down in a quarter
+of an hour, and we&rsquo;ll wait for her, if you don&rsquo;t
+mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I bowed my assent, murmuring that I should
+be delighted, which was perfectly true.</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale turned a little round in his
+chair so as to face me and began at once:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am rather a blunt sort of man, Mr. Morton&mdash;we
+Irish generally are, you know&mdash;and I like to
+go straight at a thing. Will you tell me your
+mother&rsquo;s maiden name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would with pleasure if I knew it,&rdquo; I answered
+readily; &ldquo;but I don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is she alive?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She died about nine months ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_266">[266]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;And Morton is your name? May I ask who
+your father was?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. He was a farmer in Leicestershire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A farmer?&rdquo; Lord Langerdale looked surprised
+and I fancied a little disappointed. &ldquo;Was
+he your mother&rsquo;s first husband?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was about to answer in the affirmative, but
+remembered that I had no certain knowledge, so
+I corrected myself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may think it strange, Lord Langerdale,&rdquo;
+I said, &ldquo;but I know nothing of my mother&rsquo;s
+antecedents, nor of her family. From my earliest
+recollection she never mentioned her past, nor permitted
+others to do so. There was some mystery
+connected with it, I am sure; but what it was I
+have no clue.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could not help observing, as everyone else
+did, that she was far above my father from a social
+point of view, for she was an educated lady and he
+was only a small tenant farmer. Throughout all
+her life she was reticent, and her last act before
+she died was a paradox. She left me to the guardianship
+of the man whom she had always before seemed
+to dread and fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is his name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor, of Ravenor Castle. We were
+tenants of his.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale&rsquo;s whole appearance was that
+of a man strongly agitated. He turned his head
+away for a moment, and the long, white fingers
+which supported it were shaking visibly.</p>
+<p>I, too, was moved, for it seemed as though the
+time were come at last when something of my
+mother&rsquo;s history would be made known to me.
+But he seemed in no hurry to speak again. It
+was I who had to remind him of my presence.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_267">[267]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Langerdale,&rdquo; I cried, my voice, despite
+all my efforts, trembling with eagerness, &ldquo;you
+know who my mother was? You can tell me her
+history?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned round slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One more question,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Are you sure
+that you were born at Ravenor?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have never heard otherwise,&rdquo; I told him.
+&ldquo;But when I asked my mother once at which
+church I was christened, she could not tell me
+and forbade me to ask again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale looked puzzled for a moment,
+and then asked me my age, which I told
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you remember the time when news came
+of Mr. Ravenor, after he had been supposed to have
+been dead for so long?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. It is about my earliest distinct recollection,&rdquo;
+I answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you remember how your mother received
+the news?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yes, I remembered. Even at that moment a
+vision rose up before me. I saw her standing
+beneath the ivy-covered porch of our farmhouse,
+her beautiful face ghastly with sudden pallor,
+and her wild eyes riveted upon my father&rsquo;s burly
+figure, as he shouted out the tidings. I described
+the scene to Lord Langerdale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And afterwards did she ever mention Mr.
+Ravenor&rsquo;s name to you? Did she see anything
+of him?&rdquo; he asked, when I had finished.</p>
+<p>Briefly I told him of her warnings, of my meeting
+with Mr. Ravenor, of his proposal to adopt me,
+and of my mother&rsquo;s death, and how at the end she
+suddenly turned round and left me to his guardianship.
+When I had finished he laid his hand upon
+my arm.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_268">[268]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go upstairs to my rooms,&rdquo; he said kindly.
+&ldquo;If my wife were to come in now and learn the
+truth&mdash;and I&rsquo;m a bad hand at keeping anything
+back from her&mdash;I&rsquo;m afraid the shock would be too
+much for her. Come with me and I will tell you
+your mother&rsquo;s history.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So I rose and followed him with beating heart.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_269">[269]</div>
+<h2 id="c48">CHAPTER XLVIII.
+<br /><span class="small">A PAGE OF HISTORY.</span></h2>
+<p>Lord Langerdale&rsquo;s suite of apartments was on
+the second floor, and when we reached them it
+was no small relief to me to find the room into
+which we turned empty. I sank mechanically
+into the chair to which he pointed, whilst he
+himself remained standing a few feet away from
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what you have told me,&rdquo; he said gravely,
+&ldquo;I have not the least doubt but that my wife
+and your mother were sisters.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I gave a little gasp and began to wonder whether
+this was not all a wild dream. Lord Langerdale
+remained silent, whilst I recovered myself in some
+measure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you tell me about it?&rdquo; I asked slowly.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you everything,&rdquo; Lord Langerdale
+said kindly. &ldquo;This is a great surprise to you, of
+course, and quite as great a one to me. Here
+is the story&mdash;or, rather, as much as I know
+of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He cleared his throat and took a chair by
+my side. Everything else in the room except
+his face was blurred and indistinct, and his
+voice seemed to come to me from a long distance.
+But every word he uttered sank into my
+heart.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_270">[270]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Your grandfather was a very poor and
+very proud English baronet&mdash;Sir Arthur Montavon.
+My wife Elsie and your mother were his
+only children, and they were twins. They were
+presented at Court together, created an equal
+sensation, and were at once allowed to be the
+beauties of the season. This was the time
+when I first knew them, so it is here that I
+begin my tale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Six months after their appearance in Society,
+Elsie was engaged to be married to me. But your
+mother seemed to be more difficult to please. She
+refused several very good offers, and at the end of
+her first season she was still free.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know exactly how or where she first
+met him,&rdquo; Lord Langerdale continued slowly;
+&ldquo;but before the following spring your mother
+was betrothed to the Count de Cartienne. At
+that time he was one of the richest, the best-looking,
+and most popular men about town. There seemed
+to be nothing which he could not do, no art
+in which he was not proficient, and he was
+passionately in love with your mother. Whether
+she ever really cared for him I cannot tell; but if
+she did, it could only have been a very transitory
+feeling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The marriage-day was fixed and was a general
+topic of conversation. I even believe that your
+mother had begun to prepare her trousseau, when
+something happened. Count de Cartienne was
+deposed from his post of chief favourite in Society,
+which he at one time held, by a younger and more
+extraordinary man. That man was&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor!&rdquo; I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale nodded.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_271">[271]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;that you can
+possibly imagine from the Mr. Ravenor of to-day
+what he was when he became the rage of London
+Society. He had just returned from his first
+journey in the East, after some perilous adventures,
+which had filled the columns of the newspapers for
+weeks and had already created a strong curiosity
+about him. I met him, I think, on the first
+evening he entered a London drawing-room, and I
+will never forget it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was as handsome as a Greek god, with
+limbs magnificently developed by his hardy,
+vigorous life and rigid asceticism, with the head
+of a Byron, the manners of a Grandison, and
+the fire and eloquence of a Burke, when he
+chose to open his mouth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Men and women alike were fascinated, which
+was all the more remarkable as he sought no intimate
+amongst the former, and studiously avoided
+compromising himself with any of the latter,
+although, Heaven knows, he had no lack of
+opportunity. The only man with whom he
+seemed to be on at all friendly terms was de
+Cartienne; and the only woman to whom he paid
+any save the most ordinary attention was your
+mother.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale paused for several moments
+and seemed wrapped in a brown study, from which
+my impatience aroused him. He continued at
+once:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Things went on smoothly for a time, and then
+rumours began to get about. At first there were
+only faint whispers, but presently people began
+to talk openly. Count de Cartienne had better
+beware, they said, or he would lose his bride. At
+first he treated all such suggestions with contempt,
+but the time came when he was forced to consider
+them seriously.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_272">[272]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor published a small volume of
+poems anonymously, amongst which were some
+passionate love-sonnets addressed to A. M. Everyone
+was talking of the book and wondering who
+the new poet was, when, through some treachery
+in the publisher&rsquo;s office, the secret leaked out, and
+everyone then knew that those thrilling love-songs
+were addressed to Alice Montavon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;de Cartienne went straight to Mr. Ravenor
+and demanded an explanation. Mr. Ravenor
+acknowledged the authorship of the poems, and
+did not deny that the verses in question were
+addressed to your mother; further than that
+he would not say a word, and simply referred
+de Cartienne to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He went straight to her, poor fellow! and
+was met with a piteous entreaty that he would
+release her from her engagement. She loved Mr.
+Ravenor and could marry no one else. What
+followed remains to some extent a secret; but
+this much we know:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was a furious scene between de Cartienne
+and your mother, which ended in his refusing
+to give her up and threatening to shoot his
+rival if ever he saw them together again. Sir
+Arthur Montavon, who was deeply in de Cartienne&rsquo;s
+debt, swore that the marriage should
+take place, and apparently they gained their end,
+for Mr. Ravenor suddenly disappeared, and it
+was reported that he had left the country. On
+the very day before the wedding, however,
+Society was furnished with a still more sensational
+piece of scandal; your mother left her
+home secretly and the companion of her flight was
+Mr. Ravenor!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_273">[273]</div>
+<p>I could sit still no longer, but rose and walked
+up and down the room with quick, unsteady strides.
+Lord Langerdale watched me with a great and
+growing pity in his honest face. There was
+silence between us for several minutes, during
+which, after one keen, restless look of inquiry,
+I kept my face turned away from his. Then
+he continued his story in a somewhat lower
+key:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For two days de Cartienne was virtually a
+maniac. Then he seemed suddenly to come to
+his senses, and I think we all&mdash;Elsie and I especially&mdash;dreaded
+his terrible, set calmness more even
+than his previous fury. He made no wild threats,
+nor did he talk to anyone of his intentions. But
+we all knew what they were; and when he left
+London, secretly and alone, we trembled, for we
+knew that he was going in search of your mother.
+He needed no help, for he was himself a born
+detective, and possessed in a marvellous degree the
+art of disguising himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Every day we searched the newspapers
+anxiously, dreading lest we should read of the
+tragedy which we feared was inevitable. But we
+heard nothing. The weeks crept on into months
+and the months to years and still we heard nothing&mdash;not
+even from your mother.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We advertised, made every possible form of
+inquiry, but in vain. Then came the news of Mr.
+Ravenor&rsquo;s shipwreck and supposed death, and we
+concluded that your mother had perished with
+him. I accepted a foreign appointment, and only
+returned to England, after ten years&rsquo; absence, last
+week. I heard at once of Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s marvellous
+return to life and I wrote to him. The
+only reply I received was a single sentence:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You can tell your wife that her sister is dead.
+I have no more to say.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only yesterday, to my amazement, I met
+de Cartienne again, and with him, you, who, I
+felt sure from the beginning, must be Alice&rsquo;s
+son. It may seem strange to you that I should
+know so much and yet know no more. But it
+is so.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_274">[274]</div>
+<p>I turned round and faced him slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean to say, then, that after her
+elopement my mother never once communicated
+with her father or sister?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only in this way. She left a private message
+for my wife, telling her through whom to forward
+a letter, but not disclosing her whereabouts. Sir
+Arthur Montavon intercepted the message and
+took advantage of it to write a cruel, stern letter,
+forbidding her ever to appear in his presence again,
+or to address him or her sister; and I am sorry
+to say that, at his command, my wife, too, wrote
+in a censorious vein, hoping to make up for it by
+sending another letter a few days afterwards.
+The first letter your mother received; the second
+missed her. She inherited a good deal of her father&rsquo;s
+firmness, almost severity, of disposition, and I
+have no doubt that the receipt of those letters
+would lead her to cut herself off altogether from
+her family.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you do not even know where she and
+Mr. Ravenor were married?&rdquo; I asked huskily.</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale shook his head, and I noticed
+that he failed to look me in the face. I braced
+myself up with a great effort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Langerdale,&rdquo; I said quietly, &ldquo;this is a
+matter of life or death to me. You seem to
+avoid my question. Answer me this: Have you
+any reason to suppose that&mdash;that there was no
+marriage?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_275">[275]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;None at all,&rdquo; he answered quickly. &ldquo;But,
+my dear boy,&rdquo; he went on, coming over to my
+side and resting his hand upon my shoulder, &ldquo;it
+is always as well to be prepared for the worst. I
+will tell you how it has seemed to me sometimes.
+Mr. Ravenor had very peculiar views with regard
+to marriage, something similar to those Shelley
+held in his youth, and we never heard of any ceremony,
+which seems strange. Then, too, their
+separation and your mother&rsquo;s marriage to a farmer,
+her stern, lonely life afterwards, and the fact
+that your birth has been kept concealed from
+you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He hesitated and seemed to gather encouragement
+from my face. I could not, I would not,
+for a moment share his fear when I thought
+steadfastly about it. I thought of my mother
+dying, with a saint-like peace upon her face,
+in Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s arms. I thought of the
+calm, sorrowful dignity of her life, and the idea
+refused for a moment to linger in my mind.
+Some other great cause for estrangement there
+must have been between them, but not that&mdash;not
+that!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go down and see Ravenor to-day,&rdquo; Lord
+Langerdale declared, with sudden energy. &ldquo;I
+will wrest the truth from him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This matter lies between him and me only,&rdquo;
+I said, in a low tone. &ldquo;I will go to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The handle of the door was softly turned and
+Lady Langerdale stood upon the threshold. Her
+husband went over to her at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Elsie,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you were right. There are
+many things which yet remain in darkness; but
+this is Alice&rsquo;s boy&mdash;your sister&rsquo;s son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She came up to me with outstretched hands
+and a wistful look in her sweet, womanly face.</p>
+<p>My heart stood still for a moment, and then
+gave a great throb as I felt the warm clasp of her
+hands and the tremulous touch of her lips upon
+my forehead.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_276">[276]</div>
+<p>I knew that I had reached a crisis in my
+life, and though it had brought with it a great
+fear, it had also brought a great joy, for it
+seemed as though the days of my loneliness were
+over.</p>
+<p>Could I doubt it when I looked into Lady Langerdale&rsquo;s
+face and felt my uncle&rsquo;s warm hand-clasp?
+There was a sweetness about such a thought hard
+for another to realise, and for a moment I gave
+myself up to it. Whilst Lord Langerdale briefly told
+his wife the few particulars which I had been able
+to give him of my mother and myself, I stood
+between the two, keenly conscious of and enjoying
+the change which seemed hovering over
+my life.</p>
+<p>But afterwards I remembered the ordeal which
+I had yet to face and the mission which had brought
+me to London, and they saw the gladness die slowly
+out of my face.</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale questioned me concerning it,
+and then I told them everything&mdash;told them of our
+suspicions in connection with Mr. Marx and of
+my determination to find him out, and discover
+whether he had been guilty of foul play towards
+the man Hart.</p>
+<p>When I came to my last night&rsquo;s adventure with
+Count de Cartienne, Lord Langerdale looked very
+grave.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It seems to me,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;that this is
+more a matter for the police than for you to mix
+yourself up in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head. Of one thing I did feel confident,
+although, as regards the whole of the rest
+of the affair, I was in a complete maze.</p>
+<p>However anxious Mr. Ravenor might be for the
+truth concerning the missing man to be discovered,
+he had strong reasons for not wishing the police
+to take part in the search. I felt sure of that, and
+was determined to act accordingly.</p>
+<p>Lord Langerdale was not easily reassured.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_277">[277]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the idea of your having anything
+whatever to do with de Cartienne in all the circumstances,&rdquo;
+he said, with a shudder. &ldquo;He can
+have but one feeling for you, and a more dangerous
+man does not breathe. It is an evil chance that
+has brought you together.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_278">[278]</div>
+<h2 id="c49">CHAPTER XLIX.
+<br /><span class="small">I WILL GO ALONE.</span></h2>
+<p>We all sat down to breakfast together. Lord
+Langerdale divided his attention between his breakfast
+and <i>The Times</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you going shopping to-day, Elsie?&rdquo; he
+asked, looking up from his paper.</p>
+<p>She glanced at him inquiringly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Be very careful about your change, then.
+There has never been so much bad money about
+as just now. The papers are full of the most
+startling rumours. Coining must be going on in
+London somewhere upon an enormous scale, and
+the police are&mdash;&mdash; Why, Philip, what&rsquo;s the matter
+with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I recovered myself promptly and set down the
+cup which I had been within an ace of spilling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The coffee was a little hot,&rdquo; I said slowly.
+&ldquo;It was very stupid of me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went on reading and Lady Langerdale began
+to talk to me. But my attention was wandering.
+It was a strange idea which had occurred to me,
+perhaps a ridiculous one. Yet it was possessed
+of a certain fascination.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_279">[279]</div>
+<p>In the middle of breakfast a waiter brought
+me a note. Lady Langerdale&rsquo;s permission was
+given unasked and I tore it open. It was from
+de Cartienne, and the contents, though brief,
+were to the point:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="sc">My dear Morton,</span>&mdash;I have seen the man
+whom you are seeking and I know for certain
+where he will be to-morrow night. My carriage
+shall call for you at ten o&rsquo;clock in the evening&mdash;to-morrow,
+mind; not this evening&mdash;and if you
+care to come I will bring you to him. By the by,
+you might as well bring with you the box which
+you were good enough to take care of&mdash;Yours,</p>
+<p><span class="lr">&ldquo;<span class="sc">E. de C.</span>&rdquo;</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>I handed it to Lord Langerdale, who adjusted his
+glasses and read it through carefully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like it,&rdquo; he remarked, when he had
+finished; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t like it at all. Take my advice,
+Philip; send him his box, or whatever it is, and
+don&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must find out about Mr. Marx,&rdquo; I answered,
+&ldquo;and I know of no other means. That will be to-morrow
+night, you know. To-day&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, what are we going to do to-day?&rdquo; Lord
+Langerdale interrupted.</p>
+<p>I answered him without hesitation:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going down to Ravenor Castle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked surprised, a little agitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall go with you,&rdquo; Lord Langerdale suddenly
+declared. &ldquo;Alice was my sister-in-law, and if
+Ravenor deserted or ill-used her, I have the right to
+call him to account for it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I a better one,&rdquo; I reminded him quietly.
+&ldquo;Grant me this favour please. I must go alone and
+see him&mdash;alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at his wife and she inclined her head
+towards me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The boy is right,&rdquo; she said softly. &ldquo;It is his
+affair, not ours. It will be better for him to go
+alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_280">[280]</div>
+<h2 id="c50">CHAPTER L.
+<br /><span class="small">I MEET MY FATHER.</span></h2>
+<p>After a wearying journey I stood at last before the
+great gates of the castle, the bell at my feet giving
+shrill notice of my presence. The lodge-keeper
+hurried out and welcomed me.</p>
+<p>I walked swiftly up the winding ascent, straight
+across the flagged courtyard and entered the castle
+by a side-door. Then, heedless of the surprised
+looks of the servants, I made my way to the library,
+and knocking softly at the door of the inner room,
+entered.</p>
+<p>At first it seemed to me that he was not there,
+for the chamber was in semi-darkness. The heavily-shaded
+lamp which stood upon the writing-table
+was turned down so low as to afford no
+light at all, and the fitful glow of the firelight
+left the greater part of the room in shadow.
+But as I stood upon the threshold a burning coal
+dropped upon the hearth, and by its flame I saw
+him leaning back in a high oak chair a few feet
+away.</p>
+<p>Softly I moved across the room towards him and
+then I saw that he was asleep.</p>
+<p>I made no movement, but somehow he
+seemed to become conscious of my presence and
+opened his eyes. They fell upon me standing
+on the hearth-rug before him, and he sat up with a
+start.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_281">[281]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;you here? You back?
+You have found him, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the sound of his voice I trembled, yet I
+answered him at once:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet. To-morrow night I shall see him.
+Till then I could do nothing&mdash;and I came here.&rdquo;
+He looked at my mud-bespattered boots and
+wind-tossed hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have walked from Mellborough?&rdquo; he
+asked. Then something in my face seemed to
+strike him, and, leaning forward, he placed his
+hands upon my shoulders and turned towards the
+glow of the fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have come with a purpose!&rdquo; he said
+slowly. &ldquo;Tell me&mdash;you have heard something in
+London?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I bowed my head silently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some story of the past&mdash;my past?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then there was silence between us. I bore it till
+I could bear it no longer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you wonder that I have come?&rdquo; I cried,
+my voice shaking with a passion which I knew no
+longer how to restrain. &ldquo;Oh, speak to me! Tell
+me whether this thing is true?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is true.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had drawn back a little; he had hesitated.
+I caught hold of his hands and drew him towards
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father,&rdquo; I cried passionately, &ldquo;speak to
+me! Why do you draw away? Is it because&mdash;because&mdash;oh,
+only speak to me, call me your son,
+and if there be anything to forgive I will forgive
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_282">[282]</div>
+<p>He seemed suddenly to abandon an unnatural
+struggle and caught me by the hands and clasped
+them. For a moment his face was radiant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, my son, my dear son!&rdquo; he cried.
+&ldquo;Thank God, it is not that! Thank God,
+that my name is yours! You are indeed my
+son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After a considerable silence my father told me
+how he had met Marx abroad. He had done him
+some service and they had become friendly. He
+latterly engaged him as secretary.</p>
+<p>Then he went on to tell me how Marx had met
+him on his return after his long absence and had
+taken him to see his wife, who believed him
+dead.</p>
+<p>He then told me how he had found her married
+again to Farmer Morton and implored her to come
+back to him. She refused, and he, in a blind fury,
+rushed back to where he had left Marx.</p>
+<p>He was attacked by Morton; a struggle ensued
+on the brink of the slate-pit. After a time my
+father managed to fling Morton from him and
+fled.</p>
+<p>That night Marx came to him and told him he
+had thrown Morton into the quarry, and that a man
+named Hart, <i>alias</i> Francis, had witnessed the deed.
+My father wanted to confess, but Marx persuaded
+him to keep silent and paid Francis to bear the
+crime.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now you know why I shrank from calling you
+my son, knowing that when the time came for you
+to be told of your parentage, I must also tell you
+that your father was a murderer!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is false!&rdquo; I cried, springing up and seizing
+both his hands. &ldquo;It was an accident. No one
+could call it a murder. Oh, my father, my father,
+that you should have suffered like this for so slight
+a cause!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_283">[283]</div>
+<p>A light leaped into his face and for a moment
+his wasted features and sunken eyes glowed and
+shone with a great, unexpected happiness. He
+drew me gently to him and laid his hands upon
+my shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God for this, Philip!&rdquo; he said, with
+trembling voice. &ldquo;It is greater consolation than
+I ever dared hope for in this world.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_284">[284]</div>
+<h2 id="c51">CHAPTER LI.
+<br /><span class="small">DAWN.</span></h2>
+<p>On the morrow as we walked out together, my
+father and I, making our way as though by common
+consent up towards the bare brown hills, I remembered
+that there were many things which I wished
+to say to him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to ask you about Mr. Marx, father,&rdquo;
+I began. &ldquo;Everything concerning him is so
+utterly mysterious, especially his going away so
+suddenly. Apart from the fear of his having used
+some sort of foul play towards Hart&mdash;or Francis&mdash;I
+can&rsquo;t help thinking that there is something else
+wrong with him. You trust him thoroughly, I
+suppose?&rdquo; I added hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have always done so,&rdquo; my father answered
+quietly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you like the man himself?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>My father shrugged his shoulders indifferently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot say that he has ever aroused my
+feelings in any way,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;He has had
+work to do for me and has done it well and
+silently. I have looked upon him somewhat as
+an automaton, although a valuable one. And
+yet&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he added musingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yet what?&rdquo; I interrupted.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_285">[285]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sometimes I have half fancied that he
+was playing a part, that his interest in our work
+was a little strained. He gave me the idea of a
+man working steadily forward towards a set purpose,
+and I have never seemed able to reconcile
+that purpose with the completion of our task. His
+sudden absences, too&mdash;for this is not the first of
+them,&mdash;are strange.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should think so,&rdquo; I assented. &ldquo;Has he
+taken anything away with him this time?&rdquo; I
+asked bluntly.</p>
+<p>A very grave look came into my father&rsquo;s face
+and he did not answer me at once. When he did
+so his tone was low and anxious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he has. About a fortnight ago we came
+to the end, virtually, of our long task. There was
+only a little revision wanted, which he was to have
+left for me. The night that he disappeared the
+manuscript disappeared also. Evidently he took it
+away with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he has taken it to the publishers,&rdquo; I
+suggested. My father shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only this morning I have heard from them,
+begging me to forward it without delay,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>I was silent. Even if he had taken the manuscript,
+what use could he make of it? How could
+it profit him?</p>
+<p>Suddenly I stood still in the path. My heart
+gave a great leap and a cry broke from my lips.
+For the first time an idea, the vague phantom of
+an idea, swept in upon me, carrying all before it,
+and casting a brilliant, lurid light upon all that
+seemed so dark and mysterious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This man, Marx,&rdquo; I cried, seizing my father&rsquo;s
+arm. &ldquo;Tell me quickly. Has he ever reminded
+you of anyone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father looked at me wonderingly.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_286">[286]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It is strange that you should ask that,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Sometimes, especially when I have come
+upon him alone, or have seen him excited, his tone
+and little mannerisms have seemed somehow vaguely
+familiar. And yet,&rdquo; he added thoughtfully, &ldquo;I
+have never been able to recall of whom they have
+reminded me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I opened my trembling lips to speak, but a wave
+of cold doubt swept in upon me. Surely this thing
+could not be! I must be mad to let the idea linger
+for a moment in my mind. And yet&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>At that moment of my hesitation, my father&rsquo;s
+hand fell heavily upon my arm. He pointed forward
+along the dark avenue with a shaking finger.
+In the dim twilight we could see the tall gaunt
+figure of a man in ragged clothes, making his way
+up to the castle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is not one of my men, Philip,&rdquo; he said
+hoarsely. &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a stranger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father turned abruptly from the avenue into
+a side-walk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Follow me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;we will go in by the
+private way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We walked across the turf, through a little iron
+gate, which my father unlocked, and entered the
+shrubbery walk.</p>
+<p>Once I looked round through an opening in the
+laurel leaves. The stranger was leaning wearily
+against the railings round the lodge, waiting for
+admittance.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_287">[287]</div>
+<h2 id="c52">CHAPTER LII.
+<br /><span class="small">WHERE IS MR. MARX?</span></h2>
+<p>Not until we had reached the Castle and were in
+the library did my father speak to me. Then his
+words were grave enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have done Mr. Marx an injury, Philip,&rdquo; he
+said slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, and you will know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went to the telephone and signalled. The
+answer came at once.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Someone has been asking for me at the gate,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A stranger, sir, to see you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hart, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he waiting?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir. I told him that it would be useless,
+but he refuses to go away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can pass him. Send him here at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father turned away and looked at me with
+all the old weariness in his face, but with little
+agitation. Of the two, I was the more nervous.
+I crossed the room and laid my hand gently upon
+his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God that I am here with you! What
+shall you say to him, father? What does he want,
+think you? Money?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_288">[288]</div>
+<p>My father shook his head sadly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He would send if that were all. He has what
+he wants and that is not much. I fear that he
+wants something else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His good name cleared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He took the guilt willingly,&rdquo; I cried. &ldquo;He
+must bear it now. He cannot escape from it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can,&rdquo; my father answered. &ldquo;He can tell
+the truth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one would believe him. It would be his
+word against yours. What chance would he have?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father turned a stern, dark face upon me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you think that I would swear to a lie,
+Philip? No! There was always this risk. I have
+felt that if ever he should demand to be set right
+with the world, it must be done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shall be done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We started, for the words came from the other
+side of the room. Standing in the deep shadows
+just inside the door was a tall, gaunt man, with
+long dishevelled beard and pale, ghastly face. His
+clothes were ragged and weather-stained and his
+boots were thick with mud. I looked towards him
+fascinated. It was the face of the lunatic who had
+twice attempted Mr. Marx&rsquo;s life. It was Hart,
+<i>alias</i> Francis, the man who held in his hands a
+life dearer to me than my own.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it really you, Francis?&rdquo; my father asked,
+in a shocked tone. &ldquo;You are altered. You have
+been ill. Sit down.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took no notice. Whilst my father had been
+speaking his eyes had been wandering restlessly
+round the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is&mdash;he?&rdquo; he asked hoarsely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean Mr. Marx?&rdquo; I said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is in London.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_289">[289]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was an expression in his face partly of
+disappointment, partly of relief. He drew a long
+breath and remained silent, as though waiting to
+be questioned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you want money?&rdquo; my father asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you want to give up your secret, to let the
+world know the truth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A cry burst from my lips, but my father checked
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is well,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Sit down. You need not
+fear; I will confess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have nothing to confess. It is I who must
+do that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; my father asked, peering
+forward into the darkness, for there was no
+lamp lit in the room. &ldquo;Come nearer; I cannot see
+your face.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With trembling fingers I drew up the blind from
+the high window. The moon, which had just
+emerged from a bank of black, flying clouds, cast
+a long stream of light across the room.</p>
+<p>Francis moved forward with slow, reluctant steps.
+Then, with a sudden, wild cry, he threw himself
+upon his knees before my father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As God in Heaven forgives, swear that you will
+forgive me!&rdquo; he cried passionately.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Forgive! I have nothing to forgive,&rdquo; my
+father answered gently. &ldquo;You wish to lay down
+your burden. Good! I am ready to take it up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stooped forward in his chair and stretched
+out his hand to the man to help him rise. In his
+altered position the moonlight seemed to cast a sort
+of halo round his face, and it seemed to me like
+the face of an angel.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_290">[290]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me,&rdquo; cried the man; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t. I
+can&rsquo;t bear it! Let me tell you the truth, or I shall
+die. You think that you killed Farmer Morton.
+It&rsquo;s false! Mr. Marx killed him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father had sprung to his feet. Somehow,
+I found myself by his side. Francis still grovelled
+on the floor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Up, man, and tell me all the truth,&rdquo; my father
+cried out in a voice of thunder; &ldquo;up on your feet
+and speak like a man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He obeyed at once, trembling in every limb.
+Then he faltered out his story:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was in the wood that night. It was dark;
+I lost my way. Suddenly I heard voices&mdash;yours
+and Morton&rsquo;s. You were struggling within a few
+feet of me. Before I could interfere you had thrown
+him down and rushed away. I heard him breathing
+hard, and I saw Mr. Marx steal out from behind
+a tree and creep up to him. Morton heard, too,
+and sprang up. They struggled together; perhaps
+in the darkness, Morton mistook him for you. I
+remembered the quarry and rushed out. I was too
+late.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was a fearful flash of lightning and I
+saw Marx put forth all his strength and throw the
+other into the slate-pit. He turned round and
+saw me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He would have hurled me over, too, if he had
+dared, but I was strong and he was exhausted.
+So he offered me money to go away. I accepted,
+never thinking that they would fix the crime upon
+me. Marx had thought it all out with a devilish
+cunning. He provided me with disguises and told
+me where to go to and how to get there. When I
+was safe away and read the papers, I saw at once
+how I had been trapped. I had pleaded guilty to
+the murder.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_291">[291]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Time went on and I grew more miserable
+every day. Marx sent me plenty of money&mdash;too
+much. I began to drink. I was ill. When I recovered
+I wrote to tell him that I could bear it
+no longer and that I was coming to see him. I
+told him that I meant to go to a magistrate after
+I had given him time to get out of the country.
+He dared me to come to the Castle. Still,
+I came. It was dusk when I got here. He met
+me in the avenue. He offered me large sums of
+money to go away, but I was determined and
+refused everything. It was then from something
+he let fall in his anger that I knew how he had
+been deceiving you. Then I would not listen to him
+any more and bade him stand out of the way.
+He let me pass him and then struck me on the back
+of the head with some heavy weapon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; I cried. &ldquo;I was close to you. I
+heard you cry and I met Mr. Marx directly afterwards.
+He must have thrown you down the gravel-pit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was there I found myself when I came to
+my senses,&rdquo; Francis continued. &ldquo;Directly I sat
+up and tried to think over what had happened I
+began to feel my head swim. After that everything
+is blurred and dim in my mind. I fled. The
+second time, you, Mr. Morton, saved his life from
+me, as my fingers were closing upon his throat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They put me in an asylum. Afterwards Mr.
+Marx passed himself off as my brother and had me
+moved into a private one. The commissioners
+came and I appeared before them. I was sane.
+They let me go. Where is Mr. Marx? Where is
+Mr. Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a deep silence. Then I held out my
+hand to my father and he clasped it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God!&rdquo; I cried, my voice quivering with
+a great sob&mdash;&ldquo;thank God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Amen,&rdquo; my father repeated softly.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_292">[292]</div>
+<p>Again that question, in the same dry, hard tone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Mr. Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We looked at him&mdash;at his nervously twitching
+hands and burning eyes. The madness was upon
+him again. We must not let him go. My father
+drew me on one side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall go to London with you to-night,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;What shall we do with this man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He must stay here,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;Leave it
+to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I went up to him and laid my hand upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, Francis,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;There are two
+places where Mr. Marx is likely to be this week.
+One is in London, the other here. Do you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;I understand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Mr. Ravenor and I know best where to
+find him in London, but we can&rsquo;t leave unless we
+know that there is someone on the look-out here
+as well. If we go to London, will you remain here
+and watch for him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man&rsquo;s eyes sparkled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered quickly. &ldquo;This is the room
+where he writes, isn&rsquo;t it? He will come here.
+Yes, I will wait; I will watch here in this room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father rang a bell and ordered a carriage to
+take us to the station. Then he gave special orders
+about Francis. He was to be allowed to remain in
+the library, to use Mr. Ravenor&rsquo;s own sleeping
+apartment, and to have meals brought to him
+regularly.</p>
+<p>An hour later we left the castle for Torchester.
+As we drove across the courtyard we could see a
+pale, gaunt figure standing at the library window,
+silent and rigid. It was Francis, waiting.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_293">[293]</div>
+<h2 id="c53">CHAPTER LIII.
+<br /><span class="small">MESSRS. HIGGENSON AND CO.</span></h2>
+<p>At ten o&rsquo;clock we reached St. Pancras, travelling
+by fast train from Torchester, and half an hour
+later a hansom put us down at the Hotel Metropole.
+Immediately in front of the entrance Count de
+Cartienne&rsquo;s small brougham was waiting, and as we
+descended from the cab his servant stepped forward
+and handed me a note. I tore it open and read it
+under the gas-lamp.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come to me at once and you will find Mr.
+M&mdash;&mdash;. Bring the box with you.&mdash;C&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I passed the note on to my father and drew him
+a little on one side. At the sight of the handwriting
+he started.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, whose writing is this?&rdquo; he asked quickly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The writing of the man who alone knows where
+Marx is,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;It is he who calls for his
+letters and forwards them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His name? I insist upon knowing his name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;de Cartienne.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father&rsquo;s face turned a shade paler and his
+eyebrows contracted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have been keeping this from me, Philip.
+You shall not go near that man. I forbid it. My
+God! Marx and de Cartienne friends!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_294">[294]</div>
+<p>He stopped short on the pavement and looked
+at me with a new light in his face. He began to
+understand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marx and de Cartienne,&rdquo; he repeated slowly.
+&ldquo;Philip, cannot you see what this means? Marx
+has been de Cartienne&rsquo;s tool and I have been
+their victim. Where is de Cartienne? Philip, you
+shall tell me! Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father seized my arm and held it fast. I
+turned and faced him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father, you must leave this to me,&rdquo; I
+said, firmly. &ldquo;I have thought it all over in
+the train and my plans are made. You will trust
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me what they are,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have in my possession a box belonging to
+de Cartienne, which contains a secret. Until I
+yield that box up to him I am safe, since he can
+only get it from me. You see that he tells me in
+this note to bring it with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Go on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I am going without the box, and if he
+is really ignorant of who I am and willing to give
+me the information about Marx, why, then I can
+easily come back for it, and whatever it contains
+he must have unopened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If, on the other hand, I fall into any sort of
+trap and he makes me send for it, then, immediately
+on receipt of my message, no matter how it
+is couched, you must force the box open, and if it
+contains anything in the least suspicious, come
+straight to my aid with the police. The messenger
+who comes for the box must be bribed or frightened
+into bringing you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not like it, Philip. It is all too roundabout.
+If de Cartienne has any idea who you are, you are
+running a risk.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_295">[295]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;Until he gets
+possession of that box he will feel himself, to a
+certain extent, in my hands and will not be likely
+to do me an injury.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you suppose the box contains?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated and looked around. de Cartienne&rsquo;s
+servant was some distance off and there was no
+one within hearing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you read the newspapers just lately?&rdquo;
+I asked.</p>
+<p>My father shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only the literary newspapers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I bought a special edition, which a newsboy was
+brandishing in our faces, and, turning down the
+leading article, passed it on to my father. He
+glanced down at it and then looked up at me in
+blank amazement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, you cannot mean this!&rdquo; he exclaimed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I do, indeed; but
+whether there is anything in it or not we shall soon
+know. I must go now. You understand what to
+do if I send for the box.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like your expedition at all,&rdquo; he said,
+doubtfully. &ldquo;Have you any idea where you are
+going?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None; but I shall come to no harm. My
+star is in the ascendant now. If it leads me into
+danger it will bring me safely out of it. <i>Au
+revoir!</i>&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then I sprang into the carriage and was driven
+swiftly away.</p>
+<p>Our journey came to a sudden end, and, if I was
+surprised at the locality into which it had brought
+me, I was still more so at its termination. The
+carriage had stopped outside a gloomy-looking
+warehouse, the back of which, ornamented with
+several cranes, overlooked the river. The whole of
+the front appeared to be in darkness, but from a
+gas-lamp on the other side of the narrow way I
+could read the brass sign-plate by the side of the
+door:</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_296">[296]</div>
+<p class="center">HIGGENSON AND CO.
+<br /><span class="sc">Merchants and Exporters.</span></p>
+<p>The door of the carriage was thrown open and
+I was evidently expected to descend. I did so
+after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure that you have brought me to
+the right place?&rdquo; I asked the man who held the
+door open. &ldquo;This seems to be a warehouse. I
+think there must be some mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man silently closed the carriage door and
+stepped up to his seat beside the driver.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no mistake,&rdquo; he said curtly. &ldquo;You will
+find the Count de Cartienne&mdash;there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He pointed to the warehouse door and I saw
+that it was now open and that a man was standing
+upon the threshold. I turned towards him doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you come this way, Mr. Morton?&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Count de Cartienne is sorry to have to
+bring you here, but we are busy&mdash;very busy, and
+he had no time to get back to the hotel. The
+carriage will wait to take you back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man&rsquo;s manner and tone were certainly not
+those of a servant, but from the position in which
+he stood I could see nothing save the bare outline
+of his figure. I crossed the pavement towards him.</p>
+<p>We left the room and he conducted me down a
+passage and into a small chamber. Here my companion
+paused and lit a lamp which stood on a
+table in the middle of the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Count de Cartienne will be with you in a moment,&rdquo;
+he said, walking to the door. &ldquo;Kindly
+excuse me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_297">[297]</div>
+<p>I turned the lamp a little higher and looked
+around. The room was quite a small one and
+plainly furnished as a waiting-room.</p>
+<p>For the first time I began to realise fully what
+I had done in coming to this place at such an hour.
+Some wild thoughts of a tardy retreat flashed into
+my mind, and I tried the handle of the door by
+which we had entered. It turned, but the door
+remained closed. I stooped down and examined
+it. The result was as I had feared&mdash;a spring lock
+had fastened it. I tried the other door, by which
+my guide had issued. The result was the same. I
+was a prisoner.</p>
+<p>I had scarcely time to realise my position before
+it became necessary to act. The door was suddenly
+opened and Count de Cartienne stood before me,
+his eyes flashing with anger and his tall, lithe frame
+quivering with rage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why have you not brought that box?&rdquo; he
+exclaimed in a low, fierce tone.</p>
+<p>I stood up facing him, with my back to the
+table, striving to keep calm, for the situation was
+critical. The complete change in his appearance
+and manner towards me was sufficient warning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The box is safe enough,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;You
+can have it in an hour&rsquo;s time. But&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what?&rdquo; he interrupted, savagely. &ldquo;Why
+have you not brought it, as I bade you in my note?
+Why is it not here? We want it at once!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You forget that there is a <i>quid pro quo</i> which
+I expect from you. It seems to me, Count de
+Cartienne, that you are making a tool of me,
+and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it you want&mdash;to see this man Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he is not here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I checked the rejoinder which, had I spoken it,
+would probably have cost me my life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is he, then?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_298">[298]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you when you have written for that
+box,&rdquo; he said, opening a drawer and placing pen
+and paper upon the table.</p>
+<p>I shook my head. &ldquo;There is no need for me to
+write. It is of no use my remaining if Mr. Marx
+is not here. Send your servant back with me and
+I will give it him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I shall hold you as a hostage for the box.
+Besides, I have a few words to say to you, boy,&rdquo;
+he added grimly. &ldquo;Write.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I hesitated, but only for a moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do I understand that you detain me here
+against my will?&rdquo; I said, slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Understand anything you please, but write.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I took up the pen without another word. When
+I had finished the note he took it from me and read
+it through. Then he glanced at the address and
+started.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ravenor! Oh, Mr. Ravenor is in London,
+is he?&rdquo; he remarked slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked away with the ghost of an evil smile
+upon his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ravenor in London! How strange. He and I
+are old acquaintances. I must call on him,&rdquo; he
+added mockingly.</p>
+<p>He stood still for a moment and then left the
+room abruptly with the note in his hand. I tried
+to follow him, but the door closed too quickly. If
+I could have seen any means of escape I should
+have made use of them, for I had gained the knowledge
+which I had come to seek, and I knew that
+I was in danger. There was only that solitary
+window looking out upon the river and the closed
+door. If this man meant mischief, I was securely
+in his power.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_299">[299]</div>
+<h2 id="c54">CHAPTER LIV.
+<br /><span class="small">A RAID.</span></h2>
+<p>In a few minutes Count de Cartienne returned:</p>
+<p>He flashed a sudden keen glance at me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder if you have any idea as to the contents
+of that box,&rdquo; he said, keeping his eyes fixed
+curiously upon me.</p>
+<p>Looking back now, I see clearly that I was guilty
+of the grossest folly in answering as I did. But I
+was young, impetuous, conscious of great physical
+strength, and with all that contempt of danger
+which such consciousness brings. So, without hesitation,
+I drew from my pocket the evening paper
+which I had bought in Northumberland Avenue,
+and laid my finger upon the column which I had
+shown my father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This may have something to do with it,&rdquo; I
+remarked.</p>
+<p>His face grew a shade paler as he glanced it
+through. Then he folded it up and handed it back
+to me with a polite gesture.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So that is your idea, is it?&rdquo; he remarked.
+&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you go to Scotland Yard and tell them
+of your suspicions?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I felt that he was watching me keenly and made
+a great effort to remain composed, although my
+pulses were beating fast and I felt my colour
+rising.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_300">[300]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It was no business of mine,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;Besides,
+if I had done so I should have lost my chance
+of finding out anything about Mr. Marx from you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your reasoning does you infinite credit,&rdquo; he
+answered, with a slight sneer. &ldquo;You are quite a
+Machiavelli. Come; I want to show you over my&mdash;warehouse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I followed him reluctantly, for I liked his manner
+less and less; but I had scarcely an alternative.</p>
+<p>We passed along a narrow passage and through
+several rooms piled up to the ceiling with huge
+bales; then we descended a winding flight of iron
+steps, and as we reached the bottom I began to
+hear a faint hum of voices and strange, muffled
+sounds.</p>
+<p>He unlocked a small, hidden door before us, and
+we stood on the threshold of a large, dimly-lit
+cellar.</p>
+<p>One swift glance around showed me the truth of
+my vague suspicions, and warned me, too, of my
+peril. It was a weird sight. At the far end of
+the place a small furnace was burning, casting a
+vivid glow upon the white, startled faces of the
+men who were grouped around it. One held in his
+hand a great ladlefull of hissing liquid, and another
+on his knees was holding steady the mould which
+was to receive it. But though they kept their
+positions unchanged, they thought no more of their
+tasks. The attention of one and all was bent upon
+me in horror-struck amazement.</p>
+<p>The man who first recovered himself sufficiently
+to be able to frame an articulate sentence was the
+man holding the ladle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you mad, de Cartienne?&rdquo; he hissed out.
+&ldquo;What have you brought that young cub down
+here for?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_301">[301]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I have brought him here,&rdquo; he answered, with
+a shade of contempt in his tone at the alarm which
+they were all showing, &ldquo;because he is safer here
+than anywhere else&mdash;for the present.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Somehow or other&mdash;probably by looking inside
+that unfortunate box&mdash;this young cub, as you call
+him, knows our secret. To let him go would, of
+course, be absurd, so I&rsquo;ve brought him here to be
+tried for his unpardonable curiosity. What shall
+we do with him? I propose that we throw him into
+the river.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I moved a little farther back towards the door,
+listening with strained ears and bated breath, for
+I fancied that I heard a faint sound of voices and
+footsteps above. Apparently the others had heard
+it, too, for there was a death-like silence for a few
+moments. Then spoke the Count.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That must be Drummond with the box. Will
+you go and see, Ferrier?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was the trampling of many feet outside,
+and then a sudden swift torrent of blows upon the
+closed door.</p>
+<p>In an instant all was wild confusion. Count de
+Cartienne was the only one who was not panic-stricken.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The game is up,&rdquo; he cried fiercely, &ldquo;and here
+is the traitor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Like lightning he stooped down and I saw something
+in his hand flash before my eyes. There was
+a strange burning pain and then everything faded
+away before my sight. I heard the door beaten
+down and the sound of my rescuers streaming in.
+Then all sound became concentrated in a confused
+roar, which throbbed for a moment in my ears
+and then died away. Unconsciousness crept in
+upon me.</p>
+<p>When I opened my eyes again I found myself
+lying upon a bed in a strange room. By my
+side was my father, leaning back in a low, easy
+chair.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_302">[302]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;How long have I
+been here! Tell me all about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father stood up with a little exclamation of
+relief.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better, Philip? That is well. You are at the
+nearest decent hotel we could find last night, or
+rather this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me all about it,&rdquo; I cried.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Everyone was taken except de Cartienne. He
+fought like a tiger and got off. But it is only
+for a while. He will be caught. His description&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His description will be of no use at all,&rdquo; I interrupted,
+breathlessly. &ldquo;Has anything been heard
+of Mr. Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father picked up an open telegram from the
+table by his side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Marx has gone back to Ravenor. This
+telegram is from the stationmaster at Mellborough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I leapt from the bed and plunged my still
+aching head into a basin of water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill
+again if you excite yourself,&rdquo; my father said wondering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m all right,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;What is the
+time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Four o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o&rsquo;clock
+train to Mellborough,&rdquo; I urged.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;de Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is
+Marx we want.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he
+sprang to his feet with a low cry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip, why did you not tell me before?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_303">[303]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I
+kept it to myself. He thinks himself safe as Mr.
+Marx&mdash;safer than flying the country as the Count
+de Cartienne&mdash;the villain!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Suddenly my father stopped short on his way to
+the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip,&rdquo; he said hoarsely, &ldquo;do you remember
+whom we left at Ravenor waiting for Mr. Marx?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For the moment I had forgotten it. We looked
+at one another and there crept into my mind the
+vision of a gaunt, desperate man, his white face and
+burning eyes filled with an unutterable fiendish
+longing. The same thought filled us both. If
+Mr. Marx made use of his private keys and went
+straight to the library at the castle, what would
+come of it?</p>
+<p>I laid my hand upon my father&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is justice in the world after all,&rdquo; I said
+hoarsely. &ldquo;That man will kill him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then we went out together without another
+word.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_304">[304]</div>
+<h2 id="c55">CHAPTER LV.
+<br /><span class="small">THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.</span></h2>
+<p>It was twenty minutes to eight when we arrived
+at Mellborough, and, as we had not sent word on,
+there was no carriage to meet us, nor, as it happened,
+any spare vehicle. After a brief word or two with
+the stationmaster, we decided to walk down into
+the town and order a fly.</p>
+<p>When we reached the house, the butler stepped
+forward, his ruddy face blanched and his voice
+shaking.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God you are come, sir! The man you
+left here, he&rsquo;s gone a raving lunatic, and he&rsquo;s shut
+himself up there, and got your revolvers out, and
+swears that no one shall enter the room till you
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s someone with him,&rdquo; my father said
+quickly.</p>
+<p>The man&rsquo;s face seemed literally shrunken up with
+horror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s awful, sir; I&rsquo;ve been near once, and I&rsquo;ll
+never get over it as long as I live. He&rsquo;s got some
+poor wretch there, killing him by inches, torturing
+him like a cat does a mouse. He&rsquo;s been shrieking
+for help for hours, and we can do nothing. The
+poor creature must be nearly dead now. Ah, there
+it is again, sir! Four of our men have been shot
+trying to get to him. Listen! Oh, why does he
+not die!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_305">[305]</div>
+<p>A low, faint cry, full of a most heart-stirring
+anguish, floated out from the library window. It
+was the most awful sound I have ever heard in my
+life. Following close upon it, drowning its faint
+echo, came the loud mocking laugh of the torturer,
+ringing out harsh and mirthless in hideous
+contrast.</p>
+<p>A deep, audible shudder passed through the little
+group of bystanders. Then my father, without a
+word, started forward across the lawn towards the
+window and I followed close behind. It seemed to
+me that everyone must be holding their breath,
+the silence was so intense. The wind had dropped
+for a moment, and the moon shone faintly down
+through a cloud of mist upon the white, eager faces,
+filled now with a new anxiety.</p>
+<p>A few swift steps brought us to the window. A
+lamp was burning upon the writing-table and the
+interior of the room was clearly visible. On the
+floor a little distance from the window was a dark
+shape which, as we drew nearer, we could see to
+be the prostrate figure of a man. Walking up and
+down in front of it, with short, uneven steps, was
+Francis, his hair and dress in wild disorder and his
+whole appearance betokening that he had recently
+been engaged in a desperate struggle.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he turned round and saw us. With a
+wild cry of rage he rushed to the window, the glass
+of which was completely wrecked, and glared at
+us threateningly through the framework.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Away! away!&rdquo; he shrieked, &ldquo;or there will be
+more trouble! I must stay here, I must wait till
+he comes! Let me be, I tell you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The revolver, which he clenched in his right
+hand, was raised and levelled. It was a dreadful
+moment.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_306">[306]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It is I, Mr. Ravenor,&rdquo; my father answered
+calmly. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know me, Francis?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again the moon broke through the clouds and
+shone with a faint light upon my father&rsquo;s pale,
+stern face. Francis recognised him at once. He
+threw his hands high over his head in a wild gesture
+of welcome and flung open the window. My father
+walked steadily forward into the room and I followed
+him. Francis, trembling with eagerness,
+stood between us.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See,&rdquo; he cried, pointing downwards, &ldquo;is it not
+well done? See! Let me tell you about it. Quick!
+quick! He came! It was twilight! He was at
+the cabinet there. I stole out of the darkness. I
+flung my arms around him. He struggled. Ah,
+how he struggled; but it was all no use. Ha! ha!
+ha! I was too strong for him. I held him tighter
+and tighter, till I nearly strangled him, and he
+gasped and gurgled and moaned. Oh! it was fine
+to see him. Then I found a cord in the drawer
+there and I bound him, and while I fastened the
+knots I laughed and I talked to him. I talked
+about that night in the storm when he threw his
+father&rdquo;&mdash;he pointed a long, quivering finger at me&mdash;&ldquo;threw
+him into the slate quarry, and about
+that day when he came to the Castle gate and
+brought me to the plantation, and suddenly caught
+me by the throat till he thought he had strangled
+me, and beat me on the head. Ah, how my head
+has burned ever since, ever since, ever since! Ah,
+Milly, come to me! Milly, I am on fire! My head
+is on fire! Ah, ah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The foam burst out from between his pallid,
+quivering lips, and his eyes, red and burning, suddenly
+closed. A ghastly change crept over his
+blood-stained, pallid face. He sank backwards
+and fell heavily upon the floor.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_307">[307]</div>
+<p>We scarcely noticed him, for our eyes were bent
+elsewhere. The horror of that sight lived with
+me afterwards for many years, a haunting shadow
+over my life&mdash;disturbing even its sweetest moments,
+a hideous, maddening memory. I am not going
+to attempt to describe it. No words could express
+the horror of it. Such things are not to be written
+about.</p>
+<p>Even my father&rsquo;s iron nerve seemed to give
+way for a moment, and he stood by my side trembling,
+with his head buried in his hands. Then
+he sank on his knees and loosened the cords.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God he is dead,&rdquo; he murmured fervently,
+as he felt the cold body and lifeless pulse,
+and cleared away the last fragments of disguise
+from the head and face. &ldquo;You had better
+call Mr. Carrol in, Philip.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even as he spoke, a little awed group was silently
+filling the room, Carrol and his sergeant amongst
+them. But after all they were cheated of their
+task, for out in the moonlight John Francis lay
+stark, the madness gone from his white, still face,
+and the calm of death reigning there instead.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_308">[308]</div>
+<h2 id="c56">CHAPTER LVI.
+<br /><span class="small">THE END OF IT.</span></h2>
+<p>We were together, my father and I, under the
+shade of a little cluster of olive trees high up
+among the mountains. Far away below us the
+Campagna stretched to the foot of the dim hills
+steeped in blue which surround the Eternal City,
+towards which we had been gazing in a silence
+which had been for long unbroken. It was I at
+last who spoke, pointing downwards to where the
+bare grey stone walls of a small monastic building
+rose with almost startling abruptness from a narrow
+ledge of sward overhanging the precipice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is this to be the end, then, father?&rdquo; I cried
+bitterly; &ldquo;this prison-house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned towards me with a look upon his
+face which I had grown to hate&mdash;a look calm and
+gentle enough, but full of resolution as unchanging
+as the mountains which towered above us.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must be so, Philip,&rdquo; he said, quietly. &ldquo;Is
+it well, think you, that I should return again into
+the life which I am weary of, when all that I desire
+lies here ready to my hand? Peace and rest&mdash;I
+want nothing more.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_309">[309]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;And why cannot you find them in England&mdash;at
+Ravenor with me?&rdquo; I cried eagerly. &ldquo;And
+your work, too&mdash;it could be done again. We
+would live alone there and bury ourselves
+from the world and everyone in it. I could help
+you. I could be your amanuensis. I should
+like that better than anything. Remember how
+all the papers lamented the cruel destruction of
+your manuscripts, and how everyone hoped that
+you would rewrite them. Oh, you must not do
+this thing, father&mdash;you must not! You have no
+right to cut yourself off from the world&mdash;no right!&rdquo;
+I re-echoed passionately.</p>
+<p>He shook his head slowly, but alas! with no
+sign of yielding.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Philip,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;it troubles me to
+hear you plead like this in vain, for so it must
+ever be. I am happy now; happy in the recollection
+of the time we have spent together. Happy,
+too, in the thought that I can end my days in
+peace, with no disturbing ghosts of the past to
+rise up and haunt me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was silent and kept my face turned away
+towards the mountains, for I would not have had
+him see my weakness. Soon he spoke again,
+and this time there was a vein of sadness in
+his tone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The time has come for us to part for awhile,
+Philip. There is one thing more which I would
+say to you. It concerns Cecil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cecil?&rdquo; I echoed vaguely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All his life he has been brought up to consider
+himself my heir. Now, of course, things will be
+very different with him. He is weak and easily
+led. I should like to think that you were friends;
+and if you have an opportunity of helping him
+in any way you will not neglect it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not,&rdquo; I promised. &ldquo;Cecil and I will
+always be friends.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_310">[310]</div>
+<p>We descended the steep hillside path and stood
+together almost on the threshold of the little
+monastery. Then my father held out his hand
+to me, and a soft, sweet light shone for a moment
+in his dark blue eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell, Philip,&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;farewell. God
+bless you.&rdquo; And while I was returning the grasp
+of his closed fingers and struggling to keep down
+a rising lump in my throat, he passed away from
+me silently, like a figure in a dream, and the thick,
+nail-studded door opened and was closed behind
+him.</p>
+<p>Then I set my face towards Rome, with blurred
+eyesight and a bitter sense of loss at my heart.
+I was going back to England to take possession
+of a great inheritance, but there was no joy in the
+thought, only an unutterable, intolerable loneliness
+which weighed down my heart and spirits
+and filled me with deep depression.</p>
+<p>Cecil met me in London, and we went to
+Ravenor together. It was a strange sensation
+to me to enter the Castle as its virtual owner, to
+wander from room to room, from gallery to
+gallery, and know that it was all mine, and that
+the long line of Ravenors who frowned and smiled
+upon me from their dark, worm-eaten frames
+were my ancestors. At first it seemed pleasant&mdash;pleasant,
+at least, in a measure,&mdash;but when I
+stood in the library and passed on into that little
+chamber the memories connected with them swept
+in upon me with such irresistible force that I was
+glad to send Cecil away for a while.</p>
+<p>For some time I lived quite alone, save for Cecil&rsquo;s
+frequent visits, keeping aloof from the people
+who lived near, and making but few acquaintances.
+The days I spent either on horseback or
+with my gun, or often tramping many miles over
+the open country with a book in my pocket, after
+the fashion of the days of my boyhood. The
+nights I had no difficulty about whatever. With
+such a library as my father&rsquo;s to help me, my love
+of reading became almost a part of myself.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_311">[311]</div>
+<p>There was one person who viewed this change
+with profound dissatisfaction, and who at last
+broke into open protest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Phil, you know it won&rsquo;t do,&rdquo; Cecil declared
+one night, when I had tried to steal away
+into the library on some pretext. &ldquo;A young
+fellow of your age, with eighty thousand a year,
+has no business to shut himself up with a lot of
+musty books and dream away his time like an
+old hermit. People are asking about you everywhere,
+and I&rsquo;m getting tired of explaining what a
+rum sort of chap you are. It won&rsquo;t do, really.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;what do you want me
+to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want you to come back to town with me
+and put up with my people a bit. The mater is
+very keen about it; in fact, she says that she shall
+come down here in the autumn if you don&rsquo;t come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I leaned back in my chair and a day-dream
+rose up before me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is your sister like now, Cis?&rdquo; I asked
+suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Trixie! Oh, she&rsquo;s turned out pretty well, I
+think!&rdquo; he answered complacently. &ldquo;What friends
+you two used to be, by the by!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We said no more about the matter then, but on
+the following morning I received two letters, one
+from Lady Silchester and the other from Lord
+Langerdale, both urging me to pay at least a short
+visit to London and perform social duties, which
+naturally seemed of more importance to them
+than to me. I read them through carefully and
+made up my mind at once. But Lord Langerdale&rsquo;s
+letter had stirred up some old memories, and I
+did not tell Cecil my decision immediately.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_312">[312]</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You are about town a good deal, Cecil. Do
+you ever see anything of Leonard de Cartienne?&rdquo;
+I asked.</p>
+<p>Cecil shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, nor am I ever likely to,&rdquo; he answered.
+&ldquo;I have heard of him, though, by a strange fluke.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Got a commission in the Turkish army.
+Queer thing I heard the other day from a man
+I used to know very well once. He&rsquo;s secretary
+at the Embassy now at Constantinople, and he
+asked me whether I ever came across him. Seems
+he isn&rsquo;t particularly popular out there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a bad lot,&rdquo; I remarked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jolly sure of it,&rdquo; Cecil assented. &ldquo;No one
+but a blackguard would have behaved as he did
+to poor little Milly. But about London, Phil?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;If you like we will leave
+here to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lady Silchester received us very kindly, and
+Beatrice, though full of the distractions of her
+first season, seemed even better pleased to see us.
+It was strange how much I found in the tall slim
+girl, whom everyone was quoting as the beauty
+of the season, to remind me of the quaint, old-fashioned
+child whose imperious manner and na&iuml;ve
+talk had so charmed me a few years ago. There
+were the same wealth of ruddy golden hair, the
+same delicate features, and the same dainty little
+mannerisms. Everyone admired Lady Beatrice, and
+so did I.</p>
+<p>My stay in London lasted till the end of the
+season. I made my orthodox <i>d&eacute;but</i> into Society
+under the wing of Lord Langerdale, and divided
+my time pretty well between my aunt and uncle
+and the house in Cadogan Square. When at last
+it was all over, Lord and Lady Langerdale, Lady
+Silchester, Cecil, and Beatrice returned to Ravenor
+as my guests.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_313">[313]</div>
+<p>I am not writing a love story. I cannot trace
+the growth of my love for Beatrice, for it seemed
+to come upon me with a rush; and yet, when I
+wondered how it came, it seemed to me that it
+must have been always so. Those long summer
+days at Ravenor were the sweetest I had ever
+known. I lost all count of time. Hours and
+days and weeks seemed all blended in an exquisite
+dream, from which, unlike all others, the awakening
+was at once the culmination and the happiest
+part. For one night we came back hand in hand
+from wandering about on the terraces under a
+starlit sky, and a great joy was gliding through
+my veins and throbbing in my heart.</p>
+<p>Need I say what had happened? Beatrice
+was mine, my own, and I was very happy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come to me when you are married&mdash;both of
+you,&rdquo; was my father&rsquo;s message; and we went,
+Alas, for the cloud which so soon dimmed our newborn
+happiness! We arrived in time&mdash;only just
+in time&mdash;to stand by his death-bed.</p>
+<p>How the scene comes back to me! The door
+and windows of his little chamber were thrown
+wide open and the soft, languorous breeze, heavy
+with the odour of wild flowers, stole in and played
+upon his wasted face.</p>
+<p>What a countenance it was! Passion-scarred,
+yet chastened and softened by keen physical
+pain; the burning blue eyes fixed steadily, yet
+with a sweet, steadfast light, upon the dim horizon&mdash;beautiful
+after the highest type of spiritual
+beauty. Twilight stole down from the hills, and
+then we gently folded his arms upon his breast,
+and the watchers outside, knowing well what such
+an action meant, wiped the tears from their eyes
+and slowly wended their way homewards.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_314">[314]</div>
+<p>Then, later, the solemn chant of the monks
+in pious procession broke the stillness of the
+mountain night. But such a death was scarcely
+death. At least, it was death robbed of all its
+terrors; unutterably sad, yet unutterably sweet.
+There was truth beyond expression in the simple
+words rudely carved upon the wooden cross which,
+amid a score or two of others in a sheltered
+nook down in the valley, stands at the foot of his
+narrow grave&mdash;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">&ldquo;He Sought Peace, and Found It.&rdquo;</span></p>
+<p>So may it be with us!</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>Transcriber&rsquo;s Note</h2>
+<ul><li>Obvious typographical errors in spelling and punctuation were
+corrected without comment.</li>
+<li>Capitalization of the name &rdquo;de Cartienne&rdquo; was made consistent.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Marx's Secret, by E. Phillips Oppenheim,
+Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+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: Mr. Marx's Secret
+
+
+Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 29, 2012  [eBook #39018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. MARX'S SECRET***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 39018-h.htm or 39018-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39018/39018-h/39018-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39018/39018-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. MARX'S SECRET
+
+by
+
+E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
+
+Author of "Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo," "The Double Traitor,"
+"The Illustrious Prince," etc.
+
+With frontispiece by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Boston
+Little, Brown, and Company
+1916
+
+Published, January, 1916
+Reprinted, January, 1916 (twice)
+February, 1916
+
+Printers
+S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                             PAGE
+  I.--News from the Pacific                                             11
+  II.--Mr. Francis                                                      15
+  III.--The Murder at the Slate-Pits                                    18
+  IV.--My Mother's Warning                                              23
+  V.--Ravenor of Ravenor                                                27
+  VI.--A Doubtful Visitor                                               39
+  VII.--A Meeting and a Metamorphosis                                   43
+  VIII.--An Abode of Mystery                                            49
+  IX.--Mr. Marx                                                         58
+  X.--Lady Silchester                                                   65
+  XI.--The Cry in the Avenue                                            70
+  XII.--A Dark Corner in the Avenue                                     76
+  XIII.--The Cloud Between Us                                           81
+  XIV.--A Meeting in the Coffee-Room                                    85
+  XV.--A Tete-a-tete Dinner                                             89
+  XVI.--Miss Mabel Fay                                                  93
+  XVII.--Behind the Scenes at the Torchester Theatre                    98
+  XVIII.--At Midnight on the Moor                                      103
+  XIX.--A Strange Attack                                               111
+  XX.--The Monastery Among the Hills                                   115
+  XXI.--A Message from the Dead                                        124
+  XXII.--For Life                                                      127
+  XXIII.--My Guardian                                                  135
+  XXIV.--My First Dinner Party                                         138
+  XXV.--Mr. Marx's Warning                                             144
+  XXVI.--A Lost Photograph                                             148
+  XXVII.--Leonard de Cartienne                                         157
+  XXVIII.--"As Rome Does"                                              164
+  XXIX.--A Dinner Party Sub-rosa                                       169
+  XXX.--Ecarte with Mr. Fothergill                                     174
+  XXXI.--A Startling Discovery                                         182
+  XXXII.--Forestalled                                                  190
+  XXXIII.--A Gleam of Light                                            195
+  XXXIV.--Dr. Schofield's Opinion                                      199
+  XXXV.--An Invitation                                                 204
+  XXXVI.--A Metamorphosis                                              209
+  XXXVII.--Mr. Marx is Wanted                                          218
+  XXXVIII.--I Accept a Mission                                         223
+  XXXIX.--My Ride                                                      225
+  XL.--My Mission                                                      229
+  XLI.--The Count de Cartienne                                         232
+  XLII.--News of Mr. Marx                                              240
+  XLIII.--About Town                                                   246
+  XLIV.--A Midnight Excursion to the Suburbs                           252
+  XLV.--A Mysterious Commission                                        258
+  XLVI.--A Brush with the Police                                       261
+  XLVII.--Light at Last                                                264
+  XLVIII.--A Page of History                                           269
+  XLIX.--I will Go Alone                                               278
+  L.--I Meet my Father                                                 280
+  LI.--Dawn                                                            284
+  LII.--Where is Mr. Marx?                                             287
+  LIII.--Messrs. Higgenson and Co.                                     293
+  LIV.--A Raid                                                         299
+  LV.--The Mystery of Mr. Marx                                         304
+  LVI.--The End of It                                                  308
+
+
+
+
+                            MR. MARX'S SECRET
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+                         NEWS FROM THE PACIFIC.
+
+
+My home was a quaint, three-storeyed, ivy-clad farmhouse in a Midland
+county. It lay in a hollow, nestled close up against Rothland Wood, the
+dark, close-growing trees of which formed a picturesque background to the
+worn greystone whereof it was fashioned.
+
+In front, just across the road, was the boundary-wall of Ravenor Park,
+with its black fir spinneys, huge masses of lichen-covered rock, clear
+fish-ponds, and breezy hills, from the summits of which were visible the
+sombre grey towers of Ravenor Castle, standing out with grim, rugged
+boldness against the sky.
+
+Forbidden ground though it was, there was not a yard of the park up to
+the inner boundary fence which I did not know; not a spinney where I had
+not searched for birds' nests or raided in quest of the first primrose;
+not a hill on which I had not spent some part of a summer afternoon.
+
+I was a trespasser, of course; but I was the son of Farmer Morton, an old
+tenant on the estate, and much in favour with the keepers, by reason of a
+famous brew which he was ever ready to offer a thirsty man, or to drink
+himself. So "Morton's young 'un" was unmolested; and, save for an
+occasional good-humoured warning from Crooks, the head-gamekeeper, during
+breeding-time, I had the run of the place.
+
+Moreover, the great estates of which Ravenor Park was the centre knew at
+that time no other master than a lawyer of non-sporting proclivities, so
+the preserves were only looked after as a matter of form.
+
+I was eight years old, and an unusually hot summer was at its height. It
+was past midday, and I had just come out from the house, with the
+intention of settling down for an afternoon's reading in a shady corner
+of the orchard. I had reached the stack-yard gate when I stopped short,
+my hand upon the fastening.
+
+A most unusual sound was floating across the meadows, through the
+breathless air. The church-bells of Rothland, the village on the other
+side of the wood, had suddenly burst out into a wild, clashing peal of
+joy.
+
+In a country district everybody knows everyone else's business; and,
+child though I was, I knew that no marriage was taking place anywhere
+near.
+
+I stood listening in wonderment, for I had never heard such a thing
+before; and, while I was lingering, the bells from Annerley, a village a
+little farther away, and the grand, mellow-sounding chimes from the
+chapel at Ravenor Castle, breaking the silence of many years, took up the
+peal, and the lazy summer day seemed all of a sudden to wake up into a
+state of unaccountable delight.
+
+I ran back towards the house and met my mother standing in the cool stone
+porch. The men about the farm were all grouped together, wondering. No
+one had the least idea of what had happened.
+
+And then Jim Harrison, the waggoner, who had just come in from the home
+meadow, called out quickly, pointing with his finger; and far away, along
+the white, dusty road, we could see the figure of a man on horseback
+riding towards us at a furious gallop.
+
+"It be the master!" he cried, excitedly. "It be the master, for sure!
+There bean't no mistaking Brown Bess's gallop. Lord-a-mercy! how 'e be
+a-riding her!"
+
+We all trooped out on to the road to meet my father, eager to hear the
+news. In a few moments he reached us, and brought Brown Bess to a
+standstill, bathed in sweat and dust, and quivering in every limb.
+
+"Hurrah, lads!" he shouted, waving his whip above his head. "Hurrah!
+There never was such a bit o' news as I've got for you! All Mellborough
+be gone crazy about it!"
+
+"What is it, George? Why don't you tell us?" my mother asked quickly.
+And, to my surprise, her hand, in which mine was resting, was as cold as
+ice, notwithstanding the August heat.
+
+He raised himself in his stirrups and shouted so that all might hear:
+
+"Squire Ravenor be come to life again! They 'a' found him on an island in
+the Pacific, close against the coral reef where his yacht went down six
+years ago! He's on his way home again, lads. Think of that! Sal, lass,
+bring us up a gallon of ale and another after it. We'll drink to his
+homecoming, lads!"
+
+There was a burst of applause and many exclamations of wonder. My
+mother's hand had moved, as though unconsciously, to my shoulder, and she
+was leaning heavily upon me.
+
+"Where did you hear this, George?" she asked, in a subdued tone.
+
+"Why, it be in all the London papers this morning," he answered, taking
+off his hat and wiping his forehead. "The steamer that's bringing him
+home 'a' sent a message from some foreign port, and Lawyer Cox he's got
+one, and it's all written up large on the walls of the Corn Exchange. I
+reckon it'll make those deuced lawyers sit up!" chuckled my father, as he
+slowly dismounted.
+
+"Lord-a-mercy! Only to think on it! Six year on a little bit o' an
+island, and not a living soul to speak a word to! And now he's on his way
+home again. It beats all story-telling I ever heerd on. Why, Alice, lass,
+it 'a' quite upset you," he added, looking anxiously at my mother.
+"You're all white and scared-like. Dost feel badly?"
+
+She was standing with her back to us and when she turned round it seemed
+to me that a change had crept into her face.
+
+"It is the heat and excitement," she said quietly. "This is strange news.
+I think that I will go in and rest."
+
+"All right, lass! Get thee indoors and lie down for a bit. Now, then,
+lads. Hurrah for the squire and long life to him! Pour it out, Jim--pour
+it out! Don't be afraid on it. Such news as this don't coom every day."
+
+And, with the vision of my stalwart yeoman father, the centre of a little
+group of farm-labourers, holding his foaming glass high above his head,
+and his honest face ruddy with heat and excitement, my memories of this
+scene grow dim and fade away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+                              MR. FRANCIS.
+
+
+I was alone with my father in the kitchen, and he was looking as I had
+never seen him look before. It was late in the afternoon--as near as I
+can remember, about six weeks after the news had reached us of Mr.
+Ravenor's wonderful adventures. He had just come in for tea, flushed with
+toil and labouring in the hot sun. But as he stood on the flags before
+me, reading a letter which had been sent up from the village, the glow
+seemed to die out from his face and his strong, rough hands trembled.
+
+"It's a lie!" I heard him mutter to himself, in a hoarse whisper--"a
+wicked lie!"
+
+Then he sank back in one of the high-backed chairs and I watched him,
+frightened.
+
+"Philip, lad," he said to me, speaking slowly, and yet with a certain
+eagerness in his tone, "has your mother had any visitors lately whilst I
+'a' been out on the farm?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"No one, except Mr. Francis," I added doubtfully.
+
+He groaned and hid his face for a moment.
+
+"How often has he been here?" he asked, after a while. "When did he come
+first? Dost remember?"
+
+"Yes," I answered promptly, "It was on the day Tom Foulds fell from the
+oat-stack and broke his leg. There was another gentleman with him then. I
+saw them looking in at the orchard gate, so I asked them if they wanted
+anything, and the strange gentleman said that he was thirsty and would
+like some milk, so I took him into the dairy; and I think that mother
+must have known him before, for she seemed so surprised to see him.
+
+"He gave me half a crown, too," I went on, "to run away and watch for a
+friend of his. But the friend never came, although I waited ever so long.
+He's been often since; but I don't like him and----"
+
+I broke off in sudden dismay. Had not my mother forbidden my mentioning
+these visits to anyone? What had I done? I began to cry silently.
+
+My father rose from his chair and leaned against the oaken chimney-piece,
+with his back turned towards me.
+
+"It's he, sure enough!" he gasped. "Heaven forgive her! But him--him----"
+
+His voice seemed choked with passion and he did not finish his sentence.
+I knew that I had done wrong, and a vague apprehension of threatening
+evil stole swiftly upon me. But I sat still and waited.
+
+It was long before my father turned round and spoke again. When he did so
+I scarcely knew him, for there were deep lines across his forehead, and
+all the healthy, sunburnt tan seemed to have gone from his face. He
+looked ten years older and I trembled when he spoke.
+
+"Listen, Philip, lad!" he said gravely. "Your mother thinks I be gone
+straight away to Farmer Woods to see about the colt, don't she?"
+
+I nodded silently. We had not expected him home again until late in the
+evening.
+
+"Now, look you here, Philip," he continued. "She's gone to bed wi' a
+headache, you say? Very well. Just you promise me that you won't go near
+her."
+
+I promised readily enough. Then he bade me get my tea and he sank back
+again into his chair. Once I asked him timidly if he were not going to
+have some, but he took no notice. When I had finished he led me softly
+upstairs and locked me in my room. Never to this day have I forgotten
+that dull look of hopeless agony in his face as he turned away and left
+me.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+                     THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.
+
+
+It was late on this same evening. All day long the thunder had been
+rumbling and growling, and now the storm seemed close at hand.
+
+I had partly undressed, but it was too hot to get into bed, so I leaned
+out of my wide-open window, watching the black clouds hanging down from
+the sky, and listening to the rustling of leaves in the wood--sure sign
+of the coming storm.
+
+The air was stifling; and, longing feverishly for the rain, I sat in the
+deep window-sill and looked out into the scented darkness, for
+honeysuckle and clematis drooped around my window and the garden below
+was overgrown with homely, sweet-smelling flowers.
+
+Suddenly I started. I was quick at hearing, and I had distinctly caught
+the sound of a light, firm step passing down the garden path beneath. My
+first impulse was to call out, but I checked it when I recognised the
+tall, graceful figure moving swiftly along the gravel walk in the shade
+of the yew-hedge. It was my mother!
+
+I watched her, scarcely believing my eyes. What could she be wanting in
+the garden at this hour? And while I sat on the window casement,
+wondering, a cold shiver of alarm chilled me, for I saw a man creep
+stealthily out from the wood and hurry across the little stretch of
+meadow towards the garden gate, where she was standing.
+
+The moon was shining with a sickly light through a thick halo of mist and
+I could only just distinguish the figures of my mother and this man, side
+by side, talking earnestly. I watched them with riveted eyes until I
+heard a quick step on the floor behind me and a hand was laid upon my
+mouth, stifling my cry of surprise.
+
+"It's only me, Philip, lad," whispered a hoarse, tremulous voice. "I
+didn't want you to call out--that's all. Hast seen anything of this
+before?" And he pointed, with shaking finger, towards the window, from
+which he had drawn me back a little.
+
+I looked at him, a great horror stealing over me. His ruddy face was
+blanched and drawn, as though with pain; and there was a terrible light
+in his eyes. I was frightened and half inclined to cry.
+
+"No," I faltered. "It's only Mr. Francis, isn't it?"
+
+"Only Mr. Francis!" I heard my father repeat, with a groan. "Oh, Alice,
+lass--Alice! How could you?"
+
+He staggered blindly towards the door. I rushed after him, piteously
+calling him back, but he pushed me off roughly and hurried out.
+
+I heard him leave the house, but he did not go down the garden. Then, in
+a few minutes, every one of which seemed to me like an hour, the low
+voices at the gate ceased and my mother came slowly up the path towards
+the house.
+
+I rushed downstairs and met her in the hall. She seemed half surprised,
+half angry, to see me.
+
+"Philip," she exclaimed, "I thought you were in bed long ago! What are
+you doing here?"
+
+"I am frightened!" I sobbed out. "Father has been in my room watching you
+at the gate and he talked so strangely. He is very angry and he looks as
+though he were going to hurt someone."
+
+My mother leaned against the wall, every vestige of colour gone from her
+face, and her hand pressed to her side. She understood better than I did
+then.
+
+"Where is he now?" she asked hysterically. "Quick, Philip--quick! Tell
+me!"
+
+"He is gone," I answered. "He went out by the front door and up the
+road."
+
+A sudden calmness seemed to come to her and she stood for a moment
+thinking aloud.
+
+"He has gone up to the wood gate! They will meet in the wood. Oh, Heaven,
+prevent it!" she cried passionately.
+
+She turned and rushed into the garden, down the path and through the
+wicket gate towards the wood. I followed her, afraid to stay alone. A
+vast mass of inky-black clouds had sailed in front of the moon and the
+darkness, especially in the wood, was intense.
+
+More than once I fell headlong down, scratching my face and hands with
+the brambles; but each time I was on my feet immediately, scarcely
+conscious of the pain in my wild desire to keep near my mother.
+
+How she found her way I cannot tell. Great pieces of her dress were torn
+off and remained hanging to the bushes into which she stepped; and many
+times I saw her run against a tree and recoil half stunned by the shock.
+
+But still we made progress, and at last we came to a part of the wood
+where the trees and undergrowth were less dense and there was a steep
+ascent. Up it we ran and when we reached the top my mother paused to
+listen, while I stood, breathless, by her side.
+
+Save that the leaves above us were stirring with a curious motion, there
+was not a sound in the whole wood. Birds and animals, even insects,
+seemed to have crept away to their holes before the coming storm. We
+could see nothing, for a thick mantle of darkness--a darkness which could
+almost be felt--had fallen upon the earth. We stood crouched together,
+trembling and fearful.
+
+"Thank Heaven for the darkness!" my mother murmured to herself. "Philip,"
+she went on, stooping down and feeling for my hand, "do you know where we
+are? We should be close to the slate-pits."
+
+I was on the point of answering her, but the words died away on my parted
+lips. Such a sight as was revealed to us at that moment might have driven
+a strong man mad.
+
+Although half a lifetime has passed away, I can see it now as at that
+moment. But describe it I cannot, for no words of mine could paint the
+thrilling beauty and, at the same time, the breathless horror of the
+scene which opened like a flash before us.
+
+Trees, sky, and space were suddenly bathed in a brilliant, lurid light,
+the like of which I have never since seen, nor ever shall again. It came
+and went in a space of time which only thought could measure; and this is
+what it showed us:--
+
+Yawning at our feet the deep pit and sullen waters of the quarry, for we
+were scarcely a single step from the precipitous edge; the huge piles of
+slate and the sheds with the workmen's tools scattered around; and my
+father, his arms thrown upwards in agony, and a wild cry bursting from
+his lips, at the very moment that he was hurled over the opposite side of
+the chasm!
+
+We saw the frantic convulsions of despair upon his ashen face, his eyes
+starting from their sockets, as he felt himself falling into space; and
+we saw the dim outline of another man staggering back from the brink,
+with his hands outstretched before his face, in horror at what he had
+done.
+
+Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fierce glare vanished. The
+heavens--only a moment before open and flooding the land with sheets of
+living fire--were black and impenetrable, and the crashing thunder shook
+the air around and made the earth tremble, as though it were splitting up
+and the very elements were being dissolved.
+
+With a cry, the heartrending anguish of which will ring for ever in my
+ears, my mother sank down, a white, scared heap; and I, my limbs unstrung
+and my senses numbed, crouched helpless beside her. Then the rain fell
+and there was silence.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+                          MY MOTHER'S WARNING.
+
+
+For many weeks after that terrible night in Rothland Wood, I lay
+wrestling with a fierce fever, my recovery from which was deemed little
+short of miraculous. A sound constitution, however, and careful nursing
+brought me round, and I opened my eyes one sunny morning upon what seemed
+to me almost a new world.
+
+The first thing that I can clearly remember after my return to
+consciousness was the extraordinary change which had taken place in my
+mother. From a beautiful, active woman, she seemed to have become
+transformed into a stern, cold statue.
+
+Even now I can recall how frightened I was of her during those first days
+of convalescence, and how I shrank from her constant presence by my
+bedside with a nameless dread.
+
+The change was in her appearance as well as in her manner. Her rich brown
+hair had turned completely grey, and there was a frigid, set look in her
+face, denuded of all expression or affection, which chilled me every time
+I looked into it. It was the face--not of my mother, but of a stranger.
+
+As I began to regain strength and the doctors pronounced me fit to leave
+the sick-room, she began to display signs of uneasiness, and often looked
+at me in a singular kind of way, as though there were something which she
+would say to me.
+
+And one night I woke up suddenly, to find her standing by my bedside,
+wrapped in a long dressing-gown, her grey hair streaming down her back
+and a wild gleam in her burning eyes. I started up in bed with a cry of
+fear, but she held out her hand with a gesture which she intended to be
+reassuring.
+
+"Nothing is the matter, Philip," she said. "Lie down, but listen."
+
+I obeyed, and had she noticed me closely she would have seen that I was
+shivering; for her strange appearance and the total lack of affection in
+her manner, had filled me with something approaching to horror.
+
+"Philip, you will soon be well enough to go out," she continued. "People
+will ask you questions about that night."
+
+It was the first time the subject had been broached between us. I raised
+myself a little in the bed and gazed at her, with blanched cheeks and
+fascinated eyes.
+
+"Listen, Philip! You must remember nothing. Do you understand me?"
+
+"Yes," I answered faintly.
+
+"You must forget that you saw me in the garden; you must forget
+everything your father said to you. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes," I repeated. "But--but, mother----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Will he be caught--the man who killed father?" I asked timidly. "Oh, I
+hope he will!"
+
+Her lips parted slowly, and she laughed--a bitter, hysterical laugh,
+which seemed to me the most awful sound I had ever heard.
+
+"Hope! Yes; you may hope--hope if you will!" she cried; "but remember
+this, boy: If your hope comes true, it will be an evil day for you and
+for me! Remember!"
+
+Then she turned and walked to the door without another word. I sat in bed
+and watched her piteously, with a great lump in my throat and a sore
+heart. The moonlight was pouring in through my latticed window, falling
+full upon the long, graceful lines of her stately figure and her hard,
+cold face. I was forlorn and unhappy, but to look at her froze the words
+upon my lips.
+
+Merciless and cruel her features seemed to me. There was no pity, no
+love, not a shadow of response to my half-formed, appealing gesture. I
+let her go and sank back upon my pillows, weeping bitterly, with a deep
+sense of utter loneliness and desolation.
+
+On the following day I was allowed to leave my room and very soon I was
+able to get about. As my mother had anticipated, many people asked me
+questions concerning the events of that hideous night. To one and all my
+answer was the same. I remembered nothing. My illness had left my memory
+a blank.
+
+Long afterwards I saw more clearly how well it was that I had obeyed my
+mother's bidding.
+
+A brief extract from a county newspaper will be sufficient to show what
+the universal opinion was concerning my father's murder. I copy it here:
+
+"In another column will be found an account of the inquest on the body of
+George Morton, farmer, late of Rothland Wood Farm. The verdict returned
+by the jury--namely, 'Wilful murder against John Francis'--was, in the
+face of the evidence, the only possible one; and everyone must unite in
+hoping that the efforts of the police will be successful, and that the
+criminal will not be allowed to escape. The facts are simple and
+conclusive.
+
+"It appears from the evidence of Mr. Bullson, landlord of the George
+Hotel, Mellborough, and of several other _habitues_ of the place, that
+only a few days before the deed was committed, there was a violent
+dispute between deceased and Francis and that threats were freely used on
+both sides. On the night in question Francis started from Rothland
+village shortly after nine o'clock, with the intention of making his way
+through the wood to Ravenor Castle. Owing, no doubt, to the extraordinary
+darkness of the night, he appears to have lost his way, and to have been
+directed by Mrs. Morton, who noticed him wandering about near her garden
+gate.
+
+"Mrs. Morton declines to swear to his identity, owing in the darkness;
+but this, in the face of other circumstances, must count for little in
+his favour. He was also seen by the deceased, who, enraged at finding him
+on his land and addressing his wife, started in pursuit, followed by Mrs.
+Morton and her little boy, who arrived at the slate-pits in time to
+witness, but too late to prevent, the awful tragedy which we fully
+reported a few days since.
+
+"In face of the flight of the man Francis, and the known fact that he was
+in the wood that night, there is little room for doubt as to his being
+the actual perpetrator of the deed, although the details of the struggle
+must remain, for the present, shrouded in mystery. Mr. Ravenor, who has
+just arrived in England, has offered a reward of L500 for information
+leading to the arrest of Francis, who was a servant at the Castle."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+                          RAVENOR OF RAVENOR.
+
+
+It was generally expected that my mother would be anxious to depart as
+soon as possible from a neighbourhood which had such terrible
+associations for her. As a matter of fact, she showed no intention of
+doing anything of the sort. At the time I rather wondered at this, but I
+am able now to divine her reason.
+
+It chanced that the farm, of which my father had been tenant for nearly a
+quarter of a century, was taken by a neighbour who had no use for the
+house, and so it was arranged that we should stay on at a merely nominal
+rent. Then began a chapter of my life without event, which I can pass
+rapidly over.
+
+Every morning I walked over to Rothland and received two hours'
+instruction from the curate, and in the afternoon my mother taught me
+modern languages. The rest of the day I spent alone, wandering
+whithersoever I pleased, staying away as long as I chose, and returning
+when I felt inclined. The results of such a life at my age soon developed
+themselves. I became something of a misanthrope, a great reader, and a
+passionate lover of Nature. At any rate, it was healthy, and my taste for
+all sorts of outdoor sport prevented my becoming a bookworm.
+
+It had its influence, too, upon my disposition. It strengthened and gave
+colour to my imagination, expanded my mind, and filled me with a strong
+love for everything that was vigorous and fresh and pure in the books I
+read.
+
+Shakespeare and Goethe were my first favourites in literature; but as I
+grew older the fascination of lyric poetry obtained a hold upon me, and
+Shelley and Keats, for a time, reigned supreme in my fancy. But my tastes
+were catholic. I read everything that came in my way, and was blessed
+with a wonderful memory, which enabled me to retain much that was worth
+retaining.
+
+Meanwhile, the more purely technical part of my education was being
+steadily persevered in; and so I was not surprised, although it was
+rather a blow to me, when the clergyman who had been my tutor walked home
+with me through the wood one summer evening, and told my mother that it
+was useless my going to him any longer, for I already knew all that he
+could teach me.
+
+I watched her covertly, hoping that she would show some sign of
+gratification at what I felt to be a high compliment. But she simply
+remarked that, if such was the case, she supposed the present arrangement
+had better terminate, thanked him for the trouble he had taken with me,
+and dismissed the matter. I scanned her cold, beautiful face in vain for
+any signs of interest. The cloud which had fallen between us on the night
+of my father's murder had never been lifted.
+
+The curate stayed to tea with us, and afterwards I walked back through
+the woods with him, for he was a sociable fellow, fond of company--even
+mine.
+
+When I reached home again I found my mother looking out for me, and I
+knew from her manner that she had something important to say to me.
+
+"Philip, I have heard to-day that Mr. Ravenor is expected home," she said
+slowly.
+
+I started and a little exclamation of pleasure escaped me. There was no
+man whom I longed so much to see. What a reputation was his! A scholar of
+European fame, a poet, and a great sinner; a Croesus; at times a reckless
+Sybarite, at others an ascetic and a hermit; a student of Voltaire; the
+founder of a new school of philosophy. All these things I had heard of
+him at different times, but as yet I had never seen him. Something more
+than my curiosity had been excited and I looked forward now to its
+gratification.
+
+My mother took no note of my exclamation, but her brow darkened. We were
+standing together on the lawn in front of the house and she was in the
+shadow of a tall cypress tree.
+
+"I do not suppose that he will remain here long," she continued, in a
+hard, strained tone; "but while he is at the Castle it is my wish that
+you do not enter the park at all."
+
+"Not enter the park!" I repeated the words and stared at my mother in
+blank astonishment. What difference could Mr. Ravenor's presence make to
+us?
+
+"Surely you do not mean this?" I cried, bitterly disappointed. "Why, I
+have been looking forward for years to see Mr. Ravenor! He is a famous
+man!"
+
+"I know it," she interrupted, "and a very dangerous one. I do not wish
+you to meet him. The chances are that he would not notice you if he saw
+you, but it is better to run no risks. You will remember what I have
+said? A man of his strange views and principles is to be
+avoided--especially by an impressionable boy like you."
+
+She left me dumbfounded, crossed the lawn with smooth, even footsteps,
+and entered the house. I watched her disappear, disturbed and uneasy;
+Something in her manner had conveyed a strange impression to me. I could
+not help thinking she had other reasons than those she had given for
+wishing to keep Mr. Ravenor and me apart. It seemed on the face of it to
+be a very absurd notion, but it had laid hold of me and her subsequent
+conduct did not tend to dispel it.
+
+On the afternoon of his expected arrival I lingered about for hours in
+the orchard, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, for the gates of the park,
+opposite our house, were the nearest to Mellborough Station. But I was
+disappointed. He came, it is true, but in a closed brougham, drawn by a
+pair of swift, high-stepping bays, which swept like a flash by the hedge
+over which I was looking, leaving a confused recollection of glistening
+harness, handsome liveries, and a dark, noble face, partly turned towards
+me, but imperfectly seen. It was a glimpse which only increased my
+interest; yet how to gratify my curiosity in view of my mother's wishes I
+could not tell.
+
+That night she renewed her prohibition. She came to me in the little
+room, where I kept my books and Penates, and laid her hand upon my
+shoulder. Mr. Ravenor had returned, she said--how did she know, save that
+she, too, had been watching, for the flag was not yet hoisted?--and she
+hoped that I would remember what her wishes were.
+
+I promised that I would observe them, as far as I could, although they
+seemed to me ridiculous, and I did not hesitate to hint as much. What was
+more unlikely than that Mr. Ravenor, distinguished man of the world,
+should take the slightest notice of a country boy, much more attempt to
+gain any sort of influence over him? The more I thought of it and of my
+mother's nervous fears, the more I grew convinced, against my will, of
+some other motive which was to be kept secret from me.
+
+A week passed and very little was seen of Mr. Ravenor by anyone. As
+usual, many rumours were circulated and discussed. He was reported to
+have shut himself up in his library and to have refused admission to all
+visitors. He was living like an anchorite, fasting and working hard,
+surrounded by books and manuscripts all day and night, and far into the
+small hours of the morning. He was doing penance for recent excesses; he
+was preparing for some wild orgies; he was writing a novel, a
+philosophical pamphlet, an article for the reviews, or another volume of
+poems.
+
+Among all classes of our neighbours nothing else was talked about but the
+doings, or supposed doings, of Mr. Ravenor.
+
+One afternoon chance led me into the little room which my mother called
+her own, a room I seldom entered. There was a small volume lying on the
+table and carelessly I took it up and glanced at the title. Then, with a
+quick exclamation of pleasure, I carried it away with me. It was Mr.
+Ravenor's first little volume of poems, which I had tried in vain to get.
+The Mellborough bookseller of whom I had ordered it told me that it was
+out of print. The first edition had been exhausted long since and the
+author had refused to allow a second edition to be issued.
+
+I met my mother in the hall and held out the volume to her.
+
+"You never told me that you had a copy of Mr. Ravenor's poems," I said
+reproachfully. "I have just found it in your room."
+
+She started, and for a moment I feared that she was going to insist upon
+my giving up the book. She did not do so, however; but I noticed that the
+hand which was resting upon the banister was grasping the handrail
+nervously, as though for support, and that she was white to the very
+lips.
+
+"No; I had forgotten," she said slowly--"I mean that I had forgotten you
+had ever asked for it. Take care of it, Philip, and give it me back
+to-night. It was given to me by a friend and I value it."
+
+I promised and left the house. My range of pleasures was in some respects
+a limited one, but it did not prevent me from being an epicure with
+regard to their enjoyment. I did not glance inside the book, although I
+was longing to do so, until I had walked five or six miles and had
+reached one of my favourite halting-places. Then I threw myself down in
+the shadow of a great rock on the top of Beacon Hill and took the volume
+from my pocket.
+
+It was a small, olive-green book, delicately bound, and printed upon
+rough paper. It had been given to my mother, evidently, for her Christian
+name was inside, written in a fine, dashing hand, and underneath were
+some initials which had become indistinct. Then, having satisfied myself
+of this, and handled it for a few moments, I turned over the pages
+rapidly and began to read.
+
+The first part was composed almost entirely of sonnets and love-poems.
+One after another I read them and wondered. There was nothing amateurish,
+nothing weak, here. They were full of glowing imagery, of brilliant
+colouring, of passion, of fire. Crude some of them seemed to me, who had
+read no modern poetry and knew many of Shakespeare's and Milton's sonnets
+by heart; but full of genius, nevertheless, and with the breath of life
+warm in them.
+
+The second portion was devoted to longer poems and these I liked best.
+There was in some more than a touch of the graceful, fascinating
+mysticism of Shelley, the passionate outcry of a strong, noble mind,
+seeking to wrest from Nature her vast secrets and to fathom the mysteries
+of existence; the wail of bewildered nobility of soul turning in despair
+from the cold creeds of modern religion to seek some other and higher
+form of spiritual life.
+
+I read on until the sun had gone down and the shades of twilight had
+chased the afterglow from the western sky. Then I closed the book and
+rose suddenly with a great start.
+
+Scarcely a dozen yards away, on the extreme summit of the hill, a man on
+horseback sat watching me. His unusually tall figure and the fine shape
+of the coal-black horse which he was riding, stood out against the
+background of the distant sky with a vividness which seemed almost more
+than natural. Such a face as his I had never seen, never imagined. I
+could neither describe it, nor think of anything with which to compare
+it.
+
+Dark, with jet-black hair, and complexion perfectly clear, but tanned by
+Southern suns; a small, firm mouth; a high forehead, furrowed with
+thought; aquiline nose; grey-blue eyes, powerful and expressive--any man
+might thus be described, and yet lack altogether the wonderful charm of
+the face into which I looked. It was the rare combination of perfect
+classical modelling with intensity of character and nobility of
+intellect. It was the face of a king among men; and yet there were times
+when a certain smile played around those iron lips, and a certain light
+flashed in those brilliant eyes, when to look into it made me shudder.
+But that was afterwards.
+
+He remained looking at me and I at him, for fully a minute. Then he
+beckoned to me with his whip--a slight but imperious gesture. I rose and
+walked to his side.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked curtly.
+
+"My name is Philip Morton," I answered. "I live at Rothland Wood
+farmhouse."
+
+"Son of the man who was murdered?"
+
+I assented. He gazed at me fixedly, with the faintest possible expression
+of interest in his languid grey eyes.
+
+"You were very intent upon your book," he remarked. "What was it?"
+
+I held it up.
+
+"You should know it, sir," I answered.
+
+He glanced at the title and shrugged his shoulders slightly. There were
+indications of a frown upon his fine forehead.
+
+"You should be able to employ your time better than that," he said.
+
+"I don't think so. I am fond of reading--especially poetry," I replied.
+
+The idea seemed to amuse him, for he smiled, and the stem lines in his
+countenance relaxed for a moment. Directly his lips were parted his whole
+expression was transformed and I understood what women had meant when
+they talked about the fascination of his face.
+
+"Fond of reading, are you? A village bookworm. Well, they say that to
+book-lovers every volume has a language and a mission of its own. What do
+my schoolboy voices tell you?"
+
+"That you were once in love," I answered quickly.
+
+A half-amused, half-contemptuous shade passed across his face.
+
+"Youth has its follies, like every other stage of life," he said. "I
+daresay I experienced the luxury of the sensation once, but it must have
+been a long time ago. Come, is that all it tells you?"
+
+"It tells me that men lie when they call you an Atheist."
+
+He sat quite still on his horse and the smile on his lips became a
+mocking one.
+
+"Atheism was most unfashionable when those verses were written," he
+remarked. "Any other 'ism' was popular enough, but Atheism sounded ugly.
+Besides, I was only a boy then. Perhaps I had some imagination left. It
+is a gift which one loses in later life."
+
+"But religion is not dependent upon imagination."
+
+"Wholly. Religion is an effort of imagination and, therefore, is more or
+less a matter of disposition. That is one of its chief absurdities. Women
+and sensitive boys are easiest affected by it. Men of sturdy
+common-sense, men with brains and the knowledge how to use them, are
+every day bursting the trammels of an effete orthodoxy."
+
+"And what can their common-sense and their brains give them in its
+place?" I asked. "I cannot conceive any practical religion without
+orthodoxy."
+
+"A little measure of philosophy. It is all they want. Only the
+faint-hearted, who have not the courage to contemplate physical
+annihilation, console themselves by building up a hysterical faith in an
+impossible hereafter. There is no hereafter."
+
+"A horrible creed!" I exclaimed.
+
+"By no means. Let men devote half the time and the efforts that they
+devote to this phantasy of religion to schooling themselves in
+philosophic thought, and they will learn to contemplate it unmoved. To
+recognise that the end of life is inevitable is to rob it of most of its
+terrors, save to cowards. The man who wastes a tissue of his body in
+regretting what he cannot prevent is a fool. Annihilation is a more
+comfortable doctrine and a more reasonable one, too. Don't you agree with
+me, boy?"
+
+"No; not with a single word!" I cried, growing hot and a little angry,
+for I could see that he was only half in earnest and I had no fancy to be
+made a butt of. "Imagination is not the groundwork of religion;
+common-sense is. Why----"
+
+"Oh, spare me the stock arguments!" he broke in, with a slight shudder.
+"Keep your religion and hug it as close as you like, if you find it any
+comfort to you. Where have you been to school?"
+
+"Nowhere," I answered. "I have read with Mr. Sands, the curate of
+Rothland."
+
+He laughed softly to himself, as though the idea amused him, looking at
+me all the time as though I were some sort of natural curiosity.
+
+"Fond of reading, are you?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Yes. Fonder than I am of anything else."
+
+"And your books--where do they come from?"
+
+"Wherever I can get any. From the library at Mellborough, or from Mr.
+Sands, most of them." He laughed again and repeated my words, as though
+amused.
+
+"No wonder you're behind the times," he remarked. "Now, shall I lend you
+some books?"
+
+I shook my head feebly, for I was longing to accept his offer.
+
+"I'm afraid your sort of books would not suit me," I said. "I don't want
+to be converted to your way of thinking. It seems to me that there is
+such a thing as overtraining of the mind."
+
+"So you look upon me as a sort of Mephistopheles, eh? Well, I've no
+ambition to make a convert of you. To be a pessimist is to be----"
+
+"An unhappy man," I interrupted eagerly, "and a very narrow-minded one,
+too. It is a city-born creed. No one could live out here in the country
+and espouse it!"
+
+"Boy, how old are you?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Seventeen next birthday, sir," I answered.
+
+"You have a glib tongue--the sign of an empty head, I fear."
+
+"Better empty than full of unhealthy philosophy," I answered bluntly.
+
+He laughed outright.
+
+"The country air has sharpened your wits, at any rate," he said. "You're
+a fool, Philip Morton; but you will be happier in your folly than other
+men in their wisdom. There's a great deal of comfort in ignorance."
+
+He gave me a careless yet not unkind nod and, wheeling his great horse
+round with a turn of the wrist, galloped down the hillside and across the
+soft, spongy turf at a pace which soon carried him out of sight. But I
+stood for a while on a piece of broken rock on the summit of the hill
+gazing after his retreating figure, and watching the twinkling lights
+from the many villages stretched away in the valley below. The sound of
+his low, strong voice yet vibrated in my ears, and the sad, beautiful
+face, with its languid grey eyes and weary expression, seemed still by my
+side. Already I began to feel something of the influence which this man
+appeared to exercise over everyone whom he came near; and I felt vaguely,
+even then, that if suffered to grow, it would become an influence
+all-powerful with me.
+
+When I reached home it was late--so late that my mother, who seldom
+betrayed any interest or curiosity in my doings, asked me questions. I
+felt a curious reluctance at first to tell her with whom I had been
+talking, and it was justified when I saw the effect which my words had
+upon her. A look almost of horror filled her eyes and her face was white
+with anger. It was as though a long-expected blow had fallen.
+
+"At last! at last!" she murmured to herself, as though forgetful of my
+presence. Then her eyes closed and her lips moved softly. It seemed to me
+that she was praying.
+
+I was bewildered and inclined to be angry that she should carry her
+dislike of Mr. Ravenor so far. Did she think me so weak and
+impressionable that a few minutes' conversation with any man could bring
+me harm?
+
+"You carry your dislike of Mr. Ravenor a little too far, mother," I
+ventured to say. "What can you know of him so bad that you see danger in
+my having talked with him for a few minutes?"
+
+She looked at me fixedly and grew more composed.
+
+"It is too late now, Philip," she said, in a low tone. "The mischief is
+done. If I could have foreseen this we would have gone away."
+
+"To have avoided Mr. Ravenor?" I cried, wondering.
+
+"Yes."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+                          A DOUBTFUL VISITOR.
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the following day a visitor rode through the
+stack-yard and reined in his horse before our door. I was reading in the
+room which my mother chiefly occupied and, when I glanced out of the
+side-window, overhung and darkened by jessamine and honeysuckle, I had a
+great surprise. The book dropped from my fingers and I stood still for a
+moment, uncertain what to do. For outside, sitting composedly upon his
+fine black horse and apparently considering as to the best means of
+making his presence known, was Mr. Ravenor.
+
+He saw me and, with a curt but not ungracious motion of the head,
+beckoned me out. I went at once and found him dismounted and standing
+upon the step.
+
+"I want to see your mother, boy," he said sharply. "Is there no one about
+who can hold my horse? Where are all the farm men?"
+
+I hesitated and stood there for a moment, awkward and confused. My
+mother's strange words concerning him were still ringing in my ears.
+Supposing she refused to come down and receive, as a visitor, the man of
+whom she had spoken such mysterious words? Nothing appeared to me more
+likely. And yet what was I to do?
+
+He watched me, as though reading my thoughts. That he was indeed doing so
+I very quickly discovered.
+
+"Quick, boy!" he said. "I am not accustomed to be kept waiting. I know as
+well as you do that I am not a welcome visitor, but your mother will see
+me, nevertheless. Call one of the men!"
+
+I passed across the garden and entered the farmyard. Jim, the waggoner,
+was there, turning over a manure-heap, and I returned with him at my
+heels. Mr. Ravenor tossed him the reins and, stooping low, followed me
+into our little sitting-room.
+
+He laid his whip upon the table and, selecting the most comfortable
+chair, sat down leisurely and crossed his legs. He was, of course,
+entirely at his ease, and was watching my discomposure with a quiet,
+mocking smile.
+
+"Now go and tell your mother that I desire to see her!" he commanded.
+
+With slow steps I turned away, and, mounting the stairs, knocked at her
+door.
+
+"Mother, there is a visitor downstairs!" I called out softly. "It is----"
+
+"I know," she answered calmly. "Go away. I shall be down in a few
+minutes."
+
+I went downstairs again and into the sitting-room, breathing more freely.
+Mr. Ravenor had not stirred, and when I entered appeared to be deep in
+thought. At the sound of my footsteps, however, his expression changed at
+once into its former impassiveness. He glanced round the room with an air
+of lazy curiosity and his half-closed eyes rested upon my little case of
+books.
+
+"What have you there?" he inquired. "Read me out the titles."
+
+I did so, with just an inkling of reluctance, for my collection was
+altogether a haphazard one, precious though it was to me. Half-way
+through he checked me.
+
+"There, that'll do!" he exclaimed, laughing softly. "This is really
+idyllic. 'Abercrombie' and 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'Jeremy Taylor' and 'Thomas
+a Kempis.' My poor boy, if you have a headpiece at all, how it must want
+oiling!"
+
+I was a little indignant at his tone and answered him quickly.
+
+"I don't know. I'm not sure that I should care for your kind of books
+very much."
+
+He arched his fine eyebrows and the smile still lingered around his lips.
+
+"Indeed! And why not? And how have you been able to divine what sort of
+books mine are, without having seen them?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I don't mean that exactly," I answered, sitting on the
+edge of the table, and thrusting my hands deep down into my trousers
+pockets, with the uncomfortable sensation that I was making a fool of
+myself. "I was judging from what you said you were last night. If study
+has only brought you to pessimism, I would rather be ignorant."
+
+"You really are a wonderfully wise boy for your years," he said, still
+smiling. "But you must remember that there are two distinct branches of
+study. One, the more popular and the more commonly recognised, leads to
+acquired knowledge--the knowledge of facts and sciences and languages;
+the other is the pure sharpening and training of the mind, by reading
+other men's thoughts and ideas and theories--in short, by becoming master
+of all the philosophical writers of all nations. Now, it is the latter
+which you would have to avoid in order to retain your present Arcadian
+simplicity; but without the former, man is scarcely above the level of an
+animal."
+
+"I think I see what you mean," I admitted. "I should like to be a good
+classical scholar and mathematician, and know a lot of things. It seems
+to me," I added hesitatingly, "that this sort of knowledge is quite
+sufficient to strengthen and train the mind. The other would be very
+likely to overtrain it and prove unhealthy, especially if it leads
+everyone where it has led you."
+
+"Oh, I wanted no leading!" he said lightly. "I was born a pessimist.
+Schopenhauer was my earliest friend, Voltaire my teacher, and Shelley my
+god! Matter of disposition, of course. I had too little imagination to
+care a rap about cultivating a religion, and too much to be a moralist.
+Your mother is coming at last, then?"
+
+The door opened and I looked up anxiously. The words of introduction
+which had been trembling upon my lips were unuttered. I stood as helpless
+and dumbfounded as a ploughboy, with my eyes fixed upon my mother.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+                     A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.
+
+
+That it was my mother I could not at first believe. She wore a plain dark
+dress, with a black lace kerchief about her neck; but a dress, simple
+though it was, of a style and material unlike any that I had ever before
+seen her wear. Although I knew nothing of her history, I had always
+suspected that she was of a very different station from my father's, and
+at that moment I knew it, for it seemed as though she had, of a sudden,
+made up her mind to assume her proper position. Not only were her dress
+and the fashion of arranging her hair unusual, but her manners, her
+voice, her whole bearing and appearance were utterly changed. It was as
+though she had, without the slightest warning, dropped the mask of long
+years, and stepped back, like a flash, into the personality which
+belonged to her.
+
+Nor was this the only change. A slight pink flush had chased the leaden
+pallor from her cheeks, and her eyes, which had of late seemed dull and
+heavy, were full of sparkling light and suppressed animation. Her
+manners, as well as her personal appearance, all bore witness to some
+startling metamorphosis. I was more than astonished; I was thunderstruck.
+What seemed to me most wonderful was that a visit from the man against
+whom she had so solemnly and passionately cautioned me should thus have
+galvanised her into another state of being.
+
+Mr. Ravenor rose at her entrance and bowed with the easy grace of a man
+of the world. My mother returned his greeting with a stately
+self-possession which matched his own; but it struck me, watching them
+both closely, that, while he was perfectly collected, she was in reality
+far from being so. I could see the delicate white fingers of her left
+hand fold themselves convulsively around the lace handkerchief which she
+was carrying, and when she entered a shiver--gone in a moment and
+perceptible only to me, because my eyes were fastened upon her--shook her
+slim, lithe figure.
+
+But in the few commonplace remarks which first passed between them there
+was nothing in speech or manner that betrayed the least embarrassment.
+She answered him as one of his own order, graciously, yet just allowing
+him to see that his visit was a surprise to her and that she expected him
+to declare its purpose. I have dwelt somewhat upon this meeting for
+reasons which will be sufficiently apparent when I have finished my
+story.
+
+After a few remarks about the farm, the crops, and the favourable
+weather, he gave the wished-for explanation.
+
+"I have come to say a few words to you about your son, Mrs. Morton," he
+began abruptly.
+
+She and I looked equally astonished.
+
+"I am a man of few words," he continued. "The few which I desire to say
+upon this subject had better be said, I think, to you alone, Mrs.
+Morton."
+
+I would have left the room at once, but my mother prevented me. She laid
+a trembling hand upon my shoulder, and drew me closer to her.
+
+"You can have nothing to say to me, Mr. Ravenor, which it would not be
+better for him to hear, especially as you say that it concerns him."
+
+He shrugged his high, square shoulders, as though indifferent; but I
+fancied, nevertheless, that a shade of annoyance lingered in his face for
+a moment.
+
+"Very good!" he said shortly. "Rumour may have told you, Mrs. Morton, if
+you ever listen to such things, that I am a very wicked man. Possibly! I
+don't deny it! At any rate, I am, by disposition and custom, profoundly
+selfish. I owe to your son a luxury--that of having found my thoughts
+withdrawn from myself for a few minutes--with me a most rare event.
+
+"I met him last evening and talked with him. He talked like a fool, it is
+true, but that has nothing to do with it. Afterwards I thought of him
+again; wondered what you were going to do with him; remembered--pardon
+me!--that you must be poor; and remembered, also, that you have suffered
+through a servant of mine."
+
+He paused. For nearly half a minute they looked one another in the
+face--my mother and this man. There was something in her rapt, fascinated
+gaze, and in the keen, brilliant light which flashed from his dark eyes
+as he returned it, which seemed strange to me. It was like a challenge
+offered and accepted--a duel in which neither was vanquished, for neither
+flinched.
+
+"It occurred to me then," he continued calmly, "to call and ask you what
+you intended doing with him, and to plead, as excuses for the suggestion
+which I am about to make, the reasons which I have just stated. I am a
+rich man, as you know, and the money would be nothing to me. I wish to be
+allowed to defray the expenses of finishing your son's education."
+
+It seemed to me a magnificently generous offer, but a very simple one. I
+could not understand the agitation and apparent indecision which it
+caused my mother. Her prompt refusal I could have understood, although it
+would have been a blow to me. But this mixture of horror and
+consternation, of emotion and dismay, I could make nothing of. The
+feeling which I had imagined would surely be manifested--gratitude--was
+conspicuous by its absence. What did it all mean?
+
+My mother sat down and Mr. Ravenor leaned back in his armchair,
+apparently content to wait for her decision. I moved across the room to
+her side and took her cold fingers into mine.
+
+"Mother," I cried, with glowing cheeks and voice trembling with
+eagerness, "what is the matter? Why do you not say 'yes'? You know how I
+have wanted to go to college! There is no reason why you should not
+consent, is there?"
+
+Mr. Ravenor smiled--a very slight movement of the lips.
+
+"If your mother considers your interests at all," he said calmly, "she
+will certainly consent."
+
+I was about to speak, but my mother looked up and I checked the words on
+my lips.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor," she said quietly, "I accept your offer and I thank you for
+it. That is all I can say."
+
+"Quite enough," he remarked nonchalantly.
+
+"But there is one thing I should like you to understand," she added,
+looking up at him. "I consent, it is true; but, had it not been for
+another reason, far more powerful with me than any you have urged, I
+never should have done so. It is a reason which you do not know of--and
+which I pray that you never may know of," she added, in a lower key.
+
+He made no answer; indeed, he seemed little interested in my mother's
+words. He turned, instead, to me and read in my face all the enthusiasm
+which hers lacked. I would have spoken, but he held up his hand and
+checked me.
+
+"Only on one condition," he said coldly. "No thanks. I hate them! What I
+do for you I do to please myself. The money which it will cost me is no
+more than I have thrown away many times on the idlest passing pleasure. I
+have simply chosen to gratify a whim, and it happens that you are the
+gainer. Remember that you can best show your gratitude by silence."
+
+His words fell like drops of ice upon my impetuosity. I remained silent
+without an effort.
+
+"From what you said just now," he continued, "I learn that it has been
+your desire to perfect your education in a fashion which you could not
+have done here. Have you any distinct aims? I mean, have you any definite
+ideas as to the future?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I never dared to encourage any," I answered, truthfully enough. "I knew
+that we were poor and that I should have to think about earning my living
+soon--probably as a schoolmaster."
+
+"You mean to say, then, that you have never had any distinct
+ambitions--everything has been vague?"
+
+"Except one thing," I answered slowly. "There is one thing which I have
+always set before me to accomplish some day, but it is scarcely an
+ambition and it has nothing to do with a career."
+
+"Tell it to me!" he commanded.
+
+I did so, without hesitation, looking him full in the face with
+heightened colour, but speaking with all the determination which I felt
+in my heart.
+
+"I have made up my mind that some day I will find the man Francis--the
+man who murdered my father!"
+
+He was silent. I could almost have fancied that he was in some measure
+moved by my words, and the refined beauty of his dark face was heightened
+for a moment by the strange, sad look which flashed across it. Then he
+rose and took up his riding-whip from the table.
+
+"A boyish enthusiasm," he remarked contemptuously, as he made his way
+towards the door. "Where the cleverest detectives in England have failed,
+you hope to succeed. Well, I wish you success. The rascal deserves to
+swing, certainly. You will hear further from me in a day or two.
+Good-morning!"
+
+He left the room abruptly and I followed him, stepping bareheaded out
+into the sunshine to look about for Jim, who was leading his horse up and
+down the road.
+
+When I returned, Mr. Ravenor was still standing upon the doorstep
+watching me intently.
+
+"I am going back to speak to your mother for a moment," he said slowly,
+withdrawing his eyes from my face at last. "No; stop where you are!" he
+added imperatively. "I wish to speak to her alone."
+
+I obeyed him and wandered about the orchard until I saw him come out and
+gallop furiously away across the park. Then I hurried into the house.
+
+"Mother!" I exclaimed, calling out to her before I had opened the door of
+the parlour--"mother, what do you--"
+
+I stopped short and hurried to her side, alarmed at her appearance. Her
+cheeks, even her lips, were ashen pale and her eyes were closed. She had
+fainted in her chair.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+                          AN ABODE OF MYSTERY.
+
+
+For the first time in my life I was on my way to Ravenor Castle, summoned
+there by a brief, imperious note from Mr. Ravenor. Often had I looked
+longingly from the distant hills of the park upon its grey, rugged towers
+and mighty battlements; but I had never dared to clamber over the high
+wall into the inner grounds, nor even to make my way up the servants'
+drive to win a closer acquaintance with it.
+
+One reason why I had abstained from doing what, on the face of it, would
+seem a very natural thing to do, was a solemn promise to my mother,
+extracted from me almost as soon as I was able to get about by myself,
+never to pass within that great boundary-wall which completely encircled
+the inner grounds and wardens of the castle. But, apart from that, the
+thing would have been impossible for me, in any case.
+
+I have already said that Mr. Ravenor bore the character of being a
+remarkably eccentric man. Perhaps one of the most striking manifestations
+of this eccentricity lay in the rigid seclusion in which he chose to live
+while at the Castle, and the extraordinary precautions which he had taken
+to prevent all intruders and visitors of every sort from obtaining access
+to him.
+
+From the outer part there was indeed no attempt to exclude anyone
+belonging to the neighbourhood who chose to ramble about there, and in
+Mr. Ravenor's absence visitors who had obtained permission from the
+steward were occasionally permitted to drive through; but to the grounds
+and the Castle itself access was simply an impossibility. Had Ravenor
+Castle been the abode of a sovereign, and the country around in
+possession of a hostile people, the precautions could scarcely have been
+more rigorous.
+
+The high stone wall, which encircled the Castle and gardens for a circuit
+of three-quarters of a mile, effectually shut them off from the outside
+world. The postern-gates with which it was pierced were of solid iron,
+and the locks which secured them were said to have been fashioned by a
+Hindoo whom Mr. Ravenor had once brought home with him from India, and to
+be perfectly unique in their design and workmanship. The two main
+carriage entrances, about half a mile apart, were remarkable for nothing
+but the fine proportions of the towering iron gates; but they were always
+kept jealously locked and barred, and the fate of the uninvited guest who
+presented himself there was inevitable. There was no admittance.
+
+The afternoon was drawing towards a close when I turned the last corner
+of the winding avenue and approached the entrance. It had been a wild,
+blustering day; but just before I started from home the wind had dropped
+and a watery sun, feebly piercing the masses of heavy clouds with which
+the sky was strewn, was shining down, with a wan, unnatural glow, upon
+the clumps of fir-trees on either side of the way and the massive,
+frowning towers of the Castle close above me.
+
+Under foot and around me everything was wet. With the faintest stir of
+the dying breeze showers of raindrops fell from shrubs and trees, and at
+every step my feet sank into the soft, soaked gravel, or sent the
+moisture bubbling up from the layers of rotten leaves and twigs which the
+morning's gale had scattered along the road.
+
+It was an afternoon to damp anyone's spirits; and it was perhaps to the
+influence of the weather that I owed the sudden sinking of heart and
+courage which came over me as I slackened my pace before the grim-looking
+lodges and barred gate. I had started from home, notwithstanding my
+mother's white face and nervous, trembling manner, in a state of
+pleasurable excitement.
+
+I was about to penetrate into a mystery which had been the curiosity of
+my boyhood; I was to become one of those favoured few who had been
+permitted to pass within the portals of Ravenor Castle; and, more than
+that, I was about to visit there as the guest of a man whose marvellous
+reputation, personality, and career had kindled within me an almost
+passionate reverence--a man who had long been the object of my devoted,
+although boyish and unreasonable, hero-worship. Yet, though it would seem
+that I had everything to gain and nothing to fear or lose from the coming
+interview, no sooner had I arrived within sight of my destination than my
+spirits sank to zero.
+
+A woman would have called it a presentiment and have accepted it with
+mute despair. To me it seemed only an unreasonable reaction from my
+previous state of suppressed excitement--a feeling to be crushed at any
+cost, lest I should stand, with gloomy, unthankful face, before the man
+in whose power it lay to raise me from my present distasteful position
+and prospects. So I threw my head back and quickened my steps, keeping
+resolutely before me in my thoughts all that I had ventured to hope from
+my forthcoming interview; and by the time I stood before the great iron
+gates and stretched out my hand to ring the bell, the depression had
+almost passed away, and the eagerness which I felt was, no doubt, fully
+reflected m my countenance.
+
+I had no need to ring. My last quick footstep had fallen upon a harder
+substance than the gravel upon which I had been walking, and the contact
+of my feet with it made my presence known in a manner which surprised me
+not a little. There was a shrill ringing from the lodge door on my right,
+and almost simultaneously it opened and a servant came out in the dark
+Ravenor livery.
+
+"Will you be so good, sir, as to step off the planking?" he said.
+
+I moved a yard or two backwards, and the bell--it was an electric bell,
+of course--instantly ceased. It was my first experience of any such means
+of communication, and I stood for a moment looking down in some
+bewilderment.
+
+"Your name and business, sir?" the man inquired respectfully. "Did you
+wish to see Mr. Clemson?" Mr. Clemson was the steward.
+
+"My name is Morton, and my business is with Mr. Ravenor," I answered. "I
+want to see him."
+
+"I am afraid that Mr. Ravenor will not be able to see you, sir," he said.
+"Have you an appointment?"
+
+"Yes; for five o'clock," I answered. And the words had scarcely left my
+lips before the first stroke of the hour boomed out from the great Castle
+clock. Perhaps, more than anything else could have done, that sound
+brought home to me the realisation of where I was. Hour after hour, all
+through my life, from the depths of Rothland Wood, from the home meadows,
+or in my long rambles over the far-away Barnwood Hills, I had heard those
+deep, throbbing chimes; sometimes faint and low, when the wind bore the
+sound away from me, sometimes harsh and piercing in the storm, and often
+as dear and distinct as though only a sheet of water stretched between
+us. And now I stood almost within a stone's throw of them, and marvelled
+no longer that the deep, resounding notes should travel so far over hill
+and moor that I had never yet been able to wander out of hearing of them.
+
+The man accepted my explanation after a moment's hesitation, and,
+standing aside from the doorway out of which he had issued, motioned me
+to enter. I did so and received a fresh surprise. Instead of finding
+myself in the home of one of the servants of the estate, which would have
+seemed the natural thing, I found myself in a most luxuriously furnished
+waiting-room, hung with mirrors and oak-framed paintings upon a dark
+panelled wall. My feet sank into a thick carpet, and I subsided, a little
+dazed, into a low, crimson velvet chair, and found beside me a table
+covered with magazines.
+
+The man followed me into the room, and, as he passed on his way to its
+upper end, he wheeled towards me a smaller table on which were decanters
+and glasses and a long box of cigarettes. Scarcely glancing at them, I
+watched him unlock a tall cupboard and half vanish inside it.
+
+He remained there for a space of almost five minutes. Then he stepped
+out, carefully locked it and advanced towards me. I fancied that there
+was a shade more respect in his manner and certainly some surprise.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor's servant will be here in a few minutes, sir, to show you
+the way to the Castle."
+
+I thought that I could have found it very well by myself, but, of course,
+I could not say so. I occupied myself by examining the contents of the
+room, and struggled for a few moments between a feeling of strong
+curiosity and a natural disinclination to ask questions of a servant,
+especially one whose manner seemed so little to invite them. Finally the
+former conquered.
+
+"How did you find that out without leaving this room?" I asked.
+
+He pointed to the cupboard.
+
+"We have a telephone there in connection with the Castle, sir," he
+explained. Then he busied himself arranging some papers on a table at the
+other end of the apartment, with the obvious air of not desiring to be
+questioned further.
+
+The explanation was so simple that I smiled. I began to realise the very
+insufficient causes which had given rise to the stories which were always
+floating about concerning the mystery in which the master of Ravenor
+Castle chose to dwell. What more natural than that a man of liberal
+education, with a passion for absolute solitude, should seek to insure it
+by some such means as these, by the application of very simple scientific
+devices, common enough in a city, but unheard of in our quiet country
+neighbourhood?
+
+I was kept waiting for about a quarter of an hour. Then the door was
+opened noiselessly from without and a tall, dark man, clean-shaven and
+dressed in black, relieved by an immaculate white tie, entered and looked
+at me. I rose to my feet and threw down the magazine which I had been
+pretending to read.
+
+"You are Mr. Morton?" he inquired, in a subdued tone, glancing steadily
+at me the while with somewhat puzzled, criticising gaze, which, perhaps
+unreasonably, annoyed me extremely. It was an annoyance which I took
+pains not to show, however, for something about the personality of the
+man impressed me. His manner, though studiously respectful, was not
+without a certain quiet dignity, and his thin oval face--thin almost to
+emaciation--had in it more than a suspicion of refinement. My first
+glance, whilst I was undergoing his brief scrutiny, assured me that this
+was no ordinary servant.
+
+"That is my name," I answered. "You have come to take me to Mr. Ravenor?"
+
+"If you will be so good as to follow me, sir."
+
+I took up my cap and did so, taking long, swinging strides up the steep
+ascent, hoping thereby to gain his side and ask him a few questions about
+the place. But he prevented this by hurrying on when I was close behind
+him; so, after the third attempt I gave it up, and contented myself by
+looking around me as much as I could, and making the most of the short
+walk.
+
+On one side of the drive--I had been along few highways as wide--was a
+tall yew hedge, which shut out little from my view, for the thick black
+pine-wood which overtopped and formed so striking a background to the
+grand old Castle had never been thinned in this direction, and stretched
+away in a wide, irregular belt, skirting the long line of out-buildings
+to the hills and beyond. But on the right hand only a low ring-fence
+separated us from the grounds immediately in front of the Castle, which a
+sudden bend in the sharply winding road brought into full view.
+
+My absolute ignorance of architecture forbids my attempting to describe
+it, save in its general effect. I remember even now what that effect was
+upon me when I stood for the first time almost at its foot. At a distance
+its frowning battlements and worn grey turrets had a majestic appearance;
+but, standing as I did then, within a few hundred yards of its vast,
+imposing front, and almost under the shadow of its walls and towers, its
+effect was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
+
+I almost held my breath as I gazed upon it and the terrace lawns, sloping
+away below, smooth-shaven, velvetty, the very perfection of English turf.
+Not that I had much time to look about me. On the contrary, my conductor
+never once slackened his pace, and when I involuntarily paused for a
+moment, with eyes riveted upon the magnificent pile before me, he looked
+round sharply and beckoned me impatiently to proceed.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor is not used to be kept waiting, sir," he remarked, "and will
+be expecting us."
+
+I pulled myself together with an effort and followed him more closely. We
+passed under a bridge of solid masonry, moss-encrusted, and indented with
+the storms of ages and the ruder marks of battering-ram and cannon,
+across a wide, circular courtyard protected by massive iron gates, which
+rolled slowly open before us with many ponderous creakings and gratings,
+as though reluctant to admit a stranger, into a great, white, stone-paved
+hall, dimly lighted, yet sufficiently so to enable me to perceive the
+long rows of armoured warriors which lined the walls, and the lances and
+spears and shields which flashed above their heads.
+
+We passed straight across it, our footsteps awakening clattering echoes
+as they fell on the polished flags, through a door on the opposite side,
+into a room which nearly took my breath away. From the high, vaulted
+ceiling to the floor, on every side of the apartment, were books--nothing
+but books.
+
+Two men--one old, the other of about my own age--looked up from a table
+as we entered and paused in their work, which seemed to be cataloguing;
+but my guide passed them without remark or notice, and walked straight
+across the room to where a crimson curtain, hanging down in thick folds,
+concealed a black oak door. Here he knocked, and I waited by his side
+until the answer came in that clear, low tone, which, though I had heard
+it but once or twice before, I could have recognised in a thousand. Then
+my guide turned the handle and, silently motioning me to enter, left me.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+                               MR. MARX.
+
+
+At first I had eyes only for the dark figure seated a few yards away from
+me at a small writing-table drawn into the centre of the room. He was
+bending low over his desk and never even raised his eyes or ceased
+writing at my entrance. Before him on the table, and scattered around his
+chair on the floor, were many sheets of white foolscap covered with his
+broad, firm handwriting, some with the ink scarcely dry upon them; and
+while I stood before him he impatiently swept another one from his desk
+and, without waiting to see it flutter to the ground, began a fresh
+sheet.
+
+A glass of water, a few dry biscuits, and a little pile of books--some
+turned face-downwards--were by his side. Nothing else was on the table,
+save a great pile of unused paper, a watch detached from its chain, and a
+heavily-shaded lamp, which threw a ghastly light upon his white, worn
+face, and his dry, brilliant eyes, under which were faintly engraven the
+dark rims of the student.
+
+I watched him for a while, fascinated. Then, as he took not the slightest
+notice of me, my eyes began to wander round the room. It was hexagonal
+and, on every side save one, lined from the floor to the high ceiling
+with books. The furniture was all of black oak, as also were the
+bookshelves, and the carpet and hangings were of a deep olive-green. The
+mantelpiece and inlaid grate were of black marble, faintly relieved with
+gold, and within the polished bars of the grate a small fire was burning.
+
+There was nothing cheerful about the apartment; on the contrary, it
+struck me as being, though magnificent, sombre and heavy, wrapped as it
+was in the gloom of a dismal twilight, which the flickering fire and the
+shaded lamp failed to pierce. From the high French windows, I could catch
+a glimpse of a long stretch of soddened lawn, beyond which everything was
+shrouded in the semi-obscurity of the fast-falling dusk, deepened by the
+grey, cloudy sky. But I chose, after my first glance around the room, to
+keep my eyes fixed upon the man who sat writing before me, the man in
+whom already I felt an interest so strong as to deaden all the curiosity
+which I might otherwise have felt as to my surroundings.
+
+At last he seemed conscious of my presence. Lifting his eyes, to give
+them a momentary rest, he encountered my fixed gaze. For a moment he
+looked at me in a puzzled manner, as though wondering how I came there.
+Then his expression changed and, putting down his pen, he pushed his
+papers away from him.
+
+"So you have come, Philip Morton," he said.
+
+To so self-evident a statement I could return no answer, save a brief
+affirmative. He seemed to expect nothing more, however.
+
+"How old did you say you were?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Seventeen, sir."
+
+It was quite five minutes before he spoke again, during which time he sat
+with knitted brows and eyes fixed intently but absently upon me, deep in
+thought, and thought of which it seemed to me somehow that I must be the
+subject.
+
+"Where were you born?"
+
+"At the farm, sir--at least, I suppose so."
+
+It flashed into my mind at that moment that I had never heard the period
+of my earliest childhood spoken of either by my father or mother. But it
+was only a passing thought, dismissed almost as soon as conceived. Had we
+not always lived at the farm? Where else could I have been born?
+
+"Do you know any of your mother's relations?" Mr. Ravenor asked, taking
+no notice of the qualifying addition to my previous answer.
+
+I shook my head. I had never seen or heard of any of them, and it was a
+circumstance upon which I had more than once pondered. But my mother's
+reserved demeanour towards me of late years had checked many questions
+which I might otherwise have felt inclined to ask her. There was a brief
+silence, during which Mr. Ravenor sat with his face half turned away from
+me, resting it lightly upon the long, delicate fingers of his left hand.
+
+"You are a little young for college," he said presently, in a more
+matter-of-fact tone; "besides which, I doubt whether you are quite
+advanced enough. I have decided, therefore, to send you for two years to
+a clergyman in Lincolnshire who receives a few pupils, my own nephew
+among them. He is a friend of mine, and will give some shape to your
+studies. There are one or two things which I shall ask you to remember
+when you get there," he went on.
+
+"First, that this little arrangement between your mother, yourself, and
+me remains absolutely a secret among us. Also that you seek, or, at any
+rate, do not refuse, the friendship of my nephew, Cecil, Lord Silchester.
+From what I can learn I fear that he is behaving in a most unsatisfactory
+manner, and, as I know him to be weak-minded and easily led, his
+behaviour at present and his character in the future are to a great
+extent dependent upon the influence which his immediate companions may
+have over him. You understand me?"
+
+I assented silently, for words at that moment were not at my command; my
+cheeks were flushed, and my heart was beating with pleasure at the
+confidence in me which Mr. Ravenor's words implied. That moment was one
+of the sweetest of my life.
+
+"I do not, of course, wish you to play the spy in any way upon my
+nephew," Mr. Ravenor continued, "but I shall expect you to tell me the
+unbiassed truth should I at any time ask you any questions concerning
+him; and if you think, after you have been there some time and have had
+an opportunity of judging, that he would be likely to do better
+elsewhere, under stricter discipline than at Dr. Randall's, I shall
+expect you to tell me so. In plain words, Philip Morton, I ask you to
+take an interest in and look after my nephew."
+
+"I will do my best, sir," I answered fervently.
+
+"A youthful Mentor, very!"
+
+The words, accompanied by something closely resembling a sneer, came from
+neither Mr. Ravenor nor myself. Either a third person must have been in
+the room before my arrival and during the whole of our conversation, or
+he must have entered it since by some means unknown to me, for almost at
+my elbow, on the side remote from the door, stood the man who had broken
+in, without apology or explanation, upon our interview.
+
+Both from the strange manner of his attire and on account of his
+personality, I could not repress a strong curiosity in the new-comer. He
+was above the average height, but of awkward and ungainly figure, its
+massiveness enhanced by the long black dressing-gown which was wrapped
+loosely around him. His hair and beard were of a deep reddish hue, the
+former partly concealed by a black silk skull-cap, and he wore thick blue
+spectacles, which by no means added to the attractiveness of his face;
+his features--those which were visible--were good, but their effect was
+completely spoilt by the disfiguring glasses and his curious complexion.
+There was an air of power about him difficult to analyse, but
+sufficiently apparent, which altogether redeemed him from coarseness, or
+even mediocrity; and his voice, too, was good. But my impressions
+concerning him were very mixed ones.
+
+He was evidently someone of account in the household, for he stood on the
+hearthrug with his hands thrust into his loose pockets, completely at his
+ease, and without making any apology for his unceremonious appearance.
+When I first turned to look at him he was examining me with a cold,
+critical stare, which made me feel uncomfortable without knowing why.
+
+"Who is the young gentleman?" he asked, turning to Mr. Ravenor. "Won't
+you introduce me?"
+
+Mr. Ravenor took up some papers lying on the table before him and began
+to sort them.
+
+"It is Philip Morton, the son of the man who was murdered in Rothland
+Wood," he answered quietly. "I am going to undertake his education."
+
+"Indeed! You're becoming quite a philanthropist," was the reply. "But why
+not send him to a public school at once?"
+
+"Because a public school would be just the worst place for him," Mr.
+Ravenor answered coldly. "His education has been good enough up to now, I
+dare say, but it has not been systematic. It wants shape and proportion,
+and Dr. Randall is just the man to see to that."
+
+The new-comer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I don't believe in private tutors," he remarked.
+
+"That scarcely affects the question," Mr. Ravenor answered, a little
+haughtily. "Are you ready for me, Marx?"
+
+"I shall be presently. I had very nearly finished when the sound of
+voices tempted me out to see whom you had admitted into your august
+presence. You have not completed the introduction."
+
+Mr. Ravenor turned to me with a slight frown upon his fine forehead.
+
+"Morton," he said, "this is Mr. Marx, my private secretary and
+collaborator."
+
+We exchanged greetings, and I looked at him with revived interest. The
+man who was worthy to work with Mr. Ravenor must be a scholar indeed,
+and, on the whole, Mr. Marx looked it. I almost forgave him his
+supercilious speech and patronising manner.
+
+"You have quite settled, then, to send this young man to Dr. Randall's?"
+Mr. Marx said calmly.
+
+"I have. There are one or two more matters which I have not yet mentioned
+to him, so I shall be glad to see you again in half an hour," Mr. Ravenor
+remarked, glancing at his watch.
+
+Mr. Marx nodded to me in a not unfriendly manner, and, lifting a curtain,
+which I had not noticed before, disappeared into a smaller apartment.
+
+Mr. Ravenor waited until he was out of hearing and then turned towards
+me.
+
+"I do not know whether it is necessary for me to mention it, as you may
+possibly not come into contact again," he said slowly; "but in case you
+should do so, remember this: I wish you to have as little to do with Mr.
+Marx as possible. You--"
+
+He broke off suddenly and I started and looked round, half amazed, half
+frightened. The continuous sound of an electric-bell, which seemed to
+come from within a few feet of me, was echoing through the room.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+                            LADY SILCHESTER.
+
+
+Mr. Ravenor sat like a man stunned by a sudden shock, while the shrill
+ringing grew more and more imperative. Then suddenly, when I least
+expected it, he spoke, and the fact that his calm, even tone betrayed not
+the slightest sign of agitation or anything approaching to it, was a
+great relief to me. After all, his silence might have meant indifference.
+
+"Go over there," he said, pointing to the corner of the room from which
+the sound came.
+
+I did so and saw just before me what seemed to be a dark mahogany box let
+into the wall.
+
+"Touch that knob," he commanded, "and put your ear to the tube."
+
+I had scarcely done so when a quick, agitated voice, which I recognised
+as the voice of the man who had admitted me at the lodge gate, began
+speaking. I repeated his words to Mr. Ravenor.
+
+"I am very sorry, sir; but while I stepped in here to announce her, Lady
+Silchester has driven through. She is alone."
+
+Mr. Ravenor made no sign of annoyance or surprise. I could not tell
+whether the news was a relief to him, or the reverse.
+
+"Is there any answer, sir?" I inquired.
+
+"Yes. Tell him to come to the steward for his wages in an hour's time and
+be prepared to leave this evening."
+
+I hesitated and then repeated the words. Mr. Ravenor watched me keenly.
+
+"You are thinking that I am a stern master," he said abruptly.
+
+It was exactly what had been passing through my mind and I confessed it.
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I like to be obeyed implicitly, and to the letter," he said. "If a
+quarter of the people who present themselves here to see me were allowed
+to pass through to my Castle, my leisure, which is of some value to me,
+would be continually broken in upon. Anderson has been careful hitherto,
+however, and this must be a lesson to him. You can tell him as you go out
+that I will give him one more chance."
+
+I rose, with my cap in hand, but he waved me back.
+
+"I have a letter to write to your mother," he said, drawing some
+notepaper towards him. "Wait a minute or two."
+
+I strolled over to the high French windows and looked out upon the grey
+twilight. I had scarcely stood there for a moment when the sound of
+horses' feet and smoothly rolling wheels coming up the broad drive told
+me that Mr. Ravenor's visitor was at hand, and immediately afterwards a
+small brougham flashed past the window and, describing a semi-circle,
+pulled up in front of the hall door. A footman leaped down from the box
+and several servants stood on the steps and respectfully saluted the lady
+who had alighted from the carriage. A moment or two later there was a
+knock at the door.
+
+"Come in," answered Mr. Ravenor, without looking up, or even ceasing his
+writing, for I could hear the broad quill dashing away without a pause
+over the notepaper.
+
+A servant threw open the door and announced "Lady Silchester," and a tall
+woman, wrapped from head to foot in dark brown furs, swept past him and
+entered the room.
+
+A single glance at the slim, majestic figure, and at the classical
+outline of her face, told me who she was and told me rightly. It was Mr.
+Ravenor's sister.
+
+Mr. Ravenor rose and, without putting his pen down, welcomed Lady
+Silchester with cold, frigid courtesy, which she seemed determined,
+however, not to notice.
+
+"Quite an unexpected visit, this, isn't it?" she exclaimed, sinking into
+an easy chair before the fire with a little shiver. "I never was so cold!
+These autumn mists are awful, and I've had a twelve-mile drive. What a
+dreary room you have made of this!" she added, looking round with a
+little shrug of her shoulders and putting her hands farther into her
+muff. "How can you sit here in this ghostly light with only one lamp--and
+such a fire, too?"
+
+He smiled grimly, but it was not a smile which heralded any increase of
+geniality in his manner.
+
+"I am not in the habit of receiving ladies here," he remarked, "and I did
+not expect you. Where have you come from? I thought you were in Rome."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I wish we were. We came back last week and I went straight down to the
+Cedars--Tom's place at Melton, you know. I don't think I've been warm
+since I landed in England. Just now I'm nearly frozen to death."
+
+"I think you would find one of the rooms in the other wing more
+comfortable," he said, after a short pause; "besides which I am engaged
+at present. You dine here, of course?"
+
+"By all means," she answered. "You wouldn't send me back to Melton
+dinnerless, would you, even if I have come without an invitation? I am
+dying for a cup of tea."
+
+"Mrs. Ross shall send you anything you want," he said. "I will ring for
+her."
+
+She rose and shook out her skirts. Her eyes fell upon me.
+
+"You have a visitor," she remarked. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."
+
+She looked at me fixedly as I moved a few steps forward out of the deep
+shadows which hung about the further end of the apartment. Then she
+turned from me to Mr. Ravenor, who was holding open the door for her. He
+met her gaze steadily, with a calm, inquiring look in his deep eyes, as
+though wondering why she lingered.
+
+"Won't you introduce your visitor?" she asked slowly.
+
+He appeared wishful for her to go, yet resigned.
+
+"Certainly," he answered, "if you wish it. Cecilia, let me present to you
+Mr. Philip Morton, the son of a former neighbour of mine. You may be
+interested to hear that Mr. Morton is about to complete his education
+with Dr. Randall. Morton, this is my sister, Lady Silchester."
+
+Lady Silchester held up a pair of gold eye-glasses and looked at me
+steadily. I was not used to ladies, but Lady Silchester's manner did not
+please me, and, after a very slight bow, I drew myself up and returned
+her gaze without flinching. She turned abruptly away.
+
+"Yes, I am interested--a little surprised," she said, in a peculiar tone.
+"Let me congratulate you, my dear brother, on----"
+
+"Did I understand you to say that you would be ready in a quarter of an
+hour, Cecilia?" he interrupted calmly. "Permit me to order your horses to
+be put up." And he moved across the room towards the bell and rang it.
+
+She hesitated, bit her lip, and turned towards the door without another
+word. A servant stood upon the threshold, summoned by the bell.
+
+"Let Mrs. Ross attend Lady Silchester at once," Mr. Ravenor ordered. "Her
+ladyship will take tea in her room, and will dine with me in the library
+at half-past eight."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+The door was closed and we were alone again. Mr. Ravenor returned to his
+letter, with his lips slightly parted in a quiet smile. I stood still,
+hot and uncomfortable, wondering in what possible manner I could have
+offended Lady Silchester. The meaning of the little scene which had just
+taken place was beyond my comprehension. But I knew that it had a
+meaning, and that I was somehow concerned in it.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+                         THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.
+
+
+The letter which Mr. Ravenor had been writing to my mother was finished
+and sealed at last. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked steadily
+at me.
+
+"I shall not see you again before you go, Philip Morton," he said, "so I
+wish to impress upon you once more what I said to you about my nephew,
+who is Lady Silchester's son, by-the-bye. I know that he is going on
+badly, but I wish to know how badly. Unfortunately, he has no father,
+and, from what I can remember of him, I should imagine that he is quite
+easily led, and would be very amenable to the influence of a stronger
+mind. If yours should be that mind--and I do not see why it should
+not--it will be well for him. That delightfully Utopian optimism of yours
+is, at any rate, healthy," he added dryly.
+
+I felt my cheeks burn and would have spoken, but Mr. Ravenor checked me.
+
+"Let there be no misunderstanding between us," he said. "I desire no
+gratitude from you and I deserve none. What I am doing I am doing for my
+own gratification--perhaps for my own ultimate advantage. That you are a
+gainer by it is purely a matter of chance. The whim might just as well
+have been the other way. I might have taken a fancy to have you turned
+out of the place and, if so, I would have done it. On the whole, it is I
+who should be grateful to you for not baulking me in my scheme and for
+letting me have my own way. So understand, please, after this
+explanation, that I shall look upon any expression of gratitude from you
+as a glaring mark of imbecility, apart from which it will annoy me
+exceedingly."
+
+I listened in silence. What could one reply to such a strange way of
+putting a case? Mr. Ravenor's manner forbade any doubt as to his
+seriousness and I could only respect his wishes.
+
+"As you won't let me thank you, sir, I think I'd better go," I said
+bluntly. "I'm sure to forget if I stay here much longer."
+
+"A good discipline for you to stay, then," he answered.
+
+Again the tinkle of the telephone bell rang out from the corner and
+interrupted his speech. Mr. Ravenor motioned me towards it.
+
+"Go and hear what it is and repeat it to me," he said.
+
+I put my ear to the tube and repeated the words as they came:
+
+"A man desires to see you, sir, but refuses to give his name. I have told
+him that it is quite useless my communicating with you without it; but he
+is persistent and refuses to go away. He is respectably dressed, but
+rather rough-looking."
+
+Mr. Ravenor shrugged his shoulders and took up his pen, as though about
+to resume his writing.
+
+"Tell him to go to the deuce!" he said briefly.
+
+I repeated the message faithfully, but its recipient was evidently not
+satisfied. In less than a minute the bell sounded again.
+
+"His name is Richards, sir--or, rather, he says he is known to you by
+that name--and he is very emphatic about seeing you--and, begging your
+pardon, sir, a little insolent. He says that his business is of the
+utmost importance."
+
+I repeated the message and stood as though turned to stone. Was my fancy
+playing tricks with me in the dimly-lit room, or had Mr. Ravenor's face
+really become ghastly and livid, like the face of a man who sees the
+phantom shadows of a hideous nightmare passing before his fixed gaze? I
+closed my eyes for a moment's relief and looked again. Surely it had been
+fancy! Mr. Ravenor was writing with only a slight frown upon his calm,
+serene face.
+
+"Let Mr. Richards--or whatever the fellow's name is--be given to
+understand that I distinctly refuse to see him," he said quietly. "If he
+has any business with me he can write."
+
+I repeated this and then took up my cap to go. Mr. Ravenor put down his
+pen and walked with me to the door. I had expected that he would have
+offered me his hand, but he did not. He nodded, kindly enough and held
+the door open while I passed out. So I went.
+
+As I walked across the great hall on my way out I came face to face with
+Lady Silchester, who was thoughtfully contemplating one of a long line of
+oil-paintings dark with age, yet vivid still with the marvellous
+colouring of an old master. To my surprise she stopped me.
+
+"Are you a judge of pictures, Mr. Morton?" she asked. "I was wondering
+whether that was a genuine Reynolds." And she pointed to the picture
+which she had been examining.
+
+I shook my head, briefly acknowledging that I knew nothing whatever about
+them. I was quite conscious at the time that the question was only a
+feint. What was a farmer's son likely to know of the old masters?
+
+"Ah, never mind!" she remarked, shutting up her eyeglasses with a snap.
+"I can ask Mr. Ravenor this evening. I thought, perhaps, that as you were
+here so often he might have talked to you about them. I know that he is
+very proud of his pictures."
+
+"Had I been here often he might have done so," I answered. "As it
+happens, however, this is my first visit to Ravenor Castle."
+
+"Indeed? And yet Mr. Ravenor seems to take a great interest in you. Why?"
+
+I hesitated and wished that I could get away; but Lady Silchester was
+standing immediately in front of me.
+
+"Your ladyship will pardon me," I said, "but might not your question be
+better addressed to Mr. Ravenor?"
+
+She bit her lip and moved haughtily to one side. I made a movement as
+though to pass her, but she turned suddenly and prevented me.
+
+"Mr. Morton," she said, a little nervously, "my brother said that you
+were going to Dr. Randall's, I believe?"
+
+I admitted that such was the fact.
+
+"I daresay you know that my son is there," she continued, "and I am
+afraid he's not behaving exactly as he should. Of course, we don't hear
+anything definite; but Cecil is very good-natured, easily led into
+anything, and I am a little doubtful about his companions there. Now, Mr.
+Morton, you're not much more than a boy yourself, of course; but you
+don't look as though you would care for the sort of thing that I'm afraid
+Cecil gets led into. I do wish that you and he could be friends, and
+that--that--"
+
+She broke off, as though expecting me to say something, and I felt a
+little awkward.
+
+"It's very kind of you to think so well of me, when you don't know
+anything about me," I said, twirling my cap in my hands; "but you forget
+that I am only a farmer's son, and perhaps your son would not care to be
+friends with me."
+
+"My son, whatever his faults may be, has all the instincts of a
+gentleman," Lady Silchester answered proudly; "and if he liked you for
+yourself, it would make no difference, even if you were a tradesman's
+son. Promise me that, if you have the opportunity, you will do what you
+can?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I'll promise that, with pleasure!" I assured her.
+
+Lady Silchester smiled, and while the smile lasted I thought that I had
+never seen a more beautiful woman. Then she held out a delicate little
+hand, sparkling with rings, and placed it in mine, which in those days
+was as brown as a berry and not very soft.
+
+"Thank you so much, Mr. Morton."
+
+She looked up at me quite kindly for a moment. Then suddenly her manner
+completely--changed. She withdrew her eyes from my face, with a slight
+flush in her cheeks, and turned abruptly away.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Morton. I am much obliged to you for your promise,"
+she said, in a colder tone.
+
+I drew myself up, unconscious of having said or done anything which could
+possibly offend her, and feeling boyishly hurt at her change of manner.
+
+"Good evening, Lady Silchester," I answered, with all the dignity I could
+command. Then I turned away and left the Castle.
+
+I walked down the broad avenue slowly, casting many glances behind me at
+the vast, gloomy pile, around which the late evening mists were rising
+from the damp ground. Many lights were twinkling from the upper windows
+and from the east wing, where the servants' quarters were situated, but
+the lower part of the building lay in a deep obscurity, unilluminated,
+save by one faint light from Mr. Ravenor's study. There seemed something
+unnatural, almost ghostly, about the place, which chilled while it
+fascinated me.
+
+What was that? I stood suddenly still in the middle of the drive and
+listened. A faint, muffled cry, which seemed to me at first to be a human
+cry, had broken the deep evening stillness. I held my breath and remained
+quite motionless, with strained hearing. There was no repetition of it,
+no other sound. I was puzzled; more than half inclined to be alarmed. It
+might have been the crying of a hare, or the squealing of a rabbit caught
+by a stoat. But my first impression had been a strong one, improbable
+though it seemed. Poachers, however daring, would scarcely be likely to
+invade the closely-guarded inner grounds, where the preserves were fewer
+and the risk of capture far greater than outside the park. Besides, there
+had been no discharge of firearms, no commotion, no loud cries; only that
+one muffled, despairing moan. What could it mean?
+
+A steep ascent lay before me. After a moment's hesitation I hurried
+forward and did not pause until I reached the summit and had clear view
+around through the hazy twilight.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+                      A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.
+
+
+Far away below me--for Ravenor Castle stood on the highest point in the
+country--a dull-red glow in the sky, and many twinkling lights stretched
+far and wide, marked the place where a great town lay. On my right hand
+was a smooth stretch of green turf, dotted all over with thickly growing
+spreading oak trees. On the left was a straggling plantation, bounded by
+a low greystone wall, which sloped down gradually to one of the
+bracken-covered, disused slate-quarries, with which the neighbourhood
+abounded.
+
+Breathless, I stood still and looked searchingly around. Save in the
+immediate vicinity, the fast falling night had blotted out the view,
+reducing fields, woods, and rocks to one blurred chaotic mass. But where
+my eye could pierce the darkness I could see no sign of any moving
+object. By degrees my apprehension grew less strong. The cry, if it had
+not been wholly a trick of the imagination, must have been the cry of
+some animal. I drew a long breath of relief and moved forward again.
+
+Immediately in front of me the avenue curved through a small plantation
+of fir trees, which, growing thick and black on either side, made it
+appear almost as though I were confronted with a tunnel; around its mouth
+the darkness was intense, but my eyesight, always good, had by this time
+become quite accustomed to the uncertain light, and just as I was
+entering it I fancied that I could see something moving only a few yards
+in front of me. I stopped short at once and waited, peering forwards into
+the gloom with straining eyes and beating heart. My suspense, though
+keen, was not of long duration, for almost immediately the dark shape
+resolved itself into the figure of a man moving swiftly towards me.
+
+My first impulse was, I am afraid, to turn and run for it, my next to
+give the advancing figure as wide a berth as possible. With that idea I
+stepped swiftly on one side and leaned right back against the ring fence
+which bordered the drive. But I was too late, or too clumsy in my
+movements, to escape notice. With a quick, startled exclamation, the man
+whom I had nearly run into stopped and, just at that moment the moon,
+which had been struggling up from behind a thick mass of angry clouds,
+shone feebly out and showed me the white, scared face of Mr. Ravenor's
+secretary.
+
+"Good heavens!"
+
+It seemed to me as though the ejaculation was hurled out from those
+trembling lips. Then, with a sudden start, he recovered himself, and so
+changed was his manner that I could almost have fancied that his first
+emotion of terror had been imagination on my part.
+
+"Am I so formidable that you should leap out of my way as though you had
+seen a ghost?" he said, with a short laugh. "Come, come; a young man of
+your size should have more pluck than that."
+
+I felt rather ashamed of myself, but I answered him as carelessly as
+possible.
+
+"I don't think I was any more startled than you were. We came upon one
+another suddenly, and it's a very dark night."
+
+"Dark! Dark is not the word. This part of the drive is a veritable
+Hades."
+
+"By-the-bye, Mr. Marx," I remarked, "I fancied that I heard a cry a few
+min----"
+
+"A cry! What sort of a cry?" he interrupted sharply, in an altered tone.
+
+"Well, it sounded to me very much like the moan of a man in pain," I
+explained, looking half fearfully around. "Of course, it might have been
+a hare, but it was wonderfully like a human voice. Listen! Can't you hear
+something now?" I cried, laying my hand upon his arm.
+
+We stood close together in silence, listening intently. A faint wind had
+sprung up, and was sighing mournfully through the trees, which were
+soaked and weighed down by the heavy rain. Drip, drip, drip. At every
+sigh of the breeze a little shower of rain-drops fell pattering on to the
+soddened leaves and the melancholy music was resumed.
+
+It was altogether very depressing and I was palpably shivering.
+
+"I can hear nothing," he said, with chattering teeth. "It must have been
+your fancy, or a hare squealing, perhaps."
+
+"I suppose so," I admitted, glad enough to be forced into this
+conclusion.
+
+"I wouldn't say anything about it at the lodge," he remarked, preparing
+to depart. "Anderson is as nervous as a cat already."
+
+"All right, I won't. Good night."
+
+"You're not frightened, are you?" he asked. "If you like, I'll walk down
+to the lodge with you."
+
+"Not in the least, thanks," I answered, a little indignantly. "I thought
+that noise was queer, that's all. Good night."
+
+I walked swiftly away, listening all the time, but hearing no unusual
+sound. In a few minutes I reached the gates and found Anderson waiting
+about outside. He let me through at once.
+
+"May I go in here for a minute?" I asked, pointing to the room in which I
+had been kept waiting on my way up to the Castle. "I have a message to
+give you from Mr. Ravenor."
+
+"Certainly, sir," he answered, opening the door. I stepped inside, half
+expecting to see the man whom Mr. Ravenor had refused to receive; but it
+was quite empty.
+
+"So Mr. Richards has decided not to wait, after all?" I remarked, looking
+round. "He was wise. I'm sure Mr. Ravenor wouldn't have seen him."
+
+"Yes, sir," the man answered; "he slipped out without leaving any message
+or anything, while I had gone across the way for some coal. I was a bit
+taken aback when I returned and found the place empty, for he'd been
+swearing ever so a minute or two before that he'd see Mr. Ravenor, or
+stop here for ever."
+
+"He can't have gone on up to the Castle, can he?" I asked, looking
+around.
+
+The man shook his head confidently.
+
+"Impossible, sir! The gates were locked and the keys in my pocket, and
+there are no windows to this room, you see, on the Castle side."
+
+"But there is a door," I said, pointing to the upper end of the
+apartment.
+
+"Go and look at it, sir," Anderson answered, smiling.
+
+I did so and examined it closely. There were no bolts, but it was
+fastened with a particularly strong patent lock.
+
+"Who keeps the key?" I inquired.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor, sir. I haven't got one at all. You were saying something
+about a message?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Ravenor was annoyed with you for letting Lady Silchester
+through, but he has decided to overlook it this time. You need not go up
+to the Castle for your money."
+
+The man was evidently pleased.
+
+"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said warmly. "That's
+good news and no mistake. It isn't a place that one would care to lose."
+
+"Well, good night, Anderson. Oh, I say," I added, turning back on a
+sudden impulse, "how long is it since Mr. Marx was here?"
+
+Anderson looked puzzled.
+
+"Mr. Marx, sir! Why, I haven't seen him all day!"
+
+"What!" I exclaimed.
+
+"I haven't seen him all day. He hasn't been here," the man repeated.
+
+I stood still, breathless, full of swiftly rising but vague suspicions.
+
+"Not seen him to-day! Why, I met him in the avenue just now," I declared.
+
+"I daresay, sir," the man remarked quietly. "He often walks down this
+way. In fact, he does most evenings before dinner. Queer sort he is, and
+no mistake."
+
+The man's words changed the current of my thoughts, and my half-conceived
+suspicions faded away almost before they had gathered shape. I made some
+trifling remark and started homewards.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+                         THE CLOUD BETWEEN US.
+
+
+It was late when I reached home and, from the darkness in all the
+windows, I concluded that my mother and the one country domestic who
+comprised our little household had already retired. My hand was raised to
+rap at the closed door, when it occurred to me that I might just as well
+effect an entrance without disturbing anyone. Our sitting-room window
+opened on to the front garden in which I stood and was seldom fastened,
+so I stole softly over the sodden grass and pressed the sash upwards. It
+yielded easily to my touch and, gently raising myself on to the low stone
+window-sill, I vaulted into the room.
+
+At first I thought it was, as I had expected to find it, empty. But it
+was not so. Through the open window by which I had just entered the
+moonlight was streaming in, casting long, fantastic rays upon the
+well-worn carpet and across the quaint, old-fashioned furniture and on
+the white tablecloth, on which my homely evening meal had been left
+prepared. But my eyes never rested for a moment on any of these familiar
+objects, scarcely even noticed them, for another and a stranger sight
+held me spellbound. At the farther end of the room, where the shadows
+hung darkest and the moonbeams but feebly penetrated, was the kneeling
+figure of a woman.
+
+Her perfectly black dress threw the ghastly hue of her strained, wild
+face into startling prominence, and her slender arms were stretched
+passionately upwards in a gesture full of intense dramatic pathos. Her
+eyes were fixed upon a small ebony crucifix which hung against the wall,
+and the words were bursting from her white, trembling lips, but whether
+of prayer or confession, I could not, or, rather, would not, hear, for I
+closed my eyes and the sound of her voice reached me only in an
+indistinct moan. It was a sight which has lived in my memory and will
+never fade.
+
+Since that awful night in Rothland Wood, my mother's behaviour towards me
+had been a source of constant and painful wonder. She had become an
+enigma, and an enigma which I somehow felt that it would be well for me
+not to attempt to solve.
+
+But even at the times when my loveless surroundings and her coldness had
+plunged me into the lowest depths of depression, it had never been an
+altogether hopeless state, for somehow I had always felt that her
+coldness was not the coldness of indifference, but rather an effort of
+will, and that a time would come when she would cast it off and be to me
+again the mother of my earlier recollections. But the change was long in
+coming.
+
+She was a devout Roman Catholic--a religion in which I had not been
+brought up--and in all weathers and at all times of the year, she paid
+long and frequent visits to the monastery chapel over the hills. But to
+see her as she was now was a revelation to me. I had seen her pray
+before, but never like this. She had always seemed to me more of a martyr
+than a sinner and her prayers more the prayers of reverent devotion than
+of passionate supplication. But her attitude at this moment, her wild,
+haggard face, and imploring eyes, were full of revelation to me. Another
+possible explanation of her lonely, joyless life and deep religious
+devotion flashed in upon me. Might it not be the dreary expiation, the
+hard penance of her church meted out for sin?
+
+Half fearing to disturb her, I remained for a brief while silent, but, as
+the minutes went on, the sight of her agony was too much for me and I
+cried out to her:
+
+"Mother, I am here. I did not know that you were up! I came in through
+the window!"
+
+At the first sound of my appealing tones her face changed, as though
+frozen suddenly from passionate expressiveness to cold marble. Slowly she
+rose to her feet and confronted me.
+
+"Mother, are you in trouble?" I said softly, moving nearer to her;
+"cannot I share your sorrow? Cannot I comfort you? Why am I shut out of
+your life so? Tell me this great trouble of yours and let me share it."
+
+For many years I had longed to say these words to her, but the cold
+impressiveness of her manner had checked them often upon my lips and
+thrust them back to my aching heart. Now, when a great sorrow filled her
+face with a softer light and loosened for a moment its hard, rigid lines,
+I dared to yield to the impulse which I had so often felt--and, alas! in
+vain--in vain!
+
+Keener agony, deeper disappointment, I have never felt. Coldness and
+indifference had been hard to bear, but what came now was worse. She
+shrank back from me--shrank back, with her hands outstretched towards me
+and her head averted.
+
+"Philip, I did not know that you were here. I cannot talk to you now. Go
+to your room. To-morrow--to-morrow!"
+
+Her voice died away, but her sudden weakness inspired me with no hope,
+for it was a physical weakness only. There were no signs of softening in
+her face, no answering tenderness in her tones. So what could I do but
+go?
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+                     A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.
+
+
+It was eleven o'clock on the following morning. I had been reading in the
+garden for some time, and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when
+a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate, and Mr. Ravenor's
+servant--the man who had conducted me from the lodge to the Castle--was
+shown into the house. I went to him at once and he handed me a note.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir," he said respectfully.
+
+I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox commencement):
+
+"Before going to Dr. Randall's there are a few things which you are not
+likely to have which you will find necessary. Remember that it is part of
+the education which I intend for you that you should associate with the
+other pupils on equal terms. Therefore, be so good as to go into
+Torchester with Reynolds and place yourself entirely in his hands. He has
+my full instructions.--R."
+
+I folded the note up and put it into my pocket.
+
+"Am I to come with you now?" I asked.
+
+"If you please, sir."
+
+I went upstairs to get ready and in a few minutes was prepared to start.
+The groom offered me the reins, but I declined them and mounted instead
+to the vacant seat by his side, which Reynolds had silently relinquished
+to me.
+
+Torchester was scarcely a dozen miles from the farm, but, nevertheless,
+this was my first visit to it. Many a time I had looked down from Beacon
+Hill upon the wide-spreading, dirty-coloured cloud of smoke from its tall
+factory chimneys, which seemed like a marring blot upon the fair,
+peaceful stretch of country around, and by night at the dull red glow in
+the sky and the myriads of twinkling lights which showed me where it
+stood. But neither by day nor night had the scene been an attractive one
+for me. I had felt no curiosity to enter it. I had never even cared to
+figure to myself what it would be like.
+
+So now, for the first time in my life, I found myself driving through the
+streets of a large manufacturing town. It was the dinner-hour and on all
+sides the factories were disgorging streams of unhealthy-looking men and
+women and even children. The tramcars and omnibuses were crowded, the
+busy streets were lined with swiftly rolling carriages, smart-looking
+men, and gaily-dressed girls and women. Within a few yards I saw types of
+men and women so different that it seemed impossible that they could be
+of the same species.
+
+"This is the 'Bell,' sir, where we generally put up," remarked Reynolds,
+at my elbow. "You will have some lunch, sir, before we go into the town?"
+
+I shook my head, but he was quietly though respectfully insistent. So I
+let him have his way and allowed myself to be piloted into a long, dark
+coffee-room, where my orders, considerably augmented by Reynolds in
+transit, were received by a waiter whom we discovered fast asleep in an
+easy-chair, and who seemed very much surprised to see us.
+
+Afterwards we went out in the town, Reynolds and I, and began our
+shopping. I was measured at the principal tailor's for more clothes than
+it seemed possible for me to wear out in a lifetime, from riding-breeches
+to a dress-coat; and the quantity and variety of hats, boots, shirts, and
+ties which Reynolds put down as indispensable filled me with half-amused
+astonishment, although I had made up my mind to be surprised at nothing.
+But our shopping was not finished even when Reynolds, to my inexpressible
+relief, declared my wardrobe to be as complete as could be furnished by a
+provincial town. The gunsmith's, the sporting emporium, and the
+horse-repository were all visited in turn. And when we returned to the
+hotel about six o'clock I was the possessor of two guns, which were a
+perfect revelation to me, a cricket-bat, a tennis racquet, a small
+gymnasium, a set of foils, and, besides other things, a stylish,
+well-built dogcart and a sound, useful cob.
+
+I sank into an easy-chair in the coffee-room and, refusing to listen to
+Reynold's suggestion as to the propriety of dining before setting out
+homewards, ordered a cup of tea. While the waiter had left the room to
+fetch it I strolled to the window to look out at the weather, which had
+been threatening for some time and on my way I discovered that I was not
+alone in the apartment. A man was seated at one of the further-most
+tables, dining, and as I passed he looked up and surveyed me with a cool,
+critical stare, which changed suddenly into a pleasant smile of
+recognition.
+
+"Mr. Morton, isn't it?" he said, holding out his hand. "Mr. Ravenor told
+me that I should probably come across you."
+
+I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot to accept the offered hand.
+Mr. Ravenor's secretary was the last person whom I should have expected
+to find eating a solitary dinner in a Torchester hotel.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+                         A TETE-A-TETE DINNER.
+
+
+"What have you been up to in Torchester, eh? Shopping?" Mr. Marx
+inquired. I saw no reason for concealing anything from him, nor did I do
+so. Rather awkwardly I told him of Mr. Ravenor's note to me, and that I
+had been with Reynolds all the afternoon. Perhaps I spoke with a little
+enthusiasm of our somewhat elaborate purchases. At any rate, when I had
+finished, he laughed softly to himself--a long, noiseless, but not
+unpleasant laugh.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I met you," he said, his lips still twitching, as though
+with amusement. "Sit down and have some dinner with me."
+
+I hesitated, for just at that moment Mr. Ravenor's words concerning his
+secretary flashed into my mind. Besides, I was not at all sure that I
+liked him. But, on the other hand, what alternative was there for me?
+What excuse could I find for declining so simple an invitation? In a few
+minutes the waiter would appear with the modest meal which I had ordered,
+and it would be impossible for me to order him to set it down in another
+part of the room, or to leave it and walk out of the hotel, just because
+this man was there. To do so would be to tell him as plainly as possible
+that I had some particular desire for avoiding him, and he would
+instantly divine that I was obeying a behest of Mr. Ravenor's. No; it was
+unavoidable. I had better accept his invitation, and, briefly, I did so.
+
+"That's right," he said pleasantly. "It's a queer fancy of mine, but I
+hate dining alone. Waiter, bring some more soup at once. This gentleman
+will dine with me."
+
+During dinner our conversation was interrupted. Hat in hand, Reynolds was
+standing before us, looking at Mr. Marx and then at me and the table
+before us with a look on his face which I did not altogether understand,
+although it annoyed me excessively. He spoke to me:
+
+"The dogcart has come round, sir."
+
+I half rose and threw down my napkin, though with some reluctance. I held
+out my hand regretfully to Mr. Marx, but he refused to take it.
+
+"You needn't go home with Reynolds unless you like," he said. "I have a
+brougham from the Castle here, and I can drop you at the farm on my way
+home."
+
+I hesitated, for the temptation to stay was strong. In fact, I should
+have accepted at once, only that Reynolds's grave, frowning face somehow
+reminded me of Mr. Ravenor's injunction. Reynolds, like a fool, settled
+the matter.
+
+"I think Mr. Morton had better return with me, sir," he said to Mr. Marx.
+"If you are ready, sir," he added to me. "The mare gets very fidgety if
+she's kept waiting."
+
+My boyish vanity was wounded to the quick by the style of his address,
+and his unwise assumption of authority, and I answered quickly:
+
+"You'd better be off at once, then, Reynolds. I shall accept Mr. Marx's
+offer."
+
+He was evidently uneasy and made one more effort.
+
+"I think Mr. Ravenor would prefer your returning with me, sir," he said.
+
+Mr. Marx had been leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee somewhat
+absently, and to all appearance altogether indifferent as to which way I
+should decide. He looked up now, however, and addressed Reynolds for the
+first time.
+
+"How the deuce do you know anything about what your master would prefer?"
+he said coolly.
+
+Reynolds made no answer, but looked appealingly at me. I chose not to see
+him.
+
+"I should imagine," Mr. Marx continued, leaning back in his chair again
+and deliberately stirring his coffee, "that if Mr. Ravenor has any choice
+about the matter at all, which seems to me very unlikely, he would prefer
+Mr. Morton's riding home in safety with a dry skin. Listen!"
+
+We did so, and at that moment a fierce gust of wind drove a very deluge
+of rain against the shaking window-panes.
+
+"That decides it!" I exclaimed. "I'll accept your offer, Mr. Marx, if you
+don't mind."
+
+"By far the more sensible thing to do," he remarked carelessly. "Have a
+glass of wine, Reynolds, before you start. You've a wet drive before
+you."
+
+Reynolds shook his head, and, wishing me a respectful good evening,
+withdrew.
+
+Mr. Marx watched Reynolds leave the room and then shrugged his shoulders
+slightly.
+
+"Honest, but stupid. Well, now you're in my charge, Morton, I must see
+whether I can't amuse you somehow. Ever been to the theatre?"
+
+I could not help a slight blush as I admitted that I had never even seen
+the outside of one.
+
+Mr. Marx looked at me after my admission as though I were some sort of
+natural curiosity.
+
+"Well, we'll go if you like," he said. "There's a very good one here, I
+believe, for the provinces, and it will be a change for you."
+
+"It will make us very late, won't it?" I ventured to say.
+
+"Not necessarily. I suppose it will be over about half-past ten and the
+carriage can meet us at the door."
+
+I said no more, for fear that he would take me at my word and give up the
+idea of going. In a few minutes Mr. Marx called for his bill and settled
+it, and, glancing at his watch, declared that it was time to be off. The
+waiter called a hansom, and we drove through the busy streets, Mr. Marx
+leisurely smoking a fragrant cigarette, and I leaning forward, watching
+the hurrying throngs of people, some pleasure-seekers, but mostly just
+released from their daily toil at the factory or workshop.
+
+It was a wet night and the streets seemed like a perfect sea of
+umbrellas. The rain was coming down in sheets, beating against the closed
+glass front of our cab and dimming its surface, until it became
+impossible to see farther than the horse's head. I leaned back by Mr.
+Marx's side with a sigh, and found that he had been watching me with an
+amused smile.
+
+"Busy little place, Torchester," he remarked.
+
+"It seems so to me," I acknowledged. "I have never been in any other town
+except Mellborough."
+
+"Lucky boy!" he exclaimed, half lightly, half in earnest. "You have all
+the pleasures of life before you, with the sauce of novelty to help you
+to relish them. What would I not give never to have seen Paris or Vienna,
+or never to have been in love, or tasted quails on toast! But here we are
+at the theatre!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+                            MISS MABEL FAY.
+
+
+The cab pulled up with a jerk underneath a long row of brightly burning
+lights. We dismounted, and I followed Mr. Marx up a broad flight of
+thickly carpeted stairs into a semi-circular corridor draped with crimson
+hangings and dimly lit with rose-coloured lights. A faint perfume hung
+about the place, and from below came the soft melody of a rhythmical
+German waltz which the orchestra was playing. I almost held my breath,
+with a curious mixture of expectation and excitement, as I followed Mr.
+Marx and an attendant down the corridor.
+
+The latter threw open the door of what appeared to be a little room and
+we entered. Mr. Marx at once moved to the front, and, throwing the
+curtains back, beckoned me to his side. I obeyed him and looked around in
+wonder.
+
+It happened to be a fashionable night and the place was crammed. On the
+level with us--we were in a box--were rows of men and women in evening
+attire; above, a somewhat disorderly mob in the gallery; and below, a
+dense throng--at least, it seemed so to me--of seated people were
+betraying their impatience for the performance by a continual stamping of
+feet and other rumbling noises.
+
+To a regular playgoer it was a very ordinary sight indeed; to me it was a
+revelation. I stood at the front of the box, looking round, until Mr.
+Marx, smiling, pushed a chair up to me and bade me sit down. Then I
+turned towards the stage and remained with my eyes fixed upon the
+curtain, longing impatiently for it to rise.
+
+Alas for my expectations! When at last the time came it was a charming
+picture indeed upon which I looked, but how different! A group of girls
+in short skirts and picturesque peasant attire moving lightly about the
+stage and singing; a man in uniform making passionate love to one of
+them, who was coyly motioning him away with her hand and bidding him stay
+with her eyes. A pretty picture it all made and a dazzling one. But what
+did it all mean?
+
+Mr. Marx had been watching my face, and leaned over towards me with a
+question upon his lips.
+
+"What does it all mean?" I whispered. "This isn't a play, is it? I don't
+remember one like it."
+
+"A play? No; it's a comic opera," he answered.
+
+I turned away and watched the performance again. I suppose I looked a
+little disappointed; but by degrees my disappointment died away. It was
+all so fresh to me.
+
+Towards the close of the first act, in connection with one of the
+incidents, several fresh characters--amongst them the girl who was taking
+the principal part--appeared on the stage. There was a little round of
+applause and I was on the point of turning to make some remark to Mr.
+Marx, when I heard a sharp, half-suppressed exclamation escape from his
+lips and felt his hot breath upon my cheek.
+
+I looked at him in surprise. He had risen from his chair and was standing
+close to my elbow, leaning over me, with eyes fixed upon the centre of
+the stage and an incredulous look on his pale face. Instinctively I
+followed the direction of his rapt gaze. It seemed to me to be bent upon
+the girl who had last appeared, and who, with the skirts of her
+dark-green riding-habit gathered up in her hand, was preparing to sing.
+
+He recovered from his surprise, or whatever emotion it was, very quickly,
+and broke into a short laugh. But I noticed that he pushed his chair
+farther back into the box and drew the curtains a little more forward.
+
+"Is anything the matter, Mr. Marx?" I asked.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and frowned a little.
+
+"Nothing at all. I fancied that I recognised a face upon the stage, but I
+was mistaken. Good-looking girl, isn't she--the one singing, I mean?"
+
+I thought that good-looking was a very feeble mode of expression, and I
+said so emphatically. In fact, I thought her the most beautiful and most
+graceful creature I had ever seen; and, as the evening wore on, I found
+myself applauding her songs so vigorously that she glanced, smiling, into
+our box, and Mr. Marx, who was still sitting behind the curtain, looked
+at me with an amused twitching of the lips.
+
+"Morton, Morton, this won't do!" he exclaimed, laughing. "You'll be
+falling head over ears in love with that young woman presently."
+
+I became in a moment very red and uncomfortable, for she had just cast a
+smiling glance up at us and Mr. Marx had intercepted it. I was both
+ashamed and angry with myself for having applauded so loudly as to have
+become noticeable; but Mr. Marx seemed to think nothing of it.
+
+"There is a better way of showing your appreciation of that young lady's
+talents--Miss Mabel Fay, I see her name is--than by applause. See these
+flowers?"
+
+I turned round and saw a large bouquet of white azaleas and roses, which
+the attendant must have brought in.
+
+"You can give them to her if you like," Mr. Marx suggested.
+
+I shook my head immediately, fully determined that I would do nothing of
+the sort. But Mr. Marx was equally determined that I should. It was quite
+the correct thing, he assured me; he had sent for them on purpose and I
+had only to stand up and throw them to her. While he talked he was
+writing on a plain card, which he pinned to the flowers and then thrust
+them into my hand.
+
+How it happened I don't quite know, but Mr. Marx had his own way. It was
+the close of the act and everyone was applauding Mabel Fay's song. She
+stood facing the house, bowing and smiling, and her laughing eyes met
+mine for a moment, then rested upon the flowers which I was holding and
+finally glanced back into mine full of mute invitation.
+
+I raised my hand. Mr. Marx whispered, "Now!" And the bouquet was lying at
+her feet. She picked it up gracefully, shot a coquettish glance up
+towards me, and then the curtain fell, and I sat back in my chair,
+feeling quite convinced that I had made an utter fool of myself.
+
+About the middle of the third act Mr. Marx rose and walked to the door.
+Holding it open in his hand for a moment, he paused and looked round.
+
+"I am going to leave you for a few minutes," he said. "I shall not be
+very long."
+
+Then he went and I heard him walk down the corridor.
+
+An hour passed and he did not return. The last act came, the curtain fell
+and, with a sigh of regret, I rose to go. Still he had not come back.
+
+I put on my coat and lingered about, uncertain what to do. Then there
+came a knock at the box-door, but, instead of Mr. Marx, an attendant
+entered, and handed me a note. I tore it open and read, hastily scrawled
+in pencil:
+
+"I am round at the back of the house. Come to me. The bearer will show
+you the way.--M."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+              BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE TORCHESTER THEATRE.
+
+
+I followed my guide to the end of the corridor, through a door which he
+unlocked and carefully locked again, and past the side of the deserted
+stage, on which I paused for a moment to gaze with wonder at the array of
+ropes and pulleys and runners which the carpenters were busy putting to
+rights, and at the canvas-covered, unlit auditorium, which looked
+now--strange transformation--like the mouth of some dark cavern. After
+picking our way carefully, we reached a door on which was painted
+"Manager's Room." A voice from inside bade us enter and I was ushered in.
+
+Mr. Marx was seated in an easy-chair, talking somewhat earnestly to a
+slim, dark young man, who was leaning against the mantelpiece. An older
+man was writing at a table at the other end of the room, with his back to
+the door.
+
+Mr. Marx welcomed me with a nod, and introduced me briefly to the young
+man by his side:
+
+"Mr. Morton--Mr. Isaacs. Mr. Isaacs is the manager of the company who are
+playing here."
+
+Mr. Isaacs turned an unmistakably Jewish face towards me and extended his
+hand.
+
+"Glad to meet you, Mr. Morton! Hope you liked the performance," he said,
+with a smile, which disclosed the whole of a very white set of teeth.
+"Very fair, wasn't it? Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+I replied that I had enjoyed it exceedingly, and looked at Mr. Marx,
+wondering how long he meant to stay. I had taken a sudden but strong
+dislike to Mr. Isaacs.
+
+"Shall you be very long, Mr. Marx?" I asked.
+
+"I have sent for the carriage," he answered; "it will be here in ten
+minutes."
+
+It seemed to me that there was something a little strange in Mr. Marx's
+manner and the way in which he kept glancing towards the door.
+
+Just at that moment someone knocked at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried Mr. Isaacs.
+
+A lady obeyed his summons and swept into the room with a most unnecessary
+rustling of silk skirts. Mr. Isaacs welcomed her effusively.
+
+"Miss Fay, your most humble servant!" he exclaimed, bowing low. "Let me
+introduce two of my friends, Mr. Morton and Mr. Marx."
+
+The lady put out her ungloved hand, covered with a profusion of rings.
+
+"I know this young gentleman by sight," she said, in a loud and rather
+high-pitched tone. "You threw me those lovely flowers, didn't you? So
+good of you--awfully good! I've sent them home by my young woman."
+
+I stammered out some incoherent response and heartily wished myself a
+hundred miles away. What a disenchantment it was! I looked at her thickly
+pencilled eyebrows, at the smeared powder and paint which lay thick upon
+her face: at her bold, staring eyes, the crow's-feet underneath, which
+art had done what it could to conceal and failed; at the masses of yellow
+hair, which intuitively I knew to be false, and I felt my cheeks burn
+with shame that I should have been tricked into admiring her for a
+moment. Unfortunately, she put down my embarrassment to another cause,
+for it seemed partly to gratify, partly to amuse her.
+
+"My young friend and I admired your performance equally, Miss Fay,
+although, perhaps, he was the more demonstrative," said Mr. Marx, coming
+forward. "Will you accept the congratulations and thanks of a provincial
+who seldom has the pleasure of seeing such acting or hearing such a
+voice?"
+
+She thanked him with an affected little laugh, which suddenly died away
+and she looked into his face intently.
+
+"Haven't we met before?" she asked curiously. "There is something about
+your face or voice which seems familiar to me."
+
+He returned her gaze steadily, but shook his head with a slight smile.
+
+"I am afraid I may not claim that honour," he said. "If we had there
+could not possibly have been any uncertainty in my mind about it. It
+would have been a treasured memory."
+
+She looked doubtful, but turned away carelessly.
+
+"I suppose it is my mistake, then," she remarked. "You certainly seem to
+remind me of someone whom I have known. Fancy, perhaps. Mr. Isaacs, I
+came to beg for your escort home." (Here she shot a quick glance at me,
+which made my cheeks hot again.) "I have sent Julia on, and I can't go
+alone, can I, Mr. Morton?" she asked, turning to me.
+
+"I--I suppose not," I answered, devoutly wishing that Mr. Marx would take
+his departure. But, as though on purpose, he had gone to the other end of
+the room and had his back turned towards me.
+
+There was a brief silence. Mr. Isaacs glanced at me, whistled softly to
+himself, and then strolled slowly over to the window, as though to see
+what sort of a night it was. Miss Fay glanced at me impatiently, with a
+slight contraction in her eyebrows. I longed desperately to get away, but
+for the life of me could think of no excuse.
+
+"You won't offer your escort, then, Mr. Morton?" she whispered.
+
+"I can't. I don't know the town--never was here before--and we have a
+twelve-mile drive before us. We are expecting the carriage every moment.
+Ah, there it is!" I added, with a sudden sense of relief, as I heard the
+sound of horses' feet stamping and pawing outside and the jingling of
+harness. "Mr. Marx, Burdett has come!" I called out.
+
+He looked up, frowning.
+
+"All right; there's no hurry!" he said. "If you're not ready, pray don't
+study me. I should enjoy a cigar and a brandy-and-soda down at the 'Bell'
+before we start."
+
+"I'm quite ready, thanks," I answered slowly, for his words and manner
+had given me something to think about. "If you don't mind, I should like
+to be getting away. It's a long way, you know."
+
+"Oh, pray don't let me detain you!" Miss Fay exclaimed, tossing her head.
+"Mr. Isaacs, if you're ready, I am. Good-night, Mr. Marx; good-night, Mr.
+Morton!"
+
+She drew me a little on one side--a manoeuvre which I was powerless to
+prevent--and whispered in my ear:
+
+"You shy, stupid boy! There!"
+
+She shook hands with me again and left something in my palm. When they
+were gone and I was in the passage, I looked at it. It was a plain card
+and on it was hastily scribbled an address:
+
+          Miss Mabel Fay,
+                15, Queen Street.
+
+I felt my cheeks flush as I tore it into pieces and flung them on the
+ground. Then I followed Mr. Marx out to the carriage and, leaning back
+among the cushions by his side, I began seriously to consider an idea
+which every trifling incident during the latter part of the evening had
+pointed to; Mr. Marx had deliberately tried to lead me into making a fool
+of myself with Miss Mabel Fay. Why?
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+                        AT MIDNIGHT ON THE MOOR.
+
+
+We were more than half-way home before Mr. Marx broke a silence which was
+becoming oppressive.
+
+"Well, have you enjoyed your evening?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I have, and I'm very much obliged to you for taking me to the
+theatre," I added. After all, perhaps I was misjudging him. What possible
+motive could he have for being my enemy?
+
+"Oh, that's all right," he declared, carefully lighting a cigar and
+throwing the match out of the window. "I'm afraid you've had more than
+one illusion dispelled this evening, though," he went on, smiling. "You
+must have had plenty of time and opportunity, too, for weaving them, out
+here all your life. Have you never been away to visit your relations, or
+anything of that sort?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I don't believe I have any relations," I said. "I never heard of any. My
+father used to say that he was the last of his family."
+
+"But your mother? Surely you know some of her people?"
+
+"I have never even heard her speak of them," I answered shortly.
+
+"Strange! You don't happen to remember her maiden name, do you?"
+
+"I don't know that I ever heard it," I told him.
+
+I began to wish that Mr. Marx would choose some other topic of
+conversation. Doubtless, it was exceedingly kind of him to take so much
+interest in my affairs and his questions proceeded from perfectly genuine
+motives, but my inability to answer any of them was becoming a little
+embarrassing.
+
+"One more question I was going to ask you and it shall be the last," he
+said, as though divining my feeling. "Were you born here?"
+
+"I suppose so. I never heard that I was born anywhere else."
+
+There was another long silence and it seemed to me that Mr. Marx was very
+deep in thought. I was beginning to feel sleepy and, closing my eyes, I
+leaned right back among the soft, yielding cushions.
+
+It was one of the wildest and roughest nights of the year. Both the
+carriage-windows were streaming with raindrops, and we could hear the
+wind howling across the open country, and whistling mournfully among the
+leafless trees.
+
+We had accomplished about three-quarters of our journey and had just
+entered upon the blackest part of it. On either side of the road and
+running close up to it, without even the division of hedges, was a
+stretch of bare, open country, pleasant enough in summer time, but now a
+mere plain, on which were dotted about a few straggling plantations of
+sickly, stunted fir trees, among which the hurricane was making weird
+music.
+
+We were in the middle of this dreary region. Mr. Marx was still smoking
+his cigar, but with closed eyes, and was either dozing or deep in
+thought. I, with my share of the fur rug wrapped closely around my knees,
+was trying in vain to sleep--in vain, for my head was still in a whirl,
+after what had been for me such an exciting day.
+
+Exciting though it had been, however, its close was to be more so.
+Suddenly, without the least warning, we felt a sharp jerk, and heard the
+coachman calling out to his horses, who were plunging furiously. Mr. Marx
+and I both leaned forward, and, just as we did so, there was a tremendous
+crash of breaking glass, and, through the splintered carriage window, on
+the side nearest to him, came a heavy piece of rock, followed by a
+confused mass of stones and gravel and other debris.
+
+Mr. Marx leapt to his feet, with his hand on the door handle and the
+blood streaming from his forehead. Before he could open the door,
+however, a strange thing happened. Outside, half visible through the
+remains of the glass and half without any intervening obstruction,
+flashed for one single second the white, ghastly face of a man peering in
+upon us. It came and went so swiftly that I could gain only the very
+faintest idea of the features; but with Mr. Marx it seemed to be
+otherwise. Like a flash of lightning, a look passed across his face which
+has never died out of my memory. Every feature seemed to be dilated and
+shaken with a spasmodic agony of horrified recognition. For a moment he
+seemed struck helpless, with every power of movement and every nerve
+numbed. Then a low cry, such as I have never before or since heard from
+human throat, burst from his shaking lips and his right hand tore open
+his coat and sought his breast-pocket.
+
+The door of the carriage burst open as he sprang into the road like a
+wild animal, and long streaks of fire flashed from the gleaming revolver
+which he grasped in his hand--a lurid illumination which gave me sudden
+glimpses of his white, bleeding face as he stood in the road, firing
+barrel after barrel into the darkness.
+
+I jumped out and hurried to his side, looking eagerly around into the
+dark night and together we stood and listened in a breathless silence.
+Across the wild, open moor the wind came rushing towards us with a deep
+booming sound, and among the bare tree tops of a small plantation before
+us we heard it shrieking and yelling like the hellish laughter of an army
+of witches. The ink-black clouds lowering close above our heads were
+dissolving in a mad torrent of rain, and the darkness was so intense
+that, although we could hear the frantic plunging of the horses behind
+us, we could neither see them nor the carriage. The elements seemed to
+have declared themselves on the side of our mysterious assailant. The
+blackness of the night and the roaring of the wind and rain blotted out
+all our surroundings and deadened all sound save their own.
+
+"Wait here!" cried Mr. Marx, in a harsh, unnatural tone. And before I
+could open my mouth he had vanished out of sight and it seemed as though
+the black, yawning darkness had swallowed him up.
+
+For a while I stood without moving. Then a cry for help from the coachman
+behind and the renewed sound of struggling horses reminded me of their
+plight, and I groped my way back to the road again.
+
+I was only just in time. The horses, fine, powerful creatures, very
+nearly thoroughbred, were perfectly mad with fright, and the groom, who
+had been holding and striving to subdue them, was quite exhausted.
+Between us we managed to pacify them after a brief struggle, and as soon
+as I could find sufficient breath I began to question Burdett--who had
+stuck to his place on the box like an immovable statue--about the first
+cause of their alarm.
+
+"What was it they shied at first?" I asked. "Did you see anyone?"
+
+"Just catched a glimpse of the blackguard, sir, and that was all,"
+Burdett answered. "We were a-spinning along beautiful, for they knew as
+they were on their way home, them animals did, when, all of a sudden
+like, Dandy shies, and up goes the mare on her hind legs and as near as
+possible pitches me into the road. I slackened the reins and laid the
+whip across them, while Tom jumped down. And just then I saw a figure in
+the middle of the road and heard a crash through the carriage window.
+Tom, he'd catched hold of their heads by then, which was lucky; for when
+the firing began they was like mad creatures and I could never have held
+them. It's a mercy we aren't altogether smashed up, and no mistake. The
+Lord save me from ever being out wi' my 'osses again on such a night as
+this!"
+
+"You didn't see the face of the man who attacked us, then?" I asked
+eagerly.
+
+"Not being possessed of the eyes of a heagle or a cat, sir, I did not,"
+Burdett replied. "Just you look round and see what sort of a night it is.
+Why, I can only just make out your outline, sir; although I've been
+looking at you this five minutes, I can't see nothing of your face."
+
+"Neither did you, I suppose, Tom?" I asked the groom.
+
+"No, sir; nothing except just a black figure. Good thing that you was
+neither of you hurt, sir."
+
+"I'm not sure that Mr. Marx isn't," I answered; "his face was bleeding a
+good deal. I wish he'd come back."
+
+Never did time pass so slowly as then, when we waited in the storm and
+rain for Mr. Marx's return. It must have been nearly an hour before we
+heard him hailing us in the distance, and soon afterwards saw his figure
+loom out of the darkness close at hand. He was alone.
+
+Splashed from head to foot with mud, hatless, and with great streaks of
+blood clotted upon his forehead and cheeks, he presented at first a
+frightful figure. But his face had lost that dreadful expression of
+numbed horror which had made it for a moment so terrible to me, and, as
+he sank back breathless and exhausted, among the cushions, he even
+attempted a smile.
+
+"All in vain, you see," he said. "Couldn't find a single trace of anyone
+anywhere."
+
+"Are you much hurt, sir?" asked the groom, who was tying up the broken
+carriage-door.
+
+"Not at all. Only a scratch. Tell Burdett to drive home as fast as he can
+now, Tom, there's a good fellow."
+
+We were left together to talk over this strange affair. Mr. Marx seemed
+to have made up his mind about it already.
+
+"Without doubt," he said deliberately, "it was some tramp, desperate with
+want or drink, who made up his mind to play the highwayman. He started
+well, and then, seeing two of us instead of one, funked it and bolted. I
+don't think I ever had such a start in my life."
+
+"You came off the worst," I remarked, pointing to his forehead.
+
+"It wasn't that that upset me," he answered. "It was a horrible idea
+which flashed upon me just for a moment. The face which peered in at the
+window--you saw it--was horribly like the face of a man who is dead--whom
+I know to be dead. It gave me, just while the idea lasted, a sensation
+which I hope I shall never experience again as long as I live. It was
+ghastly."
+
+The face of the dead! It was not a cheerful thought. But I looked at the
+wrecked door and window of the carriage and felt immediately reassured.
+Our assailant, whoever he might have been, was no ghostly one. There was
+undeniable evidence of his material presence and strength in the
+shattered glass, the wrenched woodwork, and the wound on Mr. Marx's
+forehead.
+
+The carriage pulled up with a jerk. We had reached my home.
+
+"Hadn't you better come in and bathe your forehead, Mr. Marx?" I
+suggested hesitatingly.
+
+He shook his head and declined.
+
+"No, thanks. I'll get back to the Castle as soon as I can and doctor it
+myself. Good-bye, Morton. If I don't see you again before you go, I wish
+you every success at Mr. Randall's."
+
+I thanked him warmly, shook his offered hand, and, shutting the
+carriage-door, called out to Burdett to drive on. For a moment or two I
+stood in the road watching the lights as they rapidly grew fainter and
+fainter in the distance. Then I turned slowly up the path towards the
+house.
+
+Half-way there I stopped short and, holding my breath, listened intently.
+The wind had dropped and the rain had almost ceased, but the night was
+still as dark as pitch. I listened with strained ears and beating heart
+and soon I knew that I had not been mistaken. Coming down the hill
+between Rothland Wood gate and where I was, along the road by which we
+had just come, I could hear the faint, but nevertheless unmistakable,
+sound of light, running footsteps. Turning back, I stole softly down the
+path and stood in the middle of the road, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+                           A STRANGE ATTACK.
+
+
+It could not in reality have been more than a minute or two, although it
+seemed to me then a terribly long while, before I again heard the sound
+which had attracted my attention. When I did, it was quite close at hand,
+just at the beginning of the range of farm-buildings which skirted the
+road. There was no possibility of any mistake. The situation was
+sufficiently plain, at any rate. Scarcely fifty yards away a man was
+coming running towards me, either barefooted or with very soft shoes on;
+and it was past midnight, pitch dark, and a lonely road.
+
+Nearer and nearer the steps came, and my heart began to beat very fast
+indeed. At last, peering earnestly through the gloom, I made out the
+shadowy figure of a man only a yard or two away from me, running in the
+middle of the road, and a pair of wild, burning eyes glistened like fire
+against the dark background. I felt his warm, panting breath upon my
+cheek, heard a low, fierce cry, and a second later saw the figure give a
+spring sideways and vanish in the shade of the barn wall.
+
+I followed cautiously; but, although I groped about in all directions, I
+could see nothing. So I stood quite still with my back to the wall, and
+called out softly:
+
+"Who are you? Why are you hiding from me?"
+
+No answer. I tried again:
+
+"I don't want to hurt you. I won't do you any harm. I only want to know
+who you are, and what----"
+
+I never finished the sentence. I became suddenly conscious of two glaring
+eyes looking at me, like pieces of live coal, from a crumpled heap on the
+ground. Then there was a quick, panting snort, a spring, and I felt a
+man's long, nervous fingers clutching my throat. Gasping and choking for
+breath, I flung them off, only to find myself held as though in a vice by
+a pair of long arms. Drawing a deep breath, I braced myself up for the
+struggle with my unknown assailant.
+
+More than once I gave myself up for lost, for my opponent was evidently a
+powerful man, and seemed bent on strangling me. But, fiercely though he
+struggled at first, I soon saw that his strength was only the frenzy of
+nervous desperation and that it was fast leaving him. By degrees I began
+to gain the upper hand, and at last, with a supreme effort, I threw him
+on his back and, before he could recover himself, I had my knee upon his
+chest and drew a long breath of relief.
+
+I spoke to him, shouted, threatened, commanded; but he took no notice.
+Then I peered down close into his upturned face and fierce eyes, and the
+truth flashed upon me at once. I had been struggling with a madman, a
+hopeless, raving lunatic, and it was probably he who had made the attack
+upon us in the carriage.
+
+My first impulse was one of deep gratitude for my escape; then I began to
+wonder what on earth I was to do with him. He was lying like a log now,
+perfectly quiet; but I knew that I had only to relax my hold upon him and
+the struggle would begin again--perhaps terminate differently. I could
+not take him into the house, for there was no room from which he could
+not easily escape. The only place seemed to me to be the coach-house. It
+was dry and clean, with no windows, save at the top, and with a good
+strong padlock. The coach-house would do, I decided, if only I could get
+him there.
+
+I drew my handkerchief from my pocket, and, knotting it with my teeth,
+secured his hands as well as I could. Then, seizing him by the collar, I
+half dragged, half helped him up the garden path till we reached the
+coach-house, and, opening the door with one hand, I thrust him in. He
+made no resistance; in fact, he seemed utterly cowed; and a pitiable
+object he looked, crouched on the floor, with his face turned to the
+wall. I struck a match to obtain a better view of him.
+
+His only attire was a grey flannel shirt and a pair of dark trousers,
+both of which were torn in places and saturated with rain. Of his face I
+could see little, for it was half hidden by the hair, matted with dirt
+and rain, and by his bushy whiskers and beard, ragged and unkempt. His
+feet were bare and black with a thick coating of mud; hence his soft,
+stealthy tread. Altogether, he was a gruesome object, as he lay a huddled
+heap against the wall, muttering to himself some unintelligible jargon.
+
+Loosing his hands, I left him there, and, softly entering the house,
+found some food and rugs and took them out to him. He eyed the former
+ravenously, and before I could set it down he snatched a piece of bread
+from my hands and began eagerly to devour it. I put the remainder down by
+his side and, throwing the rugs over him, stole away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+                     THE MONASTERY AMONG THE HILLS.
+
+
+When I awoke in the morning the sun was already high in the heavens and
+it was considerably past my usual hour of rising. I jumped out of bed at
+once and began my toilet. I had scarcely finished my bath when there came
+a loud tap at the door.
+
+"Hallo!" I cried out. "Anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Please, sir, John wants to know whether you locked anything up
+in the coach-house last night. There was----"
+
+"Yes, I did," I interrupted quickly. "Tell him not to go there till I
+come down."
+
+"Please, sir, it's too late," the girl answered, in a frightened tone.
+"It's got away, whatever it is."
+
+I dropped the towel with which I had been rubbing myself and hurried on
+my clothes. In a few minutes I was down in the yard, where several men
+were standing together talking. John left them at once and came to me.
+
+"Why did you want to go to the coach-house so early?" I exclaimed,
+glancing at the wide-open door and empty interior. "I had an awful job to
+get that man in there last night, and now you've let him go."
+
+"Well, sir, it was a fearful row he was a-making," explained John. "Soon
+as I came this morning, about five o'clock, I was passing through the
+stack-yard when I heard an awful thumping at the coach-house door from
+the inside. Of course, I knew nowt about there being anyone theer, so I
+just goes straight up and opens the door, to see what was the matter,
+like, and, lor, I did 'ave a skeer, and no mistake! It wur quite dark,
+and I could see nowt but a pair o' heyes a-glaring at me as savage as a
+wild animal's. 'Coom out o' this 'ere and let's ha' a look at yer,' I
+says, for, d'ye see, I thought as it wur someone who had crept in
+unbeknown in the daytime and got locked in by mistake. There warn't no
+answer, and I wur just about to strike a match and 'ave a look at 'im,
+when he springs at me like a wild cat. I tried to hold him and I'm darned
+if he didn't nearly make his teeth meet through my hand."
+
+He touched his right hand lightly, and I noticed for the first time that
+it was bandaged up.
+
+"He got away from you, then?" I remarked.
+
+"Got away from me?" John repeated, in a tone of utter disgust. "He warn't
+such a sweet-looking object, or sweet-tempered 'un either, that I wur
+over-anxious for the pleasure of his company, he warn't! I just got my
+hand out of his jaws and let him go as fast as he liked, with a jolly
+good kick behind to help him on, too. You see, sir, I didn't know as
+you'd anything to do with putting him in there," the man added
+apologetically. "I thought he'd got in quite promiscuous-like."
+
+To tell the truth, although I had been alarmed at first, I did not
+particularly regret what had happened. At any rate, it saved me the
+bother of going over to the police-station at Mellborough. Still, the
+thought that he might even now be lurking about in the vicinity, with
+plenty of opportunities to provide a weapon for himself, was not
+altogether a pleasant one.
+
+"Who might he have been, sir?" John inquired curiously.
+
+"Just what I should like to know," I answered. "He's a lunatic and a
+dangerous one, that's certain--escaped from some asylum, I should think."
+And I told him of my adventure on the previous night, to which the whole
+group listened open-mouthed.
+
+"I'm thinking, sir," John remarked, when I had finished, "that it'd be as
+well for Foulds and I to have a scour round and see if we can't find him,
+or he'll be doing someone a mischief."
+
+"If you are not very busy I wish you would," I said. "I don't feel quite
+easy at the thought of his wandering about round here. If you do find
+him, lock him up and send word to the police-station at Mellborough."
+
+After breakfast that morning my mother made a request which startled me
+almost as much it delighted me.
+
+"I am going to walk over to the monastery, Philip," she said quietly.
+"Will you come with me?"
+
+"Of course I will, mother," I answered promptly. "Nothing could give me
+greater pleasure. When will you start?"
+
+"I shall be ready in half an hour," she said, with a faint smile, as
+though she were pleased at my ready acquiescence. Then she left the room
+to get ready.
+
+In about the time she had mentioned she came into the garden to me and we
+started on our walk. It was a very uneventful one, but I don't think that
+I shall ever forget it. My mother seemed, after her brief relapse into
+comparative kindness, to have become more inaccessible than ever; and she
+walked along by my side, with downcast eyes and a nervous, thoughtful
+expression on her pale face.
+
+I, too, felt somewhat depressed at starting, but soon the fresh, pure
+air, becoming stronger and stronger as we left the road and followed the
+footpath by Beacon Hill, had its invariable effect upon my spirits. All
+perplexing thoughts and forebodings of trouble passed away from me like
+magic, and my heart beat and the blood flowed through my veins with all
+the impetuous ardour of sanguine youth.
+
+At the top of the hill we paused, I to look round upon my favourite
+scene, my mother to rest for a moment. Then we saw how great had been the
+storm of the night before.
+
+Here and there were the bare trunks of trees and many a cattle-shed and
+barn stood roofless. The storm seemed to have worked havoc everywhere,
+save where, on the summit of its wooded hill, Ravenor Castle, with its
+great range of mighty battlements, its vast towers, and grey walls of
+invincible thickness, frowned down upon the country at its feet. Looking
+across at it, it seemed to me that the place had never seemed so imposing
+as then.
+
+My mother stood by my side and noticed my intent gaze.
+
+"You admire Ravenor Castle very much, Philip?" she said quietly.
+
+I withdrew my eyes with an effort.
+
+"I do, mother," I confessed; "very much indeed. The place has a sort of
+fascination for me--and the man who lives there!"
+
+My mother had turned a little away from me and stood with face upturned
+to heaven and mutely moving lips. Out of her eyes I could see the tears
+slowly welling, and her tall slim figure was convulsed with sobs. I
+sprang to her side and caught hold of her hand.
+
+"What is it, mother?" I cried. "Tell me!"
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"Not now, Philip--not now. Come, let us go!"
+
+Side by side we began to descend the hill. Our path wound around several
+freshly-planted spinneys and then led through a plantation of pine-trees.
+
+Then we turned with regret, so far as I was concerned, into the muddy
+road again and walked for more than a mile between high, straight hedges.
+At last, soon after mid-day, we turned to the left, passed through a
+farmyard and along a winding path, which led us, now by the side of
+turnip fields, now across bracken-covered open country, to the summit of
+our last hill.
+
+Here again we paused. Below us, close up against the background of the
+colourless hills, drearily situated in the bleakest spot of the austere
+landscape, the straight spires and severely simple buildings of the
+monastery were clustered together. A little above it, on an artificial
+eminence of rock, a rude cross stood out in vivid relief against the sky,
+and on this my mother's eyes were fixed with a sort of rapt wistfulness,
+as we stood side by side on the top of the hill looking downwards.
+
+It was a fitting spot that these men--who counted it among their virtues
+that in their rigid self-immolation they had cut themselves off even from
+the beauties of Nature--had chosen for their habitation. But although the
+place had a peculiar impressiveness of its own, which never failed to
+exercise a sort of fascination upon me, I was glad to-day when my mother
+moved forward again.
+
+As we neared the end of our journey and turned in at the long, straight
+avenue which led to the monastery doors, the strange agitation which I
+had noticed in my mother's manner during the earlier part of the day
+visibly increased. The cold inexpressiveness which had dwelt for so long
+in her face vanished, and into it there crept a look which, having once
+seen, I cared not to look upon again. It seemed as though she were
+endeavouring to brace herself up for some tremendous ordeal, and I would
+have given anything to have been able to put into words the sympathy
+which had risen up strongly within me.
+
+Unnatural, cold, severe and, at the best of times, indifferent, as she
+had lately been to me, she was still my mother and I loved her. But I
+dared not break in with words upon the fierce anguish which was already
+beginning to leave its marks upon her white, strained face. Only when we
+stood before the bare stone front of the monastery, and with feeble
+fingers she had pulled the great iron bell, could I speak at all, and
+then the words were not such as I wished to speak. Afterwards, when I
+thought of them--and I often did think of them and of every trifling
+incident of that memorable walk--they seemed to me weak and ill-chosen.
+
+But, such as they were, I am glad that I spoke them.
+
+She listened as one whose thoughts were far away, but when I ceased,
+breathless, she laid her hand upon my arm and, with her dim, sad eyes
+looking into mine, said simply:
+
+"This is for your sake, Philip--for your sake!"
+
+Then, before I could ask her what she meant, the great door slowly opened
+and the guest-master stood before us. She passed him with a silent
+salutation and vanished on her way to the chapel; and, though I watched
+her longingly, I dared not follow. Then, declining Father Bernard's
+invitation to go to his room and rest, I turned away from the door and
+wandered into the grounds.
+
+Hour after hour of the brief winter's day passed away. Father Bernard
+came out in search of me and offered me refreshments; but I shook my
+head. I could not eat, nor drink, nor rest. A strange but powerful
+apprehension of some coming crisis in my life--some great evil connected
+with my mother's visit to this place--had laid hold of me, and all my
+struggles against it were impotent.
+
+It was late in the afternoon before she came. I had climbed up to the top
+of "Calvary" and, with sick heart and longing eyes, was watching the door
+from which she must issue. Suddenly it was opened and she stood for a
+moment upon the threshold looking around for me. To my dying day I shall
+think of her as I saw her then.
+
+Her face was the face of a saint--calm, passionless, and happy, with a
+gentle, chastened happiness. I knew, when I looked upon her, that she had
+left the burden of her great sorrow behind. But she had paid a price for
+it. Pale and fragile as she had always appeared, she seemed now to have
+been wasted by some fierce, scathing ordeal, which had driven out of her
+features everything human and left only a spiritual life. As she moved
+slowly forward into the drive and I saw her even more distinctly, she
+seemed to me to have gained a strange, new beauty; but it was a beauty
+which made me look upon her with a sudden shuddering fear.
+
+I hurried down to her side and she welcomed me with a smile such as I had
+seldom seen on her face, and which was altogether in harmony with her
+softened expression. Then she took my arm and we turned towards home.
+
+"You are happier now, mother?" I ventured to ask her, and she answered me
+by silently pressing my arm.
+
+We passed down the avenue, thickly strewn with decaying leaves, along the
+winding lane, and through the gate which led up to Ive's Head Hill. Once
+or twice as we were making the ascent I fancied that she hung heavily
+upon my arm and I asked if she were tired; but she only shook her head.
+We had reached the summit before the terrible fear which had been gnawing
+at my heart took definite shape. Then, for the first time since we had
+started upon our return journey, I was able to look into her face, which
+she had been keeping averted from me, and when I saw the ghastly change
+which had crept into it, my heart stood still and all my senses seemed
+numbed with fear.
+
+"Mother," I cried, "you are ill! What is the matter? Oh, speak to
+me--do!"
+
+She had fallen into my arms, and her hands, which touched mine as they
+fell to her side, were as cold as ice. Her face was like the face of one
+who has already triumphed over the shadows of death. Far away at our feet
+the Cross of Calvary was standing out with rugged vividness against the
+fast darkening sky and upon it her closing eyes were steadily fixed. Her
+lips were slightly parted in a happy, confident smile, and her whole
+being seemed absorbed in the most religious devotion. Once she whispered
+my name and faintly pressed my hand; then her lips moved again and I
+heard the dread sound of the solemn prayer, faltered out in a broken
+whisper, "_In manus Tuas, Domine_!"
+
+In my heart I knew that she was dying, and that human help would be of no
+avail. Yet I was loth to abandon all hope, and setting her gently down I
+looked anxiously around. On the summit of the next range of hills a man
+was sitting on horseback, looking down upon the monastery--a motionless
+figure against the sky. I cried out to him, and at the sound of my voice
+he started round and looked towards us; then, suddenly digging the spurs
+deep into the sides of his great black horse, he came thundering up the
+side of the hill at a pace which made the ground shake beneath my feet
+like the tremblings of an earthquake.
+
+"What is wrong?" he cried hoarsely; and, looking into his face, I
+recognised Mr. Ravenor.
+
+I pointed to my mother's prostrate figure, and, gazing at him with dry
+eyes, I answered mechanically:
+
+"She is dying!"
+
+The words had scarcely left my lips before he had leaped from his horse,
+and, passing his arm around her, bent over her pallid face.
+
+"Oh, this is horrible!" he murmured. "You must not die--you must not die!
+I have----"
+
+His voice seemed choked with emotion and he did not finish his sentence.
+She spoke to him, but so softly that I could not hear the words.
+
+I walked a few yards away and once more looked wildly round. Far away on
+the dark hillside I could see the white-robed figures of the lay brethren
+bending over their labour. Nearer there was no one. The road below was
+deserted and a deep stillness seemed brooding over the bare, shadowy
+landscape. Sick at heart I turned back and fell on my knees by my
+mother's side.
+
+We remained there, fearing almost to look into her face, until the
+twilight deepened upon the hills and slowly blotted out from our view
+even the dark cross standing up against the grey sky. Then Mr. Ravenor
+leaned for a moment forward and a low groan escaped from his lips. It
+told me what I dreaded--that my mother was dead!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+                        A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.
+
+
+The paroxysm of my grief passed slowly away, and I rose to my feet and
+looked around with streaming eyes. Mr. Ravenor was still by my side, and
+together we carried my mother back to the monastery. The news of our
+approach had preceded us, and long before we reached our journey's end
+the solemn minute-bell was tolling out to the silent night, awakening
+strange echoes in the hills and finding a reverberation of its
+mournfulness in my heart.
+
+Austere and impressive as the great bare front of the monastery had
+always appeared to me, it had never seemed so cold and desolate as when
+our melancholy little procession wound round the Hill of Calvary and
+slowly approached the entrance. The gloom of a winter's evening was
+hanging around the building, which, with never a ray of light from any
+part, looked like a habitation of the dead--a gigantic vault.
+
+But suddenly, as we drew near, the front door was slowly opened and the
+dark figure of a monk, holding above his head a lighted taper, stood on
+the steps and in a low monotone repeated a Latin prayer. When he ceased
+there was a moment's silence, and then from the chapel there came the
+sound of deep voices chanting slowly in solemn unison the _Miserere_.
+
+The remainder of that night seems like a dream to me now, of which I can
+recall but little. But I remember that, long past midnight, when I had
+thrown myself down upon the stone floor of the guest-chamber, I heard
+soft steps and the rustle of garments approaching me, and, looking up, I
+saw the sweetest face I ever beheld in man or woman looking down into
+mine from the deep folds of a monk's cowl.
+
+He stayed with me for a while, speaking welcome words of comfort; then,
+gathering his robes about him, he stood up, prepared to leave. But first
+he handed me a small packet.
+
+"This was left in my charge for you, Philip Morton," he said. "Little did
+I dream that so soon I should be called upon to fulfil my trust. Take it,
+my son."
+
+The packet, which I opened with reverent fingers, was a very small one,
+and consisted of a single letter only. That I might see the more clearly
+to read it, I pushed open the narrow, diamond-framed window, and the
+moonlight filled the little room with a soft, mellowed light. Then I
+read:
+
+  "The Barnwood Monastery of St. Clement's,
+                "_November 19th, 18--._
+
+"My dearest Son,--I write these lines to you, Philip, feeling happier
+than I have done for many years, because I have a deep and sure
+conviction that my life is drawing fast to a close, and that the end may
+come at any minute. Alas! my son, I feel that I have not been to you all
+that a mother should be. It may be that my coldness has alienated from me
+the love which I know you have been willing to give. It may be so; but I
+choose rather to believe that you will pity me when I tell you that the
+coldness which has grown up between us was none of my choosing, but was
+only part of a terrible punishment which I have had to bear for many
+weary years.
+
+"What my sin--or let me be merciful to myself and call it my error--was,
+I do not purpose here to tell you. Some day the person at whose
+discretion I have left it may deem it well to tell you the whole story.
+For my sake, Philip, for the sake of the love which I know you bear
+me--and which, God knows, I have for you--I beg you to wait until that
+time comes and not seek to hasten it.
+
+"Think of me as kindly as you can, dear. If the path which I chose to
+follow was not the wisest, I have, at least, suffered terribly for it.
+For many weary years grief and horror and remorse have been making my
+life one long purgatory. Yes, I have suffered indeed. But at last I have
+found peace.
+
+"Do not marvel at what I am going to tell you, Philip. My will--the
+little I have to leave is yours--is drawn up and signed and I have
+appointed Mr. Ravenor your guardian. There are reasons for this which you
+cannot know, but he will be only too glad to accept the charge; and in
+all things, Philip, even if he should desire you altogether to change
+your position in life, follow his command and submit to his wishes.
+
+"Farewell, my beloved son--farewell! God grant that your life may be good
+and happy, and that your last days may be as peaceful as mine. I can wish
+you nothing better. Once more, farewell!--Your affectionate
+
+                                                           "Mother."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+                               FOR LIFE.
+
+
+My mother's death marked an epoch in my life, for immediately afterwards
+a great change came over my circumstances and position. Of the dreary
+days just before and after the funeral I shall here say but little. Their
+sadness is for me and me alone.
+
+Until after the ceremony I remained at the monastery, seeking relief from
+my thoughts by rambles over the hills, by watches at dead of night before
+the spot where, with many candles burning round her open coffin, my
+mother lay, and by long conversations with Father Alexander, my
+comforter. When the time of the funeral came, Mr. Ravenor stood by my
+side, the only other mourner, and I knew that the banks of choice white
+flowers, which smothered the coffin and perfumed the winter air, were his
+gift.
+
+After it was all over he came to me where I stood, a little apart, and
+put his hand upon my shoulder.
+
+"Philip, my boy," he said kindly, "will you come back to the Castle with
+me? I am your guardian now, you know."
+
+I drew a long breath.
+
+"Let me go back to the farm for a week by myself," I said; "then I will
+come to you. Be ready to go to Dr. Randall's."
+
+"Let it be so, then," he answered. "Perhaps it is best."
+
+I said good-bye to the monks, especially to Father Alexander, with
+regret, for they had all been very good to me. Then I accompanied Mr.
+Ravenor to his carriage and was driven swiftly homewards.
+
+The week that followed I spent in solitude, and as the days passed by the
+bitterness of my grief left me. Not that the memory of my mother grew
+less dear--rather the reverse; but I began to recognise that what had
+happened was best. Better that she should have died thus, full of
+thoughts of holy things and with a conscience at rest, than that she
+should still be bearing with aching heart a burden which she had never
+deserved.
+
+On the last day of the week I was told that a visitor had arrived and
+wished to see me, and before I could ask his name he had entered the
+room. It was Mr. Marx.
+
+The man was surely an admirable actor. Instinct told me that he cared not
+a jot for either my mother or me; but his few words of sympathy were
+excellently chosen and gracefully spoken. Then he at once changed the
+subject and talked pleasantly of other things; and as he went on I
+suddenly remembered that I had not seen him since the night of our drive
+home from Torchester, and that, therefore, he could know nothing of the
+adventure which had befallen me after his departure. I took advantage,
+therefore, of a pause in the conversation to tell him all about it; and,
+impassive though his face was, I could see that it made a great
+impression.
+
+"Do you remember what the man was like?" he asked, knitting his brows.
+"Can you describe him?"
+
+I did so as well as I could and in the midst of my narration, making some
+trivial excuse, he moved his chair out of the light into the shadows of
+the room. But if he wished to escape my scrutiny he was a little too
+late, for I had already noticed his blanched face and trembling hands.
+Evidently there was something more in this midnight attack than I had
+thought. Who was the lunatic? I wondered. I felt sure, looking at him
+closely, that Mr. Marx knew. No need now for Mr. Ravenor to warn me
+against the companionship of this man. Already my passive dislike had
+grown into an active aversion.
+
+Instinctively I felt that he was both unscrupulous and untrustworthy. I
+felt that he was seeking me for ends of his own, and all the time I was
+half afraid of him.
+
+Doubtless my manner showed that he was no welcome visitor, but still he
+lingered. At last my housekeeper brought me in my afternoon cup of tea
+and I was compelled to ask him to join me. He did so, drank it
+thoughtfully, and immediately afterwards rose to go.
+
+"I have been wondering what can have become of this poor lunatic," he
+said carelessly. "Scarcely a pleasant person to meet on a dark evening."
+
+I shrugged my shoulders as I walked out into the hall with him.
+
+"It is nearly a fortnight ago," I remarked; "he can hardly have remained
+in the neighbourhood and in hiding all this time."
+
+"Still, if he had been captured we should have heard of it," Mr. Marx
+objected.
+
+"Probably. And yet I don't see why. I should not, at any rate, as I have
+been away at the monastery; and you, I don't know how you would have
+heard of it, unless you read the local papers."
+
+"A weakness of which I am not guilty," he answered drily. "Nor have I
+been outside the grounds. We have been hard at work."
+
+"Did you walk here?" I asked.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I came down in a trap from the Castle, but the man was going to
+Mellborough and I told him not to wait for me. You won't walk across the
+park with me, I suppose, just to get an appetite for dinner? It's a
+splendid evening."
+
+I looked at him furtively, but closely. Yes, Mr. Marx was a coward, in
+addition to his other slight demerits.
+
+"No, thanks," I answered shortly. "I've had a long walk already today.
+Good evening!"
+
+I turned back into the sitting-room, but before I had reached my
+easy-chair I began to think that I was scarcely behaving well. After all,
+Mr. Marx was a middle-aged man, and it was possible that his strength
+might have been sapped by the brain labour in which he was constantly
+engaged and his sedentary life.
+
+Supposing he were to encounter this lunatic and suffer at his hands,
+perhaps even lose his life, should I not blame myself? I came to a speedy
+decision. I would let him have his fright, but I would follow him at a
+little distance and see that he came to no harm.
+
+I took a short, heavy stick from the rack and, crossing the stackyard,
+vaulted over the palings into the park, purposely avoiding the gate.
+About a hundred yards in front Mr. Marx was walking quickly along, with
+both hands in his ulster pockets, and looking frequently around him. Men
+had been busy in the park on the previous day cutting the bracken, and
+along the side of the road were many stacks of it waiting to be carted
+away. I noticed that whenever Mr. Marx drew near one of these he gave it
+a wide berth and I smiled to myself at this evidence of his anxiety.
+
+I was walking on the turf, that he might not hear my footsteps, and was
+able to keep him easily in sight, for it was a clear, frosty evening, and
+the full moon was shining in a cloudless sky. At a sudden bend in the
+road he came in sight of a place where stacks of bracken had been left on
+either side opposite to each other. I saw him pause as though hesitating
+which he should avoid, and at the same moment I distinctly saw some dark
+body crouched down behind one of them and swaying slightly backwards and
+forwards.
+
+I broke at once into a run, but before the echoes of my warning shout had
+died away a figure sprang like a wild cat at Mr. Marx's throat. There was
+a flash and a sharp report, but from the direction of the former I could
+see that the revolver had been knocked up into the air and exploded
+harmlessly.
+
+When at last I reached the assailant and his victim it was a fearful
+sight I looked upon. The face of the lunatic was ghastly and his wild
+eyes almost started from their sockets in his rage.
+
+White and emaciated as a skeleton's, his face was still capable of
+expression--and such an expression. A frenzied desire to kill seemed to
+be his sole aim, and his long, skinny fingers clutched Mr. Marx's throat
+as in a vice. The latter's eyeballs were protruding from his head and his
+breath was coming in short, agonised pants; yet all the while Mr. Marx
+was holding the madman in such a fierce grip that I could hear his ribs
+snapping like whalebone.
+
+My arrival saved Mr. Marx from a speedy death by strangulation. Though I
+lifted the lunatic up in my arms and strained every muscle to pull him
+away, his fingers never relaxed till I stopped his breath and rendered
+him momentarily unconscious.
+
+I waited for Mr. Marx to come to himself, my foot resting lightly upon
+the prostrate body of his assailant. Soon he rose slowly to his feet and
+began groping about in the road.
+
+"What do you want?" I asked. "Lost anything?"
+
+"My revolver."
+
+I pointed to where it lay gleaming in the moonlight. He picked it up and
+set it to an undischarged barrel. I watched him curiously.
+
+"You won't want that again," I remarked. "What are you going to do with
+it?"
+
+"I am going to put that beast out of his misery," he answered. "Stand out
+of the way!"
+
+"Nonsense! You will do nothing of the sort!" I cried hotly. "What! kill
+an insensible man? He has as much right to live as you. You shall not
+commit murder in my presence: and, least of all, shall you kill a poor
+insane creature like this. Put that thing up!"
+
+An awful look flashed into his face, and, as he suddenly raised his arm,
+I looked into the dark muzzle of his revolver.
+
+With a quick spring I wrenched the revolver from his hand, and, bending
+backwards, threw it far away into the bracken.
+
+"I don't know what you were going to do, Mr. Marx," I said, looking at
+him steadily, "but it seems to me that you are not a fit person to be
+trusted with firearms."
+
+He stood still, speechless with rage. I turned my back upon him and
+found, to my surprise, that the man whose life Mr. Marx had so much
+desired was lying on his side, looking at me with wide-open eyes.
+
+"Well, have your own way," Mr. Marx said, quietly; "I dare say you are
+right. There was no need to be violent, or to throw away my favourite
+revolver. What do you propose to do with him?"
+
+Mr. Marx advanced, but at the sight of him the lunatic, who was leaning
+heavily upon my arm, and groaning with pain, shrank down upon the ground,
+cowering at my feet like a dog. He covered his face with his hands and
+broke into one of the most pitiful cries of distress that I have ever
+heard from human lips. I motioned Mr. Marx back.
+
+"I can manage him alone, I think; and the sight of you upsets him. Will
+you follow us down?"
+
+Mr. Marx advanced a step or two, his eyes flashing with anger. Then
+suddenly he turned his back upon us, and, without a word, walked rapidly
+away. I raised my prisoner, and half carried, half dragged him back to
+the farm.
+
+In a few hours the doctor from Rothland had arrived and speedily set the
+broken bones. He seemed much interested in the case and made a careful
+examination.
+
+"Do you think he has been a lunatic long?" I asked.
+
+The doctor shook his head.
+
+"On the contrary," he replied, "I should say his madness has come on
+quite recently--the effect of some severe shock probably. If he is
+treated properly there is no doubt that he will regain his reason."
+
+In a few days the lunatic was pronounced well enough in health to be
+moved; and as all inquiries and advertisements about him proved
+fruitless, he was consigned to the county asylum at Torchester.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+                              MY GUARDIAN.
+
+
+On the third day after my adventure in the park Mr. Ravenor called to see
+me. He came in splashed from head to foot and had evidently ridden a long
+distance and fast. I offered him a chair and some refreshment, for he
+looked pale and tired, but he declined both, and walked slowly up and
+down the room, his hands grasping a long riding-whip behind his back.
+
+"I can only give you a minute or two now, Morton," he said, with some
+slight return of his former brusque _hauteur_; "I am expecting visitors
+from London to-night and must get back to receive them. But there is
+something I must say to you. You will be surprised to hear that your
+mother has left you a considerable property?"
+
+I was very much surprised.
+
+"Are you quite sure of this, Mr. Ravenor?" I ventured to ask. "My mother
+always spoke to me as though we were poor."
+
+"I do not make mistakes," he answered, pausing in his walk and looking
+down upon me from his great height with knitted brows and piercing eyes,
+"least of all in matters of such importance. How much the exact sum will
+amount to I cannot tell yet, but it is more than twenty thousand pounds,
+so you will be able to choose your own profession. What will it be, I
+wonder--the Bar, the Army, the Church, agriculture? Come, you are a boy
+of imagination and have never been in love. You must have had day-dreams
+of some sort. Whither have they led you?"
+
+"Not to any of the professions which you have mentioned," I answered
+promptly.
+
+"Then where? Tell me. I am curious to know."
+
+"My ideas have always been very vague," I said slowly. "I should like to
+live quite away from any town, to read a good deal, and to spend the rest
+of my time out of doors; and then, perhaps, after a time, I might try to
+think something out and put it into words."
+
+"In short, you would like to be an author," Mr. Ravenor broke in, with a
+slight smile.
+
+"Yes; but I should not want to write to amuse people, or to become
+famous," I went on, encouraged by Mr. Ravenor's gravity. "I should like
+to make people think. I should like to make them turn aside from the
+groove of their daily life and realise that the world is full of greater
+and higher things than mere material prosperity. Men seem to me to find
+their daily work and pleasure too absorbing. They think of themselves and
+others only as individuals, never as limbs of a great common humanity
+with a mighty destiny. The world grows narrower and narrower for them as
+they grow older, instead of broader and broader. It is because they
+neglect the use of their imagination--at least, so it seems to me."
+
+"Have you read Hibbet's little pamphlets?" Mr. Ravenor asked.
+
+"Both of them," I answered. "I like his ideas."
+
+"Have your clothes come from Torchester?" he inquired, with apparent
+irrelevance.
+
+"Yes; they came last week," I told him, wondering.
+
+"Very well; put on your dress-suit and come up to the Castle at eight
+o'clock to-night. You shall dine with me and meet Hibbet."
+
+Meet Sir Richard Hibbet! Dine at the same table! My cheeks flushed and my
+heart beat fast. Life was opening out for me.
+
+"Yes; he and Marris and Williams, the publisher, you know, are all
+staying at the Castle. There will be some more of them down to-night.
+Don't be late. I will find time, if I can, to have some talk with you,
+for I want you to go to Dr. Randall's next week."
+
+He nodded and took his departure. I watched him mount his horse and
+gallop away across the open park. Then I started for a solitary walk, to
+ponder my altered prospects.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+                         MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.
+
+
+At a quarter to eight I stood in the great hall of Ravenor Castle. On my
+first visit its vastness and gloom had somewhat chilled me; now it was
+altogether different. A small army of servants in picturesque livery and
+with powdered hair were moving noiselessly about. Soft lights were
+burning on many brackets, dispelling the deep shades which had hung
+somewhat drearily about; and there was a fragrant perfume of flowers and
+a pleasant sense of warmth in the air. I began to understand at once the
+stories I had heard of the luxury and magnificence with which Mr. Ravenor
+entertained his guests on the rare occasions when he threw open his
+doors.
+
+Mr. Ravenor was in his private rooms, I was told, and his own groom of
+the chambers, who had been summoned to take my name, ushered me, after a
+moment's hesitation, into the library. I walked to the fire, for I was
+cold, probably through being unused to wearing such thin clothes; and,
+standing there with my hands behind my back, looked around with a feeling
+almost of awe at the vast collection of books with which I was
+surrounded.
+
+"And who are you, please?"
+
+I started and looked in the direction from which the voice--a sweet,
+childish treble--came. Seated demurely in the centre of a large armchair,
+with tumbled hair, and a book upon her lap, was a very young lady. Her
+clear blue eyes were fixed calmly but inquiringly upon me, as though
+expecting an immediate answer, and there was a slight frown upon her
+forehead. Altogether, for such a diminutive maiden, she appeared rather
+formidable.
+
+"I didn't know that you were there," I said, in explanation of my start.
+"My name is Morton--Philip Morton."
+
+She looked me over gravely and critically, and succeeded in making me
+feel uncomfortable. Apparently, however, the examination ended in my
+favour, for the frown disappeared and she closed her book.
+
+"Philip is pretty," she said condescendingly. "I don't think much of
+Morton. I rather like Philip, though."
+
+"I--I'm glad of that," I answered lamely. It was very ridiculous, but I
+could think of nothing else to say. I wanted to say something brilliant,
+but it wouldn't come; so I stood still and looked at her and got rather
+red in the face.
+
+"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
+
+"Haven't the least idea," I admitted.
+
+She leaned her small, delicate head upon her hand and began swaying her
+feet slowly backwards and forwards.
+
+"I am Lady Beatrice Cecilia--my mother is Lady Silchester," she said. "Do
+you think it is a pretty name?"
+
+"Very," I answered, biting my lip; "much prettier than mine."
+
+"Do you know, I think you are a nice boy!" she proceeded. "I rather like
+you."
+
+"I'm so glad!" I answered, feeling unreasonably delighted. "I'm sure that
+I like you," I added fervently.
+
+"It's very good of you to say so, when you've only just seen me," she
+remarked; "but you can't be quite sure. You don't know anything about me,
+you see. I might be dreadfully disagreeable."
+
+"But I'm sure you're not," I answered, feeling that I was getting on.
+
+She was good enough to seem pleased at my confidence; but she made no
+further remark for a minute or two, during which I racked my brains in
+vain for some effective remark, with my eyes fixed upon her. She
+certainly made a very charming picture, curled up in the great black oak
+chair, with the firelight playing upon her ruddy golden hair and
+glistening in her bright eyes.
+
+"You've been reading, haven't you?" I asked, pointing to the book which
+lay in her lap.
+
+"It's not a nice book at all!" she said decidedly. "I don't like any of
+the books here. Oh!"
+
+I turned round quickly, for I saw that she was looking behind me.
+Standing on the threshold of his inner room was the tall, dark figure of
+Mr. Ravenor, handsomer than ever, it seemed to me, in his plain evening
+dress.
+
+Slowly he advanced out of the shadows, with a faint smile upon his pale
+face, and laid his hand upon her shoulder, looking first at my little
+hostess and then at me.
+
+"So you've been entertaining one of my guests for me, Trixie, have you?"
+he said. "Rather late for you to be up, isn't it? Your nurse has been
+looking for you everywhere."
+
+"Then I suppose I must go," Lady Beatrice Cecilia remarked deliberately.
+She rose, shook her hair out, and, replacing the book which she had been
+reading upon the shelf, prepared to depart. But first she came up to
+where I was standing on the hearthrug and held out her little white hand.
+
+"Good-night, Philip Morton," she said, looking up at me with a grave
+smile. "I am very glad that you came in here to talk to me. I was so
+dull."
+
+I made some reciprocative speech, which, if it was somewhat awkwardly
+expressed, had at least the merit of earnestness, and my eyes followed
+her admiringly as she walked to the door and disappeared with a backward
+glance and a smile. Then I started and coloured, to find that Mr. Ravenor
+was watching me.
+
+"I don't know why they should have brought you here," he said. "Come this
+way."
+
+I followed Mr. Ravenor across the hall into a suite of rooms hung with
+satin, opening out one from another, and seeming to my inexperience like
+a succession of brilliantly-lit fairy chambers. In the smallest and most
+remote room three men were standing talking together, and in a low chair
+by their side reclined Lady Silchester, holding a dainty screen of
+peacock feathers between her face and the fire, and listening to the
+conversation with a slightly bored air. She was in full evening toilette,
+and several rows of diamonds flashed and sparkled with every rise and
+fall of her snow-white throat. Afterwards I grew to look upon Lady
+Silchester as a good type of the well-bred society woman; but then she
+was a revelation to me--the revelation of a new species.
+
+My appearance seemed at first to surprise and then slightly to discompose
+her, but both emotions passed away at once and she welcomed me with a
+charming little smile as she languidly raised her hand and placed it
+within mine for a moment.
+
+At our entrance the conversation ceased for a moment. Mr. Ravenor laid
+his hand upon my shoulder and turned towards the little group.
+
+"Sir Richard, let me introduce to you a young ward of mine and a disciple
+of yours. Sir Richard Hibbet--Mr. Morton; Professor Marris--Mr. Morton;
+Mr. Later--Mr. Morton."
+
+They all shook hands with me, and, widening their circle a little,
+continued the conversation.
+
+This was interrupted presently by the announcement of dinner, the
+Professor taking in our hostess, the others following, Mr. Ravenor and I
+bringing up the rear.
+
+There was no lack of conversation during dinner, though gradually it
+turned towards purely literary matters and remained there. To me it was
+altogether fascinating, although it was often beyond my comprehension.
+
+Long after Lady Silchester had departed we sat round the small table
+glittering with plate and finely-cut glass, and loaded with choice
+flowers and wonderful fruits; and my senses were almost dazed by the
+brilliancy of my material surroundings, and the ever-flowing
+conversation, which seemed always to be teaching me something new and
+opening up fresh fields of thought. At times I scarcely knew which most
+to admire--the dry, pungent wit and caustic remarks of the Professor; the
+perfectly expressed, classical English of Mr. Later; the sound, good
+sense of Sir Richard, seasoned with an apparently inexhaustible stock of
+anecdotes and quotations culled from all imaginable sources; or the
+brilliant epigrams, the trenchant criticisms, and the occasional flashes
+of genuine eloquence by means of which Mr. Ravenor, with rare art,
+continually stimulated the talk.
+
+Almost unnoticed, Mr. Marx, still in his morning coat, with pale face and
+dark rims under his eyes, had entered and sank wearily into a seat; but,
+although he listened with apparent interest, he took no part in the war
+of words which was flashing around him. Suddenly it all came to an end.
+Mr. Ravenor glanced at his watch and rose.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I must ask you to excuse me for an hour. If you
+care to see the library, Mr. Marx will show it you, or the smoking-room
+and billiard-room are at your service. Or if you care to remain here
+there is plenty more of the yellow-seal claret and the cigars are upon
+the table. Philip, I want you."
+
+I rose and followed him towards the door. As I did so I had to pass Mr.
+Marx, who had left his seat on some pretext. He leaned over towards me,
+haggard and pale, and pushed a slip of paper into my fingers.
+
+"Read it at once," he muttered, in a quick, low tone. Then he moved up
+and took Mr. Ravenor's place at the head of the table.
+
+I felt inclined to throw it back to him; but I did not. Passing across
+the hall, I unfolded it and read these few words, scrawled in a large,
+shaking hand:
+
+"You must not go to Dr. Randall's. Mr. Ravenor will give you a choice. Go
+anywhere but there. If you neglect this warning you will repent it all
+your life. I swear it. Tear this up,"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+                          MR. MARX'S WARNING.
+
+
+My first impulse, on glancing through Mr. Marx's brief note, was to show
+it to Mr. Ravenor; but, after a second's consideration, I changed my
+mind. Mr. Marx was a complete mystery to me. At times it seemed possible
+that the interest which he undoubtedly showed in me was genuine and
+kindly, and I struggled against my dislike of the man. Then I remembered
+his brutal conduct to the lunatic and the other inexplicable parts of his
+behaviour, and the darkest suspicions and doubts began to take shape in
+my imagination.
+
+There was something altogether mysterious about him--his connection with
+Mr. Ravenor and his manner towards myself. I was puzzled and more than
+half inclined to decide against the man whom personally I had grown to
+detest. But, on the other hand, I was young and still an optimist with
+regard to my fellow-men.
+
+What harm had I done Mr. Marx, and why should he seek to injure me? It
+seemed improbable, almost ridiculous. So in the end a certain sense of
+fairness induced me to respect his postscript, and I said nothing to Mr.
+Ravenor about his secretary's warning.
+
+My interview with him was a very short one indeed. He led the way into
+the study in which I had first seen him and, closing the door, turned
+round and faced me upon the hearthrug. The room was dimly lit, but where
+he stood the fast-dying fire cast a faint glow around his tall, straight
+figure, and showed me a face cold and resolute as marble, but not unkind.
+
+"Philip Morton," he said slowly, "it has occurred to me that in wishing
+you to go to Lincolnshire, I may have been influenced to a certain extent
+by selfish considerations. If you have the slightest preference for a
+public school----"
+
+I knew instinctively whence that idea had come and I interrupted him.
+
+"Nothing should induce me to go anywhere else but to Dr. Randall's!" I
+exclaimed firmly.
+
+"In that case," he continued, "I wish you to leave tomorrow. You will be
+ready?"
+
+I assented at once.
+
+"I, too, am leaving here--it may be for a very long while," he went on.
+"In two months' time I hope to start for Persia, and between now and then
+my movements will be uncertain. I cannot settle down here. It is
+useless."
+
+A great weariness shone out of his dark blue eyes and he stifled a sigh.
+Some thought or memory coloured with regret had flashed across his mind;
+but what it was I could not tell.
+
+"You remember your mother's letter to you and her dying request?" he
+continued, in a changed tone. "I cannot explain it now, although I must
+remind you of it. This packet"--and he passed me a large, sealed
+envelope--"contains a chequebook, the address of the lawyer who will
+manage your affairs, and a letter which you will not open unless you have
+certain news and proof of my death. You will find that you are,
+comparatively speaking, rich. How this comes about I cannot tell you now,
+and you must remember your mother's dying injunction not to seek to find
+out until the time comes, when you will know everything. At present, I
+can only assure you that the money is yours by right, that it is not a
+gift, and that no one else has any claim to it. That is all I can say
+upon the subject. Are you satisfied?"
+
+Curiosity seemed a mean thing to me as I listened to my guardian's words
+and looked into his sad, stern face. All the old fascination which I had
+felt from the first in his presence was strong upon me that night.
+Whatever he had bidden me to do I should have done it. And so I answered:
+
+"I am satisfied. What you tell me is mine I will take and ask no
+questions."
+
+"That is well," he said quietly. "And now, one word about your future,
+Philip, for to-morrow you will take up some of the responsibilities of
+early manhood. A great man once said that the best adviser of youth was
+the man whose own life had been a failure. If this be anything more than
+a paradox, then there can be no one better fitted for that post than I.
+Already the flavour of life has become like dead ashes between my teeth;
+and the fault is my own. Mr. Marris was talking a great deal of nonsense
+in the drawing-room before dinner this evening. I want to say just one or
+two words to you on the same subject, and remember that I speak as an
+outsider, impersonally.
+
+"Before I was twenty-one years old, I had studied in most of the schools
+of modern philosophy, and had thrown off my religion like an old rag. I
+was inflated with a sense of my own intellectual superiority over other
+men. It was philosophy which taught men to live, I declared, and
+philosophy which taught them to die. With that motto before me, I
+carefully set myself to annihilate every vestige of faith with which I
+had ever been endowed. I succeeded--too well. It is dead; and sometimes I
+fear that it will never reawaken. And what am I? As miserable a man as
+ever drew breath upon this earth. It seems to me as though I had crushed
+a part of my very life and the sore will rankle for ever.
+
+"There is a part of man's nature, Philip--that is to say, of such men as
+I have been and you will be--the sympathetic, emotional, reverential
+part, which cries out for some belief in a higher, an infinite Power, for
+some sort of religion which it can cling to and entwine with every action
+of daily life. You must satisfy that craving if you desire to know
+happiness. For me there is no such knowledge. I have deliberately
+committed spiritual suicide; I have torn up faith by the roots and have
+made a void in my heart, which nothing else can ever fill. Frankly, I
+tell you, Philip, that there are times when religion of any sort seems to
+me no better than a fairy-tale. It need not seem so to you. Shape out for
+yourself any form of belief--that of the Christian is as good as any
+other--and resolutely cling to it. It is my advice to you--mine who
+believe in no God and no future state. Follow it and farewell!"
+
+He held out his hand and clasped mine for a moment. I would have spoken,
+but before I could find words he had disappeared through a curtained door
+into his inner apartment. So I turned away and went.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+                           A LOST PHOTOGRAPH.
+
+
+It was about five o'clock on as dreary an afternoon as I ever remember,
+when the slow train, which crawls always at a most miserable pace from
+Peterborough across the eastern counties, deposited me at Little Drayton.
+Besides the station-master there were but two people on the wet
+platform--one a porter, who made for my bags with almost wolflike
+alacrity after a moment's amazed stare, at me, presumably at the rare
+advent of a passenger with luggage; the other was a thin, dark young man,
+clad in a light mackintosh with very large checks, and smoking a long
+cigar. Whilst I was collecting my things he came leisurely up and
+accosted me.
+
+"Your name Morton?" he inquired, without removing his cigar from his
+teeth.
+
+I assented.
+
+"Have you come down to meet me?" I asked.
+
+"Yes; old Randall's gone out to dinner, so he asked Cis and me to come
+and fetch you. Cart's outside; but we can't take all the luggage. Just
+look out what you want, will you, and we'll send for the rest to-morrow."
+
+I selected a portmanteau and followed him out of the station. A light,
+four-wheeled brown cart was waiting, drawn by a pair of small,
+clever-looking cobs, altogether a very smart turnout.
+
+"Pitch that bag in behind, porter," ordered my new acquaintance. "Now,
+then, Mr. Morton, if you're ready we'll be off. Your train's half an hour
+late, and Cis will be wondering what's become of us."
+
+"Is Cis Mr. Ravenor's nephew, Silchester?" I asked, as I clambered up
+beside him.
+
+"Oh, yes! By the bye, I ought to have introduced myself, oughtn't I? My
+name is de Cartienne--Leonard de Cartienne."
+
+"And are you Dr. Randall's other pupil?" I inquired.
+
+"Yes; I'm doing a grind there. Beastly slow it is, too. You'll be sorry
+you've come, I can tell you, before very long."
+
+Looking around me, I was inclined to think that that was not improbable.
+It was too dark to see far, but what I could see was anything but
+promising. The country was perfectly flat, dreary, and barren, and the
+view was unbroken by tree, or hedge, or hill. By the side of the road was
+a small canal, over the sullen waters of which, and across the road,
+brooded spectral-like clouds of mist. The rain still fell rapidly, and
+the wheels of our cart ran noiselessly in the sandy, paste-like mud.
+
+"Ghastly night, isn't it?" remarked my companion, breaking the silence
+again.
+
+"Rather!" I assented vigorously. "What a flat, ugly country, too! I never
+saw anything like it."
+
+"Beastly country! beastly place altogether!" de Cartienne agreed. "I'm
+jolly sick of it, I can tell you! Steady, Brandy! steady, sir!" giving
+the near animal a cut with the whip.
+
+"What do you call your horses?" I asked curiously.
+
+"Brandy and Soda. Jolly neat name for a pair. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Uncommon, at any rate," I answered ambiguously. "Didn't you say that we
+were to call for Silchester somewhere?"
+
+"Mean Cis? Oh, yes; we've got to pick him up at the Rose and Crown."
+
+"A hotel?"
+
+"Well, hardly. Fact is," de Cartienne continued, dropping his voice a
+little, and glancing behind to see whether the groom was listening--"fact
+is, Cis is a bit inclined to make a fool of himself. There's a pretty
+girl at this place and he puts in an uncommon lot of time there. Awfully
+pretty girl she is, really," he added confidentially. "Won't stand any
+nonsense, either. The place is only a pub., after all, but everyone who
+goes there has to behave himself. She won't have a lot of fellows
+dangling about after her, though she might have the whole town if she
+liked. Makes her all the more dangerous, I think."
+
+"And Lord Silchester----"
+
+"Hang the 'lord'!" interrupted my companion, whipping his horses.
+
+"Well, Silchester, then! I suppose he admires her very much?"
+
+"Admires her! I should think he does! He's awful spoons on her! It's
+quite sickening the way they go on sometimes. There's a regular stew on
+there to-night, though, tremendous scene."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Well, it seems that Milly's father--he's the landlord of the place, you
+know--left home about a month ago, saying he was going up to London on
+some business. He was expected back in a fortnight or three weeks; but
+he's never turned up and he hasn't written. So at last Milly sent up to
+the place where he always stops in town and also to some friends whom he
+was going to see. This morning a reply comes from both of them. Nothing
+has been seen or heard of him at all. Of course, Milly imagines the worst
+at once, goes off into hysterics, and, when we called this evening on our
+way down, was half out of her mind."
+
+"And so Silchester stopped with her to console her?"
+
+"Exactly," assented de Cartienne, with a queer smile. "Shouldn't wonder
+if he succeeded, either!"
+
+We entered the street of an old-fashioned, straggling town, the
+glimmering lights of which had been in sight for some time. de Cartienne,
+sitting forward a little, devoted his whole attention to the horses, for
+the stones were wet and slippery, and Brandy seemed to shy at everything
+and anything which presented itself, from the little pools of water
+glistening in the lamplight, which lay in the hollows of the road, down
+to his own shadow. I looked round curiously. The old-fashioned
+market-place, the quaintly built houses, the dimly lit shops, and little
+knots of gaping rustics, whom our rapid approach scattered right and
+left, were, at any rate, more interesting and pleasanter to look upon
+than the damp, miserable country outside. Suddenly we pulled up with a
+jerk outside a small, but clean-looking inn, and the groom leaped down
+from behind and made his way to the horses' heads.
+
+"Take them up the street a little, John," said de Cartienne, as he
+descended. "No need to advertise Cis's folly to the whole town," he
+added, in a lower tone. "Come on, Morton, we'll go and rout him out."
+
+I stepped across the wet pavement after him and, stooping low down,
+crossed the threshold of the "Rose and Crown." We passed by a room in
+which several labouring men were drinking mugs of beer, and entered the
+bar, in which a rosy-cheeked country damsel was exchanging noisy and not
+too choice badinage with one or two young men who hung about her. From
+here another door led into an inner room and at this de Cartienne
+somewhat ostentatiously knocked. There was a second's pause; then a
+clear, pleasant voice sang out "Come in!" and we entered.
+
+It was a small, cosy room, not ill-furnished, and with a cheerful fire
+burning in the grate. Leaning against the mantelpiece, with his face
+towards us, was Cis, whose likeness to Lady Beatrice was so remarkable
+that I liked him heartily before we had exchanged a word. Standing by his
+side, with her head suspiciously near his shoulder, was a very fair girl,
+with nice figure and complexion and large blue eyes. Her face was
+certainly pretty, but it was not of a very high type of prettiness. The
+features, although regular of their sort, were not in any way refined or
+_spirituelle_, nor was there anything in her expression to redeem her
+from the mediocrity of good looks.
+
+Still, she was undoubtedly a nice-looking girl, quite pretty enough to be
+the belle of a country place, and, on the whole, I was rather relieved to
+find her attractions of so ordinary a kind. There could scarcely be
+anything dangerous, I thought, in this good-humoured doll's face; she did
+not appear to have the daring or character to lead her boyish admirer
+over the borders of a spooning sentimentality. At any rate, that was not
+written in her face. A blunt physiognomist would probably have declared
+that there was not enough of the devil in her to fire the blood even of
+an impetuous, generous boy and urge him on to recklessness. It seemed so
+to me and I was glad of it.
+
+Just at present there were traces of tears in her face and a generally
+woe-begone expression. Her companion, too, looked upset and sympathetic;
+but he glanced up with a bright smile when we entered.
+
+"You're Philip Morton, I suppose?" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.
+"Glad to see you! Heard of you from my uncle, you know!" I shook hands
+with him and he introduced me formally to the young woman at his side,
+calling her Miss Hart. Then he turned to me again.
+
+"I quite meant to have been at the station to meet you," he said; "but we
+called here first and I--I was detained."
+
+"It's of no consequence at all," I assured him. "Mr. de Cartienne was
+there."
+
+"And Mr. de Cartienne having had to wait half an hour in the rain at that
+infernal old shed they call a station, requires a little refreshment,"
+chimed in the person named. "Will the fair Millicent condescend, or shall
+I ring?"
+
+She rose and, crossing the room, opened the door into the bar.
+
+"Brandy-and-soda for me," ordered de Cartienne. "Cis is drinking whisky,
+I see, so he'll have another one, and we'll have a large bottle of
+Apollinaris between us. Morton, what'll you have?"
+
+I decided upon claret and hot water, never having tasted spirits. De
+Cartienne made a wry face, but ordered it without remark.
+
+"I say, Morton, I don't know what you'll think of us shacking about in a
+public-house like this, and bringing you here, your first night, too!"
+exclaimed Silchester, dragging his chair up to mine. "Bad form, isn't it?
+But it is so dull in the evenings and Milly's no end of a nice girl. No
+one could help liking her. Besides, she's in dreadful trouble just now,"
+he continued, dropping his voice. "Her father has disappeared suddenly.
+Awfully mysterious affair and no mistake. We can't make head or tail of
+it."
+
+"It is uncommonly queer," admitted de Cartienne, who was lounging against
+the wall beside us. "I should have said that he'd gone off on the spree
+somewhere, but he couldn't have kept it up so long as this."
+
+"Besides, he'd only a few pounds with him," Cecil remarked.
+
+"Seems almost as though he'd come to grief in some way," I said.
+
+"I daren't tell Milly, but I don't know what else to think," Cecil
+acknowledged.
+
+A wild idea flashed for a moment into my mind, only to die away again
+almost as rapidly. It was too utterly improbable. Nevertheless, I asked
+Cecil a question with some curiosity:
+
+"What sort of looking man was he?"
+
+Cecil and de Cartienne both began to describe him at once, and, as de
+Cartienne modified or contradicted everything Cecil said, I was soon in a
+state of complete bewilderment as to the personality of the missing man.
+It seemed that he was short, and of medium height; that he was fair, and
+inclined to be dark, stout and thin, pale and ruddy. Milly put in a word
+or two now and then; and, what with de Cartienne dissenting from
+everything she said, and Cecil, a little perplexed, siding first with one
+and then with the other, the description naturally failed to carry to my
+mind the slightest impression of Mr. Hart's appearance. At last, rather
+impatiently, I stopped them.
+
+"I'm afraid I am guilty of a somewhat unreasonable curiosity," I said,
+"for I haven't any real reason for asking; but haven't you a photograph
+of your father, Miss Hart? I can't follow the description at all."
+
+I happened to be looking towards de Cartienne while I made my request,
+and suddenly, from no apparent cause, I saw him start, and a strange look
+came into his face. At first I thought he must be ill; but, seeing my
+eyes fixed upon him, he seemed to recover himself instantly, though he
+was still deadly pale.
+
+"Why, what the mischief are you staring at, Morton?" asked Cecil.
+
+"Oh, nothing!" I answered. "I thought that de Cartienne was ill, that's
+all."
+
+Cecil glanced at him curiously.
+
+"By George! he does look rather white about the gills, doesn't he? Say,
+old chap, are you ill?"
+
+de Cartienne shook his head.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing!" he said carelessly. "Don't all stare at me as though
+I were some sort of natural curiosity, please. I feel a bit queer, but
+it's passing off. I think, if Miss Milly will allow me, I'll go and sit
+down in the other room by myself for a few minutes."
+
+"I'll come with you!" exclaimed Cecil, springing up. "Poor old chap!"
+
+"No, don't, please!" protested de Cartienne. "I would rather be alone; I
+would indeed. I shall be all right directly."
+
+He quitted the room by another door, and we three were left alone. Cecil
+and Miss Milly began a conversation in a low tone, and I, feeling
+somewhat _de trop_, took up a local newspaper and affected to be engaged
+in its contents. After a few minutes, however, Cecil remembered my
+existence.
+
+"By the bye, Milly," he said, "Morton was asking you whether you had not
+a photograph of your father. There's one in the sitting-room, isn't
+there?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Well, we'll go and look at it and see how Leonard is. He looked
+uncommonly seedy, didn't he? Come along, Morton."
+
+We crossed a narrow passage and entered a small parlour. Miss Hart walked
+up to the mantelpiece and Cecil and I remained looking round.
+
+"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Leonard isn't here; I wonder where----"
+
+He was interrupted by a cry of blank surprise from Miss Hart.
+
+"What's the matter now? How you startled me, Milly!" he exclaimed,
+hurrying to her side. "What is it?"
+
+"Why, the photograph!"
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"It's gone!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+                         LEONARD DE CARTIENNE.
+
+
+We all three stood and looked at one another for a moment, Milly Hart
+with her finger still pointing to the vacant place where the photograph
+had been. Then Cecil broke into a short laugh.
+
+"We're looking very tragical about it," he said lightly. "Mysterious
+joint disappearance of Leonard de Cartienne and a photograph of Mr. Hart.
+Now, if it had been a photograph of a pretty girl instead of a
+middle-aged man, we might have connected the two. Hallo!"
+
+He broke off in his speech and turned round. Standing in the doorway,
+looking at us, was Leonard de Cartienne, with a slight smile on his thin
+lips.
+
+"Behold the missing link--I mean man!" exclaimed Cecil. "Good old
+Leonard! Do you know, you gave us quite a fright. We expected to find you
+here and the room was empty. Are you better?"
+
+"Yes, thanks! I'm all right now," he answered. "I've been out in the yard
+and had a blow. What's Milly looking so scared about? And what was it I
+heard you say about a photograph?"
+
+"Father's likeness has gone," she explained, turning round with tears in
+her eyes. "It was there on the mantelpiece this afternoon and now, when
+we came in to look at it, it has gone!"
+
+"I should think that, if it really has disappeared," de Cartienne
+remarked incredulously, "the servant must have moved it. Ask her."
+
+Miss Hart rang the bell and in the meantime we looked about the room. It
+was all in vain. We could find no trace of it, nor could the servant who
+answered the summons give us any information. She had seen it in its
+usual place early in the morning when she had been dusting. Since then
+she had not entered the room.
+
+"Deuced queer thing!" declared Cecil, when at last we had relinquished
+the search. "Deuced queer!" he repeated meditatively, with his hands
+thrust deep down in his trousers' pockets and his eyes resting idly upon
+de Cartienne's face. "But we can't do anything more, that's certain. We
+really must be off, Milly. We've been here almost an hour already, and
+Brandy and Soda must be getting restless, and you must be famished, I'm
+sure, Morton. Come along! Good-bye, Milly! Keep your spirits up, old
+girl! The governor'll be bound to turn up again in a day or two. And
+don't you worry about the photograph. It must be somewhere."
+
+"But it isn't!" she declared tearfully. "We've looked everywhere! Oh,
+what shall I do?"
+
+Cecil assumed a most lugubrious expression and looked down
+sympathetically into her tear-stained face. She certainly was uncommonly
+pretty.
+
+"You go on, you fellows," he said. "I'll be out in a minute. I'll drive,
+Leonard. Don't think you're quite up to it."
+
+de Cartienne nudged my arm and we went off together and made our way up
+the street to the inn, under the covered archway of which the trap was
+drawn up. In a few minutes Cecil joined us.
+
+"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," he said, as he lighted a cigarette and
+clambered up to the box-seat. "No, you come in front, Morton. That's
+right. Very odd about that photograph, isn't it? It's gone and no
+mistake. We've been having another look round."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed de Cartienne impatiently. "What a fuss about a
+trifle! A girl has no memory at all! I expect she moved it herself. Bet
+you it turns up by the morning."
+
+"I think not," Cecil replied quietly, as he gathered up the reins. "Now
+then, hold on behind!"
+
+We rattled off down the street and out into the open country again at a
+pace which precluded any conversation. The low hedges and stunted trees
+by the roadside seemed to fly past us, and a sudden turn, which almost
+jerked me from my seat, brought us in sight of a wide semi-circle of
+twinkling lights, which seemed to stretch right across the horizon.
+
+"What are they?" I asked, pointing forward.
+
+"Those? Oh, fishing-smacks!" answered Cecil.
+
+"Is that the sea, then?" I asked eagerly.
+
+He burst out laughing.
+
+"Why, what else do you suppose it is?" he exclaimed. "Can't you hear it?"
+
+I bent my head and listened. The faint night breeze was just sufficient
+to carry to our ears the dull, monotonous roar of an incoming tide.
+
+"Not a very cheerful row, is it?" observed Cecil.
+
+"Cheerful! I call it the most infernally miserable sound I ever heard!"
+growled de Cartienne, from the back seat, "enough to give a fellow the
+horrors any day!"
+
+"See that bright light close ahead?" said Cecil, pointing with his whip.
+"That's Borden Tower, where we hang out, you know. We shall be there in a
+minute or two."
+
+"Perhaps!" growled de Cartienne from behind, making a nervous clutch at
+the side of the trap, "Cis, my dear fellow, you're not driving a
+fire-engine, and there's nothing to be gained by this confounded hurry.
+George! I was nearly out that time."
+
+We had turned round a sharp corner into a winding drive, devoid of trees,
+and planted only with stunted shrubs. On one side, between us and the
+shore, was a long, irregular plantation of small fir trees, through which
+the night wind was moaning with a sound not unlike the more distant roar
+of the sea. Directly in front loomed a high dark building, standing out
+with almost startling abruptness against a void of sky and moor.
+
+"Here we are!" exclaimed Cecil, pulling up with a flourish before the
+front entrance. "John, help down the poor, nervous invalid behind, and
+take Brandy and Soda round to the stable at once. They're too hot to
+stand still in this damp air a second."
+
+We passed across a large but somewhat dreary hall into a warm,
+comfortable dining-room. A bright fire was blazing in the grate, and a
+table in the centre of the room was very tastefully laid for dinner.
+
+"Make yourself at home, Morton!" exclaimed Cecil, standing on the
+hearthrug and stretching out a numbed hand to the blaze. "Draw an
+easy-chair up to the fire while James unpacks your traps and sees to your
+room. Leonard, ring the bell, there's a good fellow, and let them know
+we're ready for dinner."
+
+"Thanks; I think I'll go upstairs at once," I remarked.
+
+"All right! Here's James; he'll show you your room. One servant between
+three of us now. Good old James! I say, Morton, no swallow-tails, you
+know."
+
+I nodded and followed the man, who was waiting in the doorway, to my
+room.
+
+After my bare-floored, low-ceilinged attic at the farm, the apartment
+into which I was ushered seemed a very temple of luxury. There was a soft
+carpet upon the floor, many easy chairs, an Oriental divan, mirrors, and
+solid, handsomely carved furniture. Leading out of it on one side was a
+bath-room and on the other a small, cosy sitting-room, or study.
+
+"Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?" inquired the man, after
+he had poured out my hot water and set out the contents of my
+portmanteau.
+
+I shook my head and dismissed him. After a very brief toilet I hastened
+downstairs.
+
+The dinner was remarkably good and I was very hungry; but I found time to
+notice two things. The first was that Cecil drank a great deal more wine
+than at his age was good for him; and the second, that de Cartienne, who
+drank very little himself, concealed that fact as far as he was able and
+passed the bottle continually to Cecil. This did not much surprise me,
+for I had already formed my own opinion of de Cartienne.
+
+After dinner the man who waited upon us brought in some coffee and
+withdrew. Cecil, whose cheeks were a little flushed, and whose eyes were
+sparkling with more than ordinary brightness, rose and stretched himself.
+
+"I say, Leonard," he exclaimed, "let's adjourn to your room and have a
+hand at cards! Shall we?"
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders, but did not offer to move.
+
+"I'm not particularly keen on cards to-night," he remarked, with a yawn.
+"I believe, if you had your own way, you'd play from morning to night."
+
+"Oh, hang it all, there's nothing else to be done!" Cecil answered. "If
+we stay down here we can't smoke, and we shall have old Grumps back
+bothering presently."
+
+"I forgot we couldn't smoke," de Cartienne said, rising. "Come along,
+then!"
+
+"You don't mind, Morton, do you?" Cecil asked, turning towards me. "It's
+awfully cosy up in Len's room."
+
+"Certainly not," I answered, finishing my coffee. "I'll come, but I can't
+play."
+
+"Oh, that doesn't matter! You can watch us for a bit, and you'll soon
+pick it up. Hi, James!" Cecil sang out, as that worthy showed himself at
+the door for a minute, "bring us up some whisky and half a dozen bottles
+of seltzer water into Mr. de Cartienne's room, will you? Look sharp,
+there's a good fellow!"
+
+de Cartienne's rooms, especially his study, were furnished far more
+luxuriously than mine and in excellent taste. The walls and chimney-piece
+were covered with charming little sketches, a few foreign prints,
+photographs, and dainty little trifles of bric-a-brac. Except for the
+photographs, some of which were a little _risque_, it was more like a
+lady's boudoir than a man's sitting-room.
+
+de Cartienne and Cecil seated themselves at a small round table and began
+to play almost immediately. I drew an easy chair up to the fire, and
+closed my eyes as though I intended going to sleep. As a matter of fact,
+I meant to watch the game, and closely, too. But Fate decided otherwise.
+I was really very sleepy, and, though I struggled against it, I was
+obliged to yield in the end. I fell asleep, and it must have been nearly
+two hours before I was awakened by a touch on my arm.
+
+"Wake up, Morton, old chap! It's time we were off to our rooms."
+
+I sat up and looked at my watch. It was past midnight.
+
+Cecil was leaning against the table, with his hands in his pockets,
+looking pale and weary, but exultant.
+
+"I've been in rare luck to-night!" he exclaimed. "Won a couple of ponies
+from poor old Len, and a whole hatful of I O U's. Here they go!" And he
+swept a little pile of crumpled papers into the fire.
+
+I glanced at de Cartienne to see how losing had affected him. Not in the
+ordinary way, at any rate. He was sitting back in his chair, with his
+arms crossed, a cigarette between his teeth and an inscrutable smile upon
+his thin lips. Somehow I did not like his expression. There was something
+a little too closely approaching contempt in it as he watched Cecil's
+action and listened to the exultant ring in his tone--something which
+seemed to express a latent power to reverse the result with ease at any
+time he thought proper.
+
+It was rushing to conclusions, no doubt; but as I glanced from Cecil's
+boyish, handsome face, a trifle dissipated just now, but open and candid,
+to the pale, sallow countenance, the large black eyes, and cynical,
+callous expression of his friend, it seemed to me that I was looking from
+the face of the tempted to the face of the tempter. The one seemed like
+the evil genius of the other.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+                            "AS ROME DOES."
+
+
+I awoke on the following morning with that vague, peculiar sense of
+having entered upon an altogether new phase of life. By degrees my
+semi-somnolent faculties reasserted themselves and I remembered where I
+was. My new life had indeed begun in earnest.
+
+I sprang out of bed and pulled up the blind. It was a very strange
+prospect I looked out upon, after the luxuriant hilly scenery of the home
+where I had lived all my life. Before me was a flat, uncultivated common,
+dotted here and there with a few stunted gorse-bushes and numerous
+sand-heaps. Farther away a long stretch of shingle sloped down to the
+foam-crested sea which, under the grey, sunless sky of the early winter's
+morning, had a dull, forbidding appearance. Though it was not an inviting
+prospect, there was something attractive in its novelty, and, dropping
+the blind, I hastened into the bath-room and began dressing.
+
+It was past eight o'clock when I got downstairs, but I saw no one about,
+so I let myself out by the front door and walked down the drive. The
+grounds were small and soon explored, and, having exhausted them, I
+passed through a wicket-gate into a little plantation of pine-trees and
+thence out on to the common. Then, for the first time in my life, I felt
+a strong sea-breeze, and, with my cap in my hand and my face turned
+seawards, I stood for a few moments thoroughly enjoying it.
+
+"Glad to see that you're an early riser, Mr. Morton. It's a habit which,
+I'm sorry to say, my other pupils have not acquired."
+
+I turned round with a start. A tall, thin man, somewhat past middle age,
+with iron-grey hair and thin, regular features, was standing by my side.
+His eyes were the eyes of a visionary and a poet, and his worn,
+thoughtful face bore the unmistakable stamp of the student. I liked his
+appearance, careless and dishevelled though it was in point of attire,
+and knowing that this must be Dr. Randall, I felt a keen sense of relief.
+
+For, bearing in mind the evident habits and last night's occupation of
+Silchester and de Cartienne, I had begun to wonder somewhat
+apprehensively what manner of man the master of such pupils might be. Now
+I felt sure that the idea which had first occurred to me had been the
+correct one, and that the doings of the night before were carried on
+altogether under the rose. The man James had all the appearance of a
+servant whom it would be easy to bribe. This without doubt had been done.
+
+"Perhaps they haven't lived all their lives in the country, sir, as I
+have," I answered. "I have always been used to getting up early."
+
+"So you are my new pupil?" he said. "Well, Mr. Morton, I'm very pleased
+to see you, and I have an idea that we shall get on very well together. I
+was going to walk down to the sea. Will you come with me?"
+
+I followed him along the tortuous path to the shore, and on the way he
+questioned me about my acquirements, putting me through a sort of
+_viva-voce_ examination, the result of which appeared to satisfy him.
+
+"This is quite a pleasant surprise to me," he said, as we turned back to
+the house. "You are almost as advanced as de Cartienne and far more so
+than Silchester. I suppose you mean to matriculate?"
+
+I told him that I thought so, but he scarcely seemed to hear. Apparently
+his mind had wandered to some other subject and for nearly a quarter of
+an hour he remained absorbed. I learned afterwards that this was a habit
+of his.
+
+With a start he came to himself, and, apologising for his
+absent-mindedness, led the way back to the house and into the
+breakfast-room. The cloth was laid for four and the urn was hissing upon
+the table; but there was no one else down.
+
+"Is neither Lord Silchester nor Mr. de Cartienne up yet, James?" inquired
+Dr. Randall.
+
+James believed not, but would ascertain. In a few moments he returned.
+
+"Lord Silchester desires me to say that he was reading late last night,
+sir, and has overslept himself; but he will be down as soon as possible,"
+James announced solemnly.
+
+Remembering that James had been in attendance upon us in de Cartienne's
+rooms last night, I thought that this was rather cool. But it was no
+concern of mine and I held my peace.
+
+Dr. Randall frowned slightly and looked vexed.
+
+"It appears to me that Silchester does most of his reading at night," he
+remarked. "I could wish that the results of it were a little more
+apparent. And Mr. de Cartienne, James? Has he overslept himself, too?"
+
+"Mr. de Cartienne will be here immediately, sir," the man announced.
+
+We began breakfast. When we were about half-way through the meal, the
+door opened and de Cartienne appeared. He cast an apprehensive glance at
+me, and then, seeing that Dr. Randall greeted him as usual, looked
+relieved.
+
+Presently the doctor left the table, bidding us join him in the study in
+half an hour. Directly the door had closed de Cartienne leaned back in
+his chair and laughed softly to himself.
+
+"Whatever made you get up so early?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
+"Gave me quite a turn when I heard that you were down and alone with
+Grumps; and Cis was in an awful funk. We were afraid that you might let
+out something about last night--accidentally, of course; and then there
+would have been the deuce to pay and no mistake. James, take my plate and
+bring me a brandy-and-soda. Take care the doctor doesn't see you."
+
+"Whose servant is James?" I asked, as he disappeared--"yours or the
+doctor's?"
+
+"The doctor imagines that he's his, I suppose; but he gets a lot more
+from Cis and me than Grumps pays him," de Cartienne explained carelessly.
+"I knew him before he came here, and got him to apply for the situation
+by promising to double his wages."
+
+"And the advantages?" I asked.
+
+"Obvious enough, I should think. You've seen some of them already, and
+you'll see some more before you've been here long."
+
+"I daresay. Perhaps it would be as well for me to tell you, de Cartienne,
+that what I have seen I don't like."
+
+"Very likely not," he answered carelessly. "I thought directly I saw you
+that you were a bit of a prig--I beg your pardon, I should say, rather
+strait-laced. Still, I don't suppose you'll think it worth your while to
+interfere. You can go your way and Cis and I can go ours."
+
+"That would make it a little dull for me," I said slowly. "Perhaps I am
+not quite so strait-laced as you seem to think. I suppose you would teach
+me how to play cards, if I desired to learn?"
+
+"Oh, certainly! And how to use this also," he remarked, drawing a
+latchkey from his pocket and swinging it carelessly backwards and
+forwards.
+
+"I think I will learn, then," I answered. "After all, this place would be
+ghastly dull if I didn't do as you fellows do."
+
+He looked at me searchingly out of his keen dark eyes, but I sipped my
+coffee leisurely and seemed to be quite unconscious of his scrutiny.
+Apparently he was satisfied, for I saw the hard lines of his mouth relax
+a little and he smiled--a disagreeable smile of contemptuous triumph.
+
+"I've no doubt you'll prove an apt pupil," he remarked. "Have you
+finished? If so, we'll go and have a cigarette in my room before we start
+work with Grumps."
+
+"Does the doctor allow smoking?" I asked.
+
+"To tell you the truth, Morton, we've never asked him. What the eye
+doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over, you know. We go on that
+principle, and smoke in our rooms with the doors shut and windows open.
+Come along!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+                        A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.
+
+
+In less than a week's time I was master of the state of affairs at Borden
+Tower. Dr. Randall, with the best possible intentions, was the worst
+possible man that could have been chosen for the guardianship of two such
+pupils as Lord Silchester and Leonard de Cartienne. He was a scholar and
+a pedant, utterly unsuspicious and ignorant of the ways of the world,
+himself so truthful and honourable that he could scarcely have imagined
+deceit possible in others, and certainly not in his own wards. Of the
+servants, James and his wife were the only ones in authority, and they
+were the tools of de Cartienne.
+
+The latter I could not quite understand. The only thing about him
+perfectly clear was that he was just the worst companion possible for
+Silchester. For the rest, he was so clever that his presence here at all
+as a pupil seemed unnecessary. He appeared to be rich and he took a deep
+interest of some sort in Cecil. Seemingly it was a friendly interest, but
+of that I did not feel assured. At any rate, it was an injurious
+association for Cecil, and I determined to do everything in my power to
+counteract it.
+
+To strike at once, to attempt to show him the folly of the courses into
+which he was being led, I saw would be futile. I must have time and
+opportunity. Any violent measures in such a case would be worse than
+useless. My only course, obnoxious though it was, was to join them in
+their pursuits and try to gain some sort of influence over Cecil, while I
+kept him as far as possible from falling into further mischief.
+
+Accordingly, on the first evening after my arrival at Borden Tower, I was
+initiated into the mysteries of poker and Prussian bank, and on
+subsequent occasions I either joined them or looked on. The result in the
+main was pretty much as I had expected. de Cartienne won always when the
+stakes were very large, and Lord Silchester when they were scarcely worth
+having.
+
+The earlier part of the day was by far the pleasanter to me. In the
+morning we worked with Dr. Randall; in the afternoon we always walked or
+rode--in either case, a visit to the "Rose and Crown" was an invariable
+part of the programme--and in the evening, after dinner, we were supposed
+to read until ten o'clock, although the manner in which we really spent
+that portion of the day was far less profitable.
+
+I had intended paying a special visit to Miss Milly Hart on my own
+account; but either by accident or design--at the time I was not sure
+which--de Cartienne always seemed to frustrate my plans. Even to myself I
+would not acknowledge that I had any other motive save pure curiosity;
+but I was still determined by some means or other to see a photograph of
+the missing Mr. Hart. The strange disappearance of the one in the
+sitting-room at the inn--it had never been found--puzzled me, and
+whenever I caught myself thinking of the incident, it was always in
+connection with Leonard de Cartienne. It seemed very absurd, when I
+considered the matter calmly, but nevertheless I could not escape from
+it. It haunted me, as ideas sometimes will.
+
+One afternoon, about two months after my arrival at Borden Towers, Cecil
+and I were reading together in the study--or, rather, I was endeavouring
+to encourage one of his rare fits of industry by helping him through a
+stiff page of Livy--when the door opened suddenly and de Cartienne
+entered with an open telegram in his hand. Seeing me, he stopped short
+and frowned.
+
+"Hallo, Len! What's up?" Cecil exclaimed. "What have you got there? A
+telegram?"
+
+de Cartienne nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, handed it over.
+
+"It's from Fothergill," he explained. "He is coming over to-night, and
+wants us to dine with him."
+
+"Should like to awfully," Cecil said, "but I don't see how we can. Old
+Grumps wouldn't let us go, of course, and I don't see how we can manage
+it without his knowing."
+
+"Don't you? Well, I do," de Cartienne remarked drily. "Grumps is going
+over to Belscombe this evening to take the chair at the literary society
+there. He'll have to dine at six and leave at a quarter to seven. I know
+that, because I heard him give his orders. That will leave us plenty of
+time to get down into the town by eight o'clock; and we shall be all
+right for coming back, of course."
+
+"That's capital!" declared Cecil, shutting up his Livy with a bang. "We
+will have our revenge on old Fothergill to-night. Just what I've been
+looking forward to."
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "I fancy. Fothergill is a bit too
+good for us. I shan't be very keen on cards to-night, I can tell you. I
+lost more money than I cared about last time he was here."
+
+Cecil laughed carelessly.
+
+"You didn't lose as much as I did," he remarked. "But, then, Fothergill
+had all the luck. I never remember such a run of trumps as he held in
+that last deal; and you played villainously, you know--gave him no end of
+tricks."
+
+The very faintest suspicion of a smile--an evil smile it was--trembled on
+de Cartienne's lips, and he turned away towards the window as though to
+hide it.
+
+"I wasn't in very good form that night," he acknowledged. "I must make up
+for it to-night, if we can get Fothergill to give us our revenge."
+
+Cecil drummed upon the table with his fingers and raised his eyebrows
+slightly.
+
+"He can't very well refuse if we ask for it, can he?"
+
+"I suppose not," de Cartienne answered, lounging across the room towards
+the door. "I'll go and see James and let him know that we shall want the
+latchkey."
+
+"All right. And I say, Len," Cecil continued, "we must take Morton with
+us, of course."
+
+de Cartienne turned round with an angry frown upon his dark face.
+
+"I scarcely see how that would be possible," he said stiffly. "I think it
+would be taking rather a liberty with Fothergill. He only asks us two."
+
+In other circumstances I should promptly have refused to be one of the
+party, especially as the invitation appeared to come from a friend of de
+Cartienne's. But the darkening shade which I had seen flash across de
+Cartienne's face reawakened all my suspicions with regard to him and I
+instantly determined that, by some means or other, I would go. His
+evident reluctance to invite me only strengthened my intention, so,
+although he looked at me as if expecting to hear me express my
+indifference as to whether I went or not, I purposely refrained from
+doing anything of the sort.
+
+"Oh, that's all rot!" Cecil protested. "We can't go off and leave Morton
+boxed up here by himself."
+
+"I don't suppose Morton would care much about it," said de Cartienne
+sullenly.
+
+"On the contrary, I should enjoy it very much indeed," I interposed;
+"although, of course, I don't wish to go if you think that your friend
+would object," I added blandly. "It's rather dull here by oneself."
+
+"Of course it is! Morton, old chap, you shall go with us, never fear!"
+Cecil declared vigorously. "Tell you what, Len, if you won't do the
+agreeable and make things right with Fothergill--as you can, if you like,
+of course--I shan't go, so there! Which is it to be--both or neither?"
+
+"Both, of course," de Cartienne answered, with as good grace as possible.
+"I shouldn't have thought Morton would have cared about it, that's all.
+Be ready punctually at half-past seven, you men."
+
+"All right!" exclaimed Cecil, delighted at getting his own way for a
+change. "Good old Len! Morton, pitch that beastly Livy into the drawer
+and come and change your things. We'll have some fun to-night!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+                      ECARTE WITH MR. FOTHERGILL.
+
+
+At a little before eight o'clock de Cartienne, Cecil, and I presented
+ourselves at the bar of the "Bull" Hotel, and inquired for Mr.
+Fothergill. We were shown at once by a waiter into a small private
+sitting-room, brilliantly illuminated and unmistakably cosy. Under the
+chandelier was a small round table glittering with plate and flowers;
+and, standing upon the hearthrug, critically surveying it, was a
+middle-aged, dapper-looking little man, in well-cut evening clothes, with
+a white camellia in his buttonhole.
+
+His hair was slightly tinged with grey, but his moustache was still
+jet-black and elaborately curled and waxed. His forehead was low and his
+full red lips and slightly hooked nose gave him something of a Jewish
+appearance. He had just missed being handsome, and, similarly, had just
+missed being good form; at least, so it seemed to me from my first rapid
+survey, and I did not afterwards change my opinion.
+
+Directly we entered the room he moved forward to meet us, with a smile
+which revealed a very fine set of teeth. I watched him closely as he
+noted the addition to the party, but he betrayed no surprise or
+annoyance. On the contrary, when Cecil had introduced me as his friend
+and fellow-pupil at Borden Tower, he welcomed me with a courtesy which
+was a little effusive. On the whole, I decided that his manners were in
+his favour.
+
+There was some casual conversation, an explanation rather more elaborate
+than seemed to me necessary of his flying visit to Little Drayton, and
+then dinner was announced. Everything had evidently been carefully
+ordered and prepared and was of the best. Mr. Fothergill, whatever his
+shortcomings, made a capital host; and his talk, though a trifle slangy
+and coarse at times, was amusing in the extreme. Altogether, the dinner
+was a success in every respect save one. For four men, two of whom were
+under twenty, there was a great deal too much wine drunk.
+
+I think I scarcely noticed it until the cloth was removed and dessert
+placed upon the table. Then a curious sense of exhilaration in my own
+spirits warned me to be careful and I looked round at once at the others.
+
+Cecil sat directly opposite to me and I saw at a glance how it was with
+him. His hair, which he always kept rather long, but carefully parted,
+was disarranged and untidy; his neat tie had become crumpled and had
+slipped up on one side; his eyes were sparkling, as though with some
+unusual excitement, and there was a glow of colour in his cheeks almost
+hectic in its intensity.
+
+At the head of the table our host was still smiling and debonair, looking
+as though he had been drinking nothing stronger than water; and opposite
+to him de Cartienne was leaning back in his chair with a faint tinge of
+colour in his olive cheeks and a peculiar glitter in his dark eyes which
+was anything but pleasant to look upon. Altogether, the appearance of the
+trio was like a cold douche to me and brought me swiftly back to my
+former watchfulness. I felt instinctively there was mischief brewing.
+
+"I say, Fothergill, let's have a hand at cards!" Cecil exclaimed,
+breaking a momentary silence. "You owe us a revenge, you know! George!
+didn't you clean us out last time we played! We'll clean you out
+to-night, hanged if we won't! What shall it be?"
+
+Mr. Fothergill shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
+
+"Cards--cards! It's always cards!" he answered lightly. "Can't you think
+of something else to do?"
+
+"Yes; hang cards!" muttered de Cartienne.
+
+"All right, I'm agreeable! But what the mischief else is there to do in
+this dull hole?" asked Cecil discontentedly.
+
+"Oh, let's have a chat and a few more glasses of wine!" suggested Mr.
+Fothergill. "I'm so lucky that I hate to play at cards. I always win."
+
+"Do you?" remarked Cecil, a little pettishly. "Well, look here,
+Fothergill! I'll play you at any game you like to-night and beat you--so
+there! I challenge you! You owe me a revenge. I want it!"
+
+Mr. Fothergill looked a little bored.
+
+"Of course, if you put it in that way," he said, "you leave me no
+alternative. But, mind, I warn you beforehand, Silchester, I'm bound to
+win! I don't want to win your money--I had enough last time I was
+here--but if we play I shall win, whether I care about it or not. I'm in
+a tremendous vein of luck just now."
+
+"We'll see about that," Cecil answered doggedly. "Let's ring for some
+cards."
+
+"Or, rather, don't let's play here at all," interrupted de Cartienne.
+"The people are awfully old-fashioned and particular and may want to turn
+as out at eleven o'clock."
+
+"By George! we'll go round to the 'Rose and Crown!'" exclaimed Cecil. "I
+haven't been there for two days. It's a decent little place and we can do
+what we like there," he added, turning to Mr. Fothergill. "You don't
+mind, do you?"
+
+"Not the least in the world!" declared our host, rising and stretching
+himself. "Any place will do for me. The sooner the better, if we are
+going, though. I don't want to be particularly late."
+
+We all rose, despatched the waiter for our overcoats and sallied out into
+the cool night air. After the heated atmosphere of the room in which we
+had been dining, the wintry breeze came as a sudden swift tonic. At the
+corner of the street, looking seaward, Cecil and I stopped simultaneously
+and bared our heads.
+
+"By George! how delicious a walk would be!" he exclaimed, fanning himself
+with his cap. "I say, Phil, old chap, suppose we bolt and do the seashore
+as far as Litton Bay?"
+
+"A splendid idea!" I exclaimed, taking him at his word and linking his
+arm in mine. "Let's do it!"
+
+He burst out laughing.
+
+"Why, Phil, you know we can't!" he said. "I was only joking. Why, what on
+earth would Fothergill think of us serving him such a trick as that?"
+
+"Oh, hang Fothergill!" I cried. "He only wants to win your money. I
+wouldn't play with the fellow if I were you, Cecil. Can't you see he's a
+cad?"
+
+He looked at me, confounded.
+
+"Why, hang it all," he said, "how can you refuse to play with a man after
+you've eaten his dinner? Besides, can't you see that it isn't he who
+wants to play at all? It was I who proposed it and even then he wasn't
+keen."
+
+"All beastly cunning!" I muttered angrily. But I could say no more, for
+de Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill had retraced their steps to look for us
+and Cecil had started off towards them.
+
+In a few moments we reached the "Rose and Crown" and walked straight into
+the little parlour at the back. Miss Milly was sitting there by herself
+in semi-darkness, with a very disconsolate face. She brightened up,
+however, at our entrance.
+
+"All by yourself, Milly?" exclaimed Cecil, letting go my arm and moving
+to her side. "In tears, too, I believe! No news, I suppose?"
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"None! I have almost lost hope," she added.
+
+Then she glanced questioningly at Mr. Fothergill, and Cecil introduced
+him in an informal sort of way and explained our visit.
+
+"We've come to drink up all your wine and have a quiet game at cards
+instead of staying all the evening at the 'Bull.' You can put us in the
+sitting-room out of the way, can't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered eagerly. "How good of you to come here! We've
+been dreadfully quiet the last few days--scarcely anyone in at all, and I
+have been so dull. Come this way, please. I'm so glad I had the fire
+lit."
+
+She led us into the little sitting-room, where we had gone to look for
+Mr. Hart's photograph on my first visit to the place. I pointed to the
+spot where it had been.
+
+"You haven't found the portrait yet?" I remarked.
+
+She shook her head and looked distressed.
+
+"Please don't talk about it," she said. "It seems as though it must have
+been spirited away and it makes me feel uncomfortable even to think about
+it."
+
+We seated ourselves around the table and Mr. Fothergill, producing two
+packs of cards from his pocket, began to deal. At the end of an hour
+Cecil had won nearly fifty pounds, I was as I had started, and de
+Cartienne and Mr. Fothergill were about equal losers.
+
+"I'm getting sick of this!" I declared. "Leave me out of this deal, will
+you?"
+
+They assented and I crossed the room to where Milly was sitting.
+Pretending to examine the fancy-work upon which she was engaged, I bent
+close over her.
+
+"Miss Milly, I want to ask you a question, without letting the others
+hear," I said softly. "Do you understand?"
+
+She nodded. Her large blue eyes, upturned to mine, were filled with
+innocent wonder.
+
+I glanced towards the table. As I had expected, de Cartienne was watching
+us, and I could see that he was straining every nerve to overhear our
+conversation.
+
+"I think I'm about tired of it, too!" he exclaimed, suddenly throwing
+down his cards and rising; but Cecil laid his hand on his shoulder and
+forced him down.
+
+"Nonsense, man! You must play out your hand, at any rate. Then you may
+leave off as soon as you like."
+
+de Cartienne resumed his seat with evident reluctance. I bent over Milly
+again.
+
+"Has anyone else one of those photographs of your father?" I asked. "Is
+there anyone from whom you could borrow one?"
+
+She shook her head and looked towards the empty frame.
+
+"That was the only one," she answered.
+
+"Where did he have them taken?"
+
+"At Lawrence's, just across the way."
+
+"And when?"
+
+"About nine months ago, I think it was. Why do you ask, Mr. Morton?" she
+added anxiously.
+
+"I will tell you another time," I answered, in a low tone.
+
+I glanced towards the table as I said this and was just in time to see de
+Cartienne bend over towards Cecil and whisper something in his ear. The
+latter looked round at us at once.
+
+"You two seem to have found something interesting to talk about," he
+remarked, glancing towards Milly as though requiring an explanation.
+
+"We haven't," she answered, with a sigh.
+
+"Mr. Morton was just asking me---- Oh, Mr. Morton, you're treading on my
+foot!"
+
+I withdrew my foot and tried the effect of a warning glance, but it was
+of no avail.
+
+"Mr. Morton was asking me," she continued, "whether I had not another of
+those photographs."
+
+"And have you--has anyone?" interrupted de Cartienne, fixing his piercing
+black eyes upon her.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No; but perhaps I can get some. They were taken at Lawrence's and I
+suppose he has the negative."
+
+I glanced quickly at de Cartienne. He seemed profoundly uninterested and
+was trying to build a house of the cards he had thrown down. Either he
+must be a perfect actor, or my vague suspicions were very ill-founded at
+that moment. I could not decide which.
+
+"Had enough cards, Cis?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Not I. We'll leave you out for a bit, though. Fothergill and I are going
+to play ecarte."
+
+de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders and threw himself on the sofa.
+
+"I pity you, then," he said drily. "You'll soon see the back of that
+little pile of winnings. Fothergill's a bit too good for you."
+
+"Well, we shall see," Cecil answered, laughing confidently. "I'm not a
+bad hand at ecarte myself."
+
+They began to play. Presently de Cartienne left the room and returned
+with two glasses in his hand.
+
+"Have a lemon-squash, Morton?" he asked carelessly. "There's only a drop
+of whisky in it."
+
+I accepted, for I was thirsty, and half emptied at a draught the tumbler
+which he handed me. As I put down the glass I caught a grim smile on de
+Cartienne's sallow face. But what it meant I could not tell, although it
+made me strangely uneasy.
+
+I watched the play for a few minutes and, to my surprise, Cecil was still
+winning. Then gradually a powerful, overmastering sleepiness crept over
+me. I tried to stave it off by walking about, by talking to Milly, by
+concentrating my thoughts upon the play. It was useless. I felt my eyes
+closing and the sounds and voices in the room grew dimmer and less
+distinct. For a while I remained in a semi-conscious state--half awake
+and half asleep--by sheer force of will. But in the end I was conquered.
+A mist hung before my eyes and all sound died away. I fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+                         A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
+
+
+When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and aching head which usually
+follow either a drugged sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up on
+the sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around in blank surprise. Daylight
+was streaming in through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the gas was
+still burning with a dull, sickly light.
+
+The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night orgie. Several packs of
+cards were lying strewn over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. There
+were half-a-dozen tumblers--one nearly full, another broken into
+pieces--and several empty soda-water bottles lay on the floor.
+
+But the most ghastly sight of all was Cecil's face. He sat on a chair
+drawn up to the table, his chin fallen upon his folded arms, dark rims
+under his eyes, and without a single vestige of colour in his ashen face.
+There was no one else in the room.
+
+I sprang to my feet and hurried to his side.
+
+"Cecil! Cecil!" I cried. "What's the matter, old chap? Wake up, for
+Heaven's sake, and tell me what has happened!"
+
+He pulled himself together and struggled to his feet. Then he looked
+round the room and finally into my anxious face, with an odd little
+laugh, strained and unnatural.
+
+"I've about done it this time," he said. "By George! Let's clear out of
+this before Milly comes down. I shouldn't like her to know that we've
+been here all night. Poor little girl! She'd never forgive herself for
+letting us play here at all."
+
+"Where are the others?" I asked.
+
+"Fothergill has gone back to his hotel and Leonard went with him. I said
+I'd wake you and we'd follow directly, but I think I must have been
+dozing."
+
+"We must go, and at once," I said, "or we shall never be back before the
+doctor gets down. Come, Cecil! Don't tell me anything yet."
+
+I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the room. We crept softly down
+the passage and out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him questions
+and he seemed in no hurry to disclose what had happened, so we hurried
+along in silence, Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze which
+blew in our teeth when we had left the town behind us and had all the
+effect of a strong, invigorating tonic.
+
+At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and, glancing at Cecil, I saw
+the colour creeping back into his cheeks with every breath he took of the
+salt air which came sweeping across the sandy, barren country between us
+and the sea.
+
+When at last we reached our destination and had cautiously made our way
+up to the back entrance, he hesitated. Opposite to us was the
+pine-plantation, which led down to the sea, and between the thickly
+growing black trunks a curious light shone and glistened. I had lived all
+my life in the country and knew well what it was, but Cecil turned round
+and watched it with amazement.
+
+"Look, Phil!" he whispered. "What's that light? It seems as though the
+plantation were on fire!"
+
+"It's the sunrise," I answered. "Shall we go and see it?"
+
+He nodded, and we stole across the lawn, through the wicket-gate and
+along the narrow, winding path, thickly strewn with dried leaves and
+fir-cones, down towards the shore. We were just in time to see the final
+effect. A rim of the sun had already crept into sight, casting brilliant,
+scintillating reflections upon the dancing waves, and the eastern sky was
+tinged from the arc of the heavens to the horizon with streaks of
+brilliantly-hued, fantastically-shaped cloudlets, strewn upon a
+background of the lightest transparent blue.
+
+Far off the sails of a few fishing-smacks glittered like gossamer wings
+upon a fairy ocean; and farther away still, where the banks of orange and
+azure clouds seemed to sink into a blazing sea of polished glass, the
+white funnel of a passing steamer shone like a pillar of fire.
+
+It was a sight so new to Cecil that he stood spellbound, with a look of
+wondering awe upon his pale face. And it was not until we had gazed to
+the full and were retracing our steps in silence through the plantation
+that I cared to speak of the events of the night.
+
+"Philip," he said solemnly, when I mentioned the subject, "there's no one
+to blame for this night's work but myself. To do Leonard and that fellow
+Fothergill justice, they both continually urged me to leave off playing,
+but I wouldn't. It seemed as though the luck must change at every deal
+and so I went on, and on, and on. What a fool I was!"
+
+"And the result?" I asked anxiously.
+
+"I owe Fothergill between six and seven hundred pounds and I haven't as
+many shillings."
+
+I stopped short and looked at him in horror.
+
+"Seven hundred pounds! Why, Cis, how on earth came you to play up to that
+figure and with a man you know so little of?"
+
+"Oh, the man's all right--at least, he's no sharper, if you mean that!"
+Cecil answered doggedly. "It was my own fault altogether. He's a better
+player than I am, and, of course, won."
+
+"But he ought not to have gone on," I protested. "I don't know much about
+such matters, but I feel sure that a gentleman wouldn't sit down and win
+seven hundred pounds from a boy of your age. You're not eighteen yet, you
+know, Cis."
+
+"I don't quite see what age has got to do with it," he answered gloomily.
+"As regards Fothergill, I don't feel particularly sweet on him just now,
+as you may imagine; but it wasn't his fault at all. I made him go on,
+and, you know, the winner is a great deal in the hands of the loser in a
+case of that sort. He kept on wanting to go and he went at last. I should
+have gone on playing till now, I think, if he hadn't."
+
+"When does he expect you to settle up?" I asked.
+
+"I've got to see him this afternoon. I say, you'll come down with me, old
+chap, won't you?" he pleaded. "I shall have to ask for a little time, of
+course."
+
+"Yes, I'll go with you," I promised. "How shall you try to raise the
+money?"
+
+"I haven't the faintest idea," he acknowledged gloomily. "I've overdrawn
+my allowance already several hundreds. The mater is as poor as a church
+mouse and I simply daren't ask my Uncle Ravenor, though he's as rich as
+Croesus. He might disinherit me."
+
+We reached the house and stole softly up the back stairs to our rooms.
+Cecil threw himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed. But I was in no
+humour for sleep, and after a cold bath I dressed and got downstairs in
+time for breakfast. To my surprise, de Cartienne was in the morning-room,
+carefully dressed as usual and with no sign in his appearance or manner
+of having been out all night. He was chatting lightly with Dr. Randall
+about some trivial matter connected with the meeting which the latter had
+attended the previous evening.
+
+"Cecil is late again," remarked the doctor, with a frown, as we began
+breakfast. "James, go to Lord Silchester's room and ask him how long he
+will be."
+
+James retired and reappeared in a few minutes with a grave face.
+
+"Lord Silchester desires me to beg you to excuse him this morning," was
+the message which he brought back. "He has a very bad headache and has
+had no sleep."
+
+Dr. Randall, who was one of the kindest-hearted men breathing, looked
+compassionate.
+
+"Dear me!" he said. "I'm very sorry to hear that! Certainly we will
+excuse him. Will he have anything sent up?"
+
+"A cup of tea, sir, only. I have ordered it in the kitchen."
+
+"Poor fellow! It's strange how he suffers from these attacks! I'm afraid
+he can't be very strong," remarked the doctor absently, as he buttered
+himself a piece of toast.
+
+de Cartienne and I exchanged glances, but we said nothing.
+
+Directly after breakfast the doctor took us into the study and we began
+the morning's labours. It happened that, in working out a series of
+algebraic questions, de Cartienne and I used a great deal of paper, and
+when the doctor looked for a piece to explain the working of a rather
+stiff quadratic, the rack was empty.
+
+"Have either of you a piece of wastepaper in your pockets?" he asked.
+"The back of an envelope, or anything will do. I see it is lunch-time, so
+it is scarcely worth while sending for any."
+
+I felt in all my pockets, but they were empty. de Cartienne drew an
+envelope from his pocket and handed it to the doctor. The moment he had
+parted with it, however, I saw him give a sudden start and he seemed as
+though about to make an effort to regain possession of it. But he was too
+late, for the doctor was already fast covering it with figures.
+
+de Cartienne quitted his seat and stood looking over his shoulder,
+probably hoping that I should do the same. But I remained where I was,
+taking care to manifest my interest in the problem by asking frequent
+questions. The moment the doctor had finished his rapid figuring and
+solved the equation, I stretched out my hand for it eagerly.
+
+"May I see it, sir?" I begged. "I fancy you've made a mistake in the
+values."
+
+He handed it across the table at once, with a quiet smile.
+
+"I think not, Morton," he said. "Examine it for yourself."
+
+de Cartienne moved round to my side, with nervously twitching lips and an
+ugly light in his eyes.
+
+"One moment, Morton," he said. "I won't keep it longer."
+
+I laid a hand upon it, and pushed him back with the other.
+
+"My turn first, please. Isn't that so, Dr. Randall?"
+
+He nodded genially, not noticing the suppressed excitement in de
+Cartienne's manner.
+
+"Certainly. I'm glad to find you both so interested in it. Let me know
+about this mistake at lunch-time, Morton," he added, smiling. "I'm going
+for a stroll round the garden now, and I should advise you to do the
+same. We've had a close morning's work."
+
+He rose and left the room. de Cartienne watched the door close and then
+turned to me.
+
+"Morton," he said quickly, "I want that envelope. There are some
+memoranda on the reverse side which concern my private affairs. I need
+not say more, I suppose."
+
+"Keep your hands to yourself, de Cartienne!" I answered, shaking him off.
+"I shall not give you the envelope till I have examined it."
+
+"You cad!" he hissed out, his voice shaking with fury. "How dare you
+attempt to pry into my private affairs? Give me the envelope, or
+I'll----"
+
+"You'll what?" I answered, standing up, putting the envelope in my pocket
+and facing him. "Look here, de Cartienne, I'm not going to attempt to
+justify my conduct to you. On the face of it, it may seem to be taking a
+mean advantage, but I don't care a fig about that. I've made up my mind
+what to do, and all the blustering in the world won't make me alter it. I
+am going to look at the reverse side of this envelope. You----"
+
+I ceased and with good reason, for, with a sudden, panther-like spring,
+he had thrown himself upon me, and his slender white fingers were
+grasping at my throat. It was a brief struggle, but a desperate one, for
+he clung to me with a strength which seemed altogether out of proportion
+to his slim body and long, thin arms.
+
+I was in no mood for trifling, however, and, suddenly putting forth all
+my strength, I seized him by the middle, and sent him backwards, with a
+crash of fallen furniture, into a corner of the room. Before he could
+recover himself, I drew out the envelope from my pocket and looked at it.
+
+There was nothing on the reverse side but the address and the postmark.
+They were quite sufficient for me, however. The postmark was Mellborough
+and the handwriting was the peculiar, cramped handwriting of Mr. Marx.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+                              FORESTALLED.
+
+
+For a full minute neither of us moved. Then de Cartienne rose slowly to
+his feet and walked to the door.
+
+"Here, take this!" I said, holding out the envelope towards him. "The
+private memoranda upon it may be useful to you."
+
+He snatched it from my fingers and tore it into atoms. Then he walked
+quietly away, with an evil look upon his face.
+
+At luncheon Cecil appeared, white as a ghost, and looking anxious and
+disturbed, as well he might. Dr. Randall was quite uneasy at his
+appearance, and acquiesced at once when I asked for permission to take
+him for a drive during the afternoon. de Cartienne sat silent throughout
+the meal, except for a few sympathising sentences to Cecil, and left the
+room at the first opportunity.
+
+At three o'clock my dog cart was brought round and Cecil and I drove
+away. We scarcely spoke until we were in the streets of Drayton, and
+then, rousing myself, I bade him pluck his spirits up, and assured him
+vaguely that I would see him through it somehow. He thanked me, but
+seemed very despondent.
+
+We went to the "Bull," and inquired for Mr. Fothergill. He was in the
+coffee-room, we were told, and there we found him lunching.
+
+"So good of you fellows to come and look me up!" he exclaimed, welcoming
+us cordially. "Waiter, a bottle of Pommery. Don't shake your head now,
+Lord Silchester. It'll do you good. I can see you're a bit seedy this
+morning."
+
+Cecil smiled feebly.
+
+"I'm not quite up to the mark," he admitted, "Just a bit of a
+headache--that's all. I say, Mr. Fothergill," he went on, plunging at
+once _in medias res_, "I'm awfully sorry, but I shan't be able to settle
+up with you to-day."
+
+"Settle up with me!" repeated Mr. Fothergill, putting down his glass
+untasted, and looking surprised. "I don't understand you. Settle what
+up?"
+
+"Why, the money I lost last night," Cecil explained.
+
+Mr. Fothergill leaned back in his chair and looked into Cecil's white,
+anxious face with an astonishment which, if simulated, was certainly
+admirably done. Then he broke into a little laugh.
+
+"My dear Lord Silchester," he said energetically, "you can't for one
+moment suppose that I expected anything of the sort. Why, I scarcely took
+our play seriously at all, and I should very much prefer that we said no
+more about it. Pray don't be offended," he added, hastily, for the
+sensitive colour had flushed into Cecil's cheeks. "I'll tell you how
+we'll arrange it. You shall give me your I O U's and pay them just as it
+is convenient. Any time within the next five or six years will do. But as
+to taking a sum like that from a b--a man who is not of age--why, it's
+absurd! I feel rather ashamed of myself for having been so fortunate."
+
+A look of intense relief had stolen into Cecil's face, but the reaction
+was a little too sudden. He left us abruptly and stood looking out of the
+window for a minute or two. Then he returned, smiling, and held out his
+hand to Mr. Fothergill.
+
+"Mr. Fothergill, you're a brick!" he declared emphatically.
+
+"Not another word, please!" Mr. Fothergill answered, smiling. "Now, look
+here, Lord Silchester," he added. "Drink this glass of wine."
+
+Cecil obeyed him promptly.
+
+"And now you'll be so good as to have some luncheon with me," Mr.
+Fothergill continued. "I don't care what you say. I don't believe you've
+eaten anything to-day. Waiter, bring me those other cutlets I ordered and
+the game-pie, and--yes, I think we might venture on another bottle of
+wine."
+
+"Mr. Morton, you must join us. Clever animal of yours--that one outside,"
+he rattled on lightly; "but I'd have her taken out for an hour, if I were
+you. It's too cold for her to be standing about. Shall I ring the
+ostler's bell and tell him? And then, if you will, you might drive me
+down to the station, when you're ready to go. My train leaves a little
+before five."
+
+Whatever my former opinion of Mr. Fothergill had been, I felt bound to
+change it now. He was showing tact, good-nature, and a decidedly
+gentlemanly spirit. I had, in truth, eaten very little lunch at Borden
+Tower and Cecil none at all; and we proceeded to make good the omission.
+
+When, an hour or two later, we left Mr. Fothergill at the station, we
+were both of one mind concerning him, and we had both promised to accept
+his cordial invitation to run up to town and see him before long.
+
+On our way home Cecil stopped at the "Rose and Crown," and went in to
+make his peace with Milly. I promised to call for him and went on to the
+photographer's up the street. Mr. Lawrence appeared at once from a
+back-room, which, I presume, was the studio, wiping his hands upon a not
+particularly clean-looking towel.
+
+I paid him in advance for a dozen photographs, promising to come in and
+have them taken next time I was in the town. Then I explained what was
+really the purport of my visit: Had he preserved the negative of the
+photograph which he had taken of Mr. Hart?
+
+Certainly he had, he assured me. I told him about the date and his head
+and shoulders disappeared into a cupboard. In a few minutes he withdrew
+them and called out sharply for his assistant.
+
+"Fenton," he exclaimed angrily, "you've been at this cupboard!"
+
+Fenton, who was a tall, ungainly lad of most unprepossessing appearance,
+shook his head.
+
+"I haven't been near it, sir!" he declared.
+
+Mr. Lawrence looked incredulous.
+
+"There is a negative missing!" he said sharply; "No one else could have
+meddled with it!"
+
+"I don't know anything about it," the boy answered doggedly. "Perhaps
+it's upstairs."
+
+Mr. Lawrence abandoned his search.
+
+"If you'll excuse me a moment, sir," he said, "I'll have a look among the
+old ones."
+
+I nodded and he closed the door and disappeared. Fenton would have gone,
+too, but I stopped him.
+
+"Look here!" I said quickly; "see this?"
+
+I held out a five-pound note.
+
+He opened his eyes wide and looked at it longingly.
+
+"Well, it's yours if you'll tell me what you've done with the negative of
+Mr. Hart's photograph. Quick!"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Should you split to the governor?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, I sold it for a sovereign to a young gentleman what inquired
+for it a few minutes ago. A thin, dark chap he is. I don't know his name,
+but I've seen him driving with you."
+
+I threw him the note and left the place. I had now no doubt about the
+matter at all. de Cartienne had stolen the photograph of Mr. Hart from
+the "Rose and Crown," and had bought the negative. Why?
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+                           A GLEAM OF LIGHT.
+
+
+After leaving the photographer's shop, I walked slowly across the little
+market-place and down the narrow street towards the "Rose and Crown." My
+recent discovery had given me a good deal to think about, or rather, had
+afforded me matter for a variety of wild conjectures, but I could follow
+none of them to a very satisfactory conclusion. I was like a man groping
+in the dark. I had stumbled upon several very extraordinary and
+inexplicable facts; but what connection, if any, they had with one
+another, or how to link them together, I could not tell.
+
+I have always been somewhat absent-minded and, with my brain in such a
+whirl, it was not a very remarkable thing that I took a wrong turning.
+The moment I had discovered it I stopped short and looked round. I was in
+a little street that led past the back entrance of the "Rose and Crown."
+It was scarcely a public thoroughfare.
+
+I had already turned on my heel to retrace my steps, when I saw two
+figures standing talking at the back door of the inn. One I knew at a
+glance to be Milly Hart. Her companion was standing with his back to me,
+a muffler round his neck and his cap slouched over his eyes. In the gloom
+of the fast-falling twilight I did not at first recognise him; but when
+he turned round with a start at the sound of my approaching footsteps and
+withdrew his arm with a sudden movement from around his companion's
+waist, something in the motion and figure seemed familiar to me.
+
+My approach seemed to discompose them not a little. Milly stepped back at
+once into the doorway and disappeared; her companion, without waiting to
+make any adieu, turned round and walked swiftly away. As he crossed the
+street to make use of the only exit from it--a narrow passage leading
+through a court--I had a better view of him. He kept his back to me as
+much as possible and seemed to be using every endeavour to escape
+recognition. But although I could not be quite certain, I was pretty sure
+that it was Leonard de Cartienne--de Cartienne, who never missed an
+opportunity of sneering at Milly's innocent blue eyes and baby face.
+
+I turned back, and hurried round to the front entrance of the "Rose and
+Crown." In the parlour I found Cecil and Milly sitting very close
+together upon a sofa.
+
+"Hallo, old chap, you haven't been long!" remarked Cecil, rising
+reluctantly.
+
+"I should have been here before," I answered, looking steadily at Milly,
+"but I took a wrong turning and got round the back of this place somehow.
+Saw you, didn't I, Miss Milly?" I remarked.
+
+She raised her eyebrows and looked at me wonderingly out of her placid
+blue eyes.
+
+"Me? Oh, no! I have only just come downstairs, have I not, Cecil? It must
+have been one of the maids."
+
+Milly and I exchanged a steady gaze, her eyes meeting mine without
+drooping and her manner betraying only a mild surprise. It was a
+revelation to me, a lesson which I did not easily forget.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure," I said, turning away. "It was rather
+dark and no doubt I was mistaken. Strange, too; I thought it was de
+Cartienne with whom you were talking."
+
+Cecil laughed carelessly.
+
+"My dear fellow, you must have been dreaming," he said; "de Cartienne has
+not been here at all."
+
+"Ready, Cecil?" I asked, abandoning the subject. "I think we've kept Bess
+waiting about long enough."
+
+"I'll come," he replied, drawing on his gloves. "I've scarcely had a
+moment with you, Milly, though, have I? No news?"
+
+She shook her head sadly and the big tears stood in her eyes. There was
+no mistaking her earnestness now.
+
+"None about my father. My uncle and aunt are coming to stay here. I
+expect them tonight."
+
+"Horrid nuisance that is!" remarked Cecil, _sotto voce_. "Never mind, you
+won't be so lonely, little woman, will you? And you won't have so much to
+look after. I must take you for a drive as soon as we get a fine, clear
+day; that'll bring some colour into your cheeks. Good-bye!"
+
+She came to the door and watched us drive off. Cecil took the reins and I
+climbed to his side, and, folding my arms, sat for a while in gloomy
+silence. Then suddenly a gleam of light, or what I hoped might prove so,
+broke in upon me and I laid my hand upon Cecil's arm.
+
+"Pull up, old chap--quick!" I exclaimed.
+
+He did so, and looked at me wonderingly.
+
+"Turn round and drive back again as fast as you can," I said, my voice
+trembling a little with excitement; "I want to ask Milly Hart a
+question."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+                        DR. SCHOFIELD'S OPINION.
+
+
+In ten minutes we were in the streets of Little Drayton again, and Cecil
+had brought the dog cart to a standstill outside the "Rose and Crown." He
+would have gone in with me, but I begged him not to. I jumped down and
+walked straight into the little parlour. Milly was sitting there alone,
+gazing absently into the fire. She looked up in surprise at my sudden
+entrance, and half rose.
+
+"Milly, I want to ask you a question," I said, going up to her side.
+"It's about your father's disappearance."
+
+"Yes!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What is it? Oh, do tell me quickly!"
+
+"It's only an idea. Did Mr. Hart ever suffer from any brain disorder at
+any time? That's all I want to know. Has his mind always been quite
+strong?"
+
+She did not answer for a moment and my heart beat fast. Looking at her
+closely, I could see that the colour had flushed into her cheeks and
+there was a troubled light in her eyes.
+
+"He has had one or two severe illnesses," she admitted slowly; "brain
+fever once; and I'm afraid he used to drink too much now and then. The
+doctor told him that he must be very careful not to excite himself."
+
+"Who was the doctor and where does he live?" I asked quickly.
+
+"Dr. Schofield. He lives on the Lincoln Road, about a mile away. Why have
+you asked me this?" she added anxiously.
+
+I evaded a direct reply.
+
+"Never mind now," I said. "If anything comes of it, I will let you know."
+
+She tried to detain me with further questions, but I hurried away and she
+did not follow me out of the door.
+
+"Cis," I said, as I scrambled up to his side, "I want you to go home by
+the Lincoln Road and call at Dr. Schofield's. It isn't far out of the
+way."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"All right. You haven't found out anything about old Hart, have you? What
+was the question you went back to ask Milly?"
+
+"Only about her father's health. No; I haven't found out anything. It's
+only an idea of mine I want to clear up."
+
+Cecil looked as though he thought I might have told him what the idea
+was, but he said nothing. In a few minutes he pulled up outside a neat,
+red-brick house, which, as a shining brass plate indicated, was Dr.
+Schofield's abode.
+
+The doctor was in and disengaged. He came at once into the waiting-room,
+where I had been shown--a respectable family practitioner, with
+intelligent face and courteous manner.
+
+I explained my position as an acquaintance of Miss Hart's, interested in
+the mysterious disappearance of her father. It had occurred to me to make
+inquiries as to the state of his health, or, rather, his constitution, I
+added. Perhaps his prolonged absence might be accounted for by sudden and
+dangerous illness. Could Dr. Schofield give me any information?
+
+His manner was encouraging. He bade me take a seat and went into the
+matter gravely.
+
+"To tell you the truth," he said, "I am rather surprised that I have not
+been appealed to before. In an ordinary case I should feel bound to
+maintain a strict secrecy with regard to the ailments of my patients, but
+this is different. As you have asked me this question, I feel bound to
+tell you what I would not otherwise divulge. Mr. Hart was my patient on
+two several occasions during the last two years for delirium tremens, and
+once within my recollection he had a distinct touch of brain fever."
+
+"His mind would not be very strong, then?" I remarked.
+
+Dr. Schofield hesitated.
+
+"He had a wonderful constitution," he said slowly--"a constitution of
+iron. In ordinary circumstances I cannot bring myself to think that he
+could suddenly and completely have lost his reason. But supposing he had
+received some severe shock, such as a railway accident, or something of
+that sort, why, then it would be possible, even probable, he might become
+a raving lunatic in a moment."
+
+"And would his madness be incurable?"
+
+"If properly treated, with a knowledge of his past ailment--no," answered
+Dr. Schofield; "but if he were treated just like an ordinary madman in a
+pauper lunatic asylum, he would probably never recover. He would become
+worse and worse and finally be incurable. I see two objections to
+accepting any theory of this sort as accounting for his disappearance,"
+the doctor continued, after a short pause. "In the first place the shock
+would have to be violent and unexpected, and this seems improbable; in
+the next place, he would surely have had some letter or something about
+him which would have led to his identification!"
+
+"If the shock were the result of foul play, these would be destroyed," I
+suggested.
+
+"Undoubtedly; but whence the foul play? Hart is known to have had only a
+few pounds with him when he left."
+
+"Perhaps he had something in his keeping more valuable than money," I
+remarked.
+
+"What?"
+
+"A secret."
+
+"Have you any grounds for such a belief?" the doctor asked curiously.
+
+I hesitated. In my own mind I believed that I had; but for the present,
+at any rate, this was best kept to myself. I answered quite truthfully,
+however.
+
+"I have made a few inquiries here and there," I said, "and I have heard
+it hinted that he had some secret means of replenishing his purse. He has
+been known more than once to leave here with only a few sovereigns in his
+pocket and to come back with his sovereigns turned into banknotes."
+
+"I remember hearing some such tale," the doctor remarked. "I'm afraid it
+is all rather vague, though."
+
+"I'm very much obliged to you, Dr. Schofield," I assured him, rising to
+take my leave.
+
+He followed me to the door and then returned to his interrupted dinner. I
+mounted into the dog cart and we were soon bowling through the darkness
+towards Borden Tower.
+
+"Get anything out of the old chap?" Cecil asked.
+
+"Not much. I'm just a little wiser than I was before, that's all. Beastly
+sorry to keep you waiting so long!"
+
+"Oh, that's all right! But I say, Phil," he added, "what is this idea of
+yours? You can tell me, can't you?"
+
+"If it comes to anything, I will," I assured him. "But at present it is
+altogether too vague and you would only laugh at it. Don't ask me
+anything more about it yet, there's a good fellow."
+
+"You're very close, all of a sudden," he grumbled. "Why can't you tell
+me?"
+
+"Because I'm afraid of your letting it out to someone whom I don't want
+to know anything about it," I answered.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Ah, well, perhaps you're right!" he said. "I couldn't keep anything back
+from Milly."
+
+I echoed his laugh, but held my peace. It was not Milly alone from whom I
+wished my present idea to be kept a secret. In fact, I had not thought of
+Milly at all. I was only anxious that de Cartienne should remain
+altogether in the dark as to my clue; and for a remarkably good reason.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+                             AN INVITATION.
+
+
+We drove straight into the courtyard, having no groom with us and entered
+the house from the back. As we passed the little room on the ground floor
+given up for our sole use as a repository for cricket-nets,
+fishing-tackle, guns, spare harness, and such like appliances, I opened
+the door, intending to hang my whip up. To my surprise de Cartienne was
+there in an old coat, with his sleeves turned up, cleaning a gun. He
+looked up and greeted us as we entered.
+
+"What a time you men have been! What have you been up to in Little
+Drayton?"
+
+"Oh, we had lunch with your friend Fothergill and shacked about," Cecil
+answered. "Tell you what, Len, he's a very decent fellow."
+
+de Cartienne was examining the lock of his gun with great attention, and
+in the dusk I could not catch his expression.
+
+"Oh, Fothergill's all right!" he answered. "You didn't find him very
+hungry for his winnings, did you?"
+
+"I should think not," Cecil replied enthusiastically. "Why, I believe he
+was actually annoyed with himself for having won at all. I've given him
+my I O U's."
+
+"He'll most likely tear them up," de Cartienne remarked. "He's beastly
+rich and he can't want the money."
+
+"Where did you drop across him, Len?" asked Cecil, seating himself upon a
+chest and lighting a cigarette.
+
+"He's a friend of my governor's. I've known him ever since I was a kid,"
+de Cartienne answered slowly. "There, I think that'll do!" critically
+looking at the gleaming muzzle which he held in his hand.
+
+"Why this sudden fit of industry?" inquired Cecil, yawning. "Going to do
+any shooting?"
+
+de Cartienne nodded and began deliberately pulling the gun to pieces.
+
+"Yes; I've had a long day indoors to-day and I mean to make up for it by
+potting some wild duck to-morrow. Hilliers told me that he'd heard of
+some very fair sport round by Rushey Ponds last week. You'd better come
+with me."
+
+"Thanks, I'll see," Cecil answered. "I'm not very keen on wild duck
+potting."
+
+"Haven't you been out all day, then, de Cartienne?" I asked--"not even to
+Drayton?"
+
+"Not outside the house," he answered. "Do I look like it?"
+
+He pointed to his slippered feet, his old clothes, and held up his hands,
+black with oil and grease, I took in the details of his appearance,
+feeling a little bewildered. It seemed barely possible that he could have
+been in Little Drayton an hour ago.
+
+The dressing-bell rang out and we hurried off to our rooms, for Dr.
+Randall, easy-going enough in some things, was strictness itself with
+regard to our punctuality at dinner-time. But no sooner had I seen de
+Cartienne safely in his room than I softly made my way downstairs again
+and crossed the yard to the stables.
+
+It was as I had expected. The stall in which de Cartienne kept his mare
+was carefully closed, but through the chinks I could see that a lamp was
+burning inside.
+
+I tried the door softly, but it was locked. Then I knocked. There was no
+answer. Turning away, I entered the next stall and, mounting a
+step-ladder, looked over the partition.
+
+I saw very much what I had expected to see--de Cartienne's thoroughbred
+mare splashed all over with mud and still trembling with nervous fatigue,
+and by her side Dick, the stable-boy, holding a wet sponge in his hand
+and looking up at me with a scared, disconsolate expression.
+
+"Oh, it be you, be it, Muster Morton?" he exclaimed rather sullenly.
+
+I looked down at Diana.
+
+"How came she in that exhausted condition?" I asked. "And why have you
+locked the door?"
+
+Dick hesitated, and I tossed him a half-crown.
+
+"The truth now, Dick," I said. "And I won't let Mr. de Cartienne know
+that I've seen her."
+
+He brightened up at once and pocketed the half-crown.
+
+"That's kind o' yer, sir!" he exclaimed, evidently much relieved. "All I
+know, sir, is that Muster de Cartienne he come in riding like mad along
+the Drayton Road 'bout 'arf an hour ago, and he says to me, 'Dick, take
+Diana, lock her up in the stable and don't let no one know as she's been
+out. Just attend to her yourself and rub her down carefully, for I've
+been obliged to ride fast.' And with that he guv me summut and hoff he
+went into the 'ouse."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," I said, getting down from the ladder, "that's all I
+wanted to know." And I crossed the yard to the house again and hurried
+upstairs to change my things.
+
+We had two deliveries of letters at Borden Tower, and just as we were
+leaving the dinner-table that evening the late post arrived. There was a
+letter for me, a somewhat unusual occurrence, and a single glance at the
+arms and the bold, characteristic handwriting set me longing to open it,
+for it was from Mr. Ravenor. As soon as the cloth was cleared I did so.
+
+  "My dear Philip," it commenced, "I am thinking of travelling for
+  several years, perhaps for longer, and should like to see you before I
+  go. Come and stay here for a few days. I am writing Dr. Randall and
+  also Cecil, who will accompany you. You will leave Borden Tower
+  to-morrow and I will send to Mellborough to meet the 5.18. Bring some
+  clothes, as there will be some people stopping here.--Yours,
+
+                                                  "Bernard Ravenor."
+
+I looked up from the letter with a great sense of relief and met Cecil's
+delighted gaze.
+
+"Hurrah, old chap!" he exclaimed, only half under his breath. "Won't we
+have a rare old time?"
+
+"Cave!" I whispered, for the doctor was looking our way.
+
+"More vacation," he remarked, in a grumbling tone, which was made up for,
+however, by a good-natured smile. "Upon my word, I don't know how Mr.
+Ravenor imagines you're ever going to learn anything! However, I suppose
+you must go."
+
+de Cartienne looked up inquiringly.
+
+"We're going to stay at Ravenor Castle for a week," Cecil explained.
+"We're off to-morrow."
+
+I leaned forward and watched de Cartienne's face intently. There was an
+expression in it which I could not analyse. It might have been pleasure,
+or apprehension, or indifference. Though I watched him narrowly, I could
+not make up my mind whether he was more dismayed or gratified at the
+prospect of our visit.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+                            A METAMORPHOSIS.
+
+
+It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis had taken place
+within the walls of Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it we
+had the first intimation of its altered aspect. Instead of the one or two
+solitary lights shining above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of
+illumination, and when we drew up at the great front door the change was
+still mere apparent. Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving
+about the hall. From open doors there came the sound of laughing voices,
+and even Mr. Ravenor's manner, as he came out to meet us, seemed altered.
+
+"Come in and have some tea here," he said, leading the way to one of the
+smaller rooms. "Your mother is here, Cecil."
+
+We followed him into Lady Silchester's favourite apartment. Several
+ladies and one or two men were lounging on divans and in easy chairs
+around a brightly-blazing fire. Lady Silchester, who was presiding at a
+green-and-gold Sevres tea-service, welcomed us both with a languid smile.
+
+"My dear Cis, how you have grown!" she said, leaning back in her chair
+and leisurely sipping her tea. "I declare I had no idea that I had a son
+your height, sir! Had you, Lord Penraven?"
+
+Lord Penraven, who was lounging by her side with his elbow upon the
+mantelpiece, stroked a long, fair moustache vigorously and answered with
+emphasis:
+
+"'Pon my word, I hadn't the slightest idea. Seems almost impossible!"
+
+"Let me give you boys some tea!" Lady Silchester said, in her sweetest
+tone.
+
+"None for me, thanks, mother," replied Cecil. "Why, Ag--Miss Hamilton, is
+that really you over in the corner?" he exclaimed, rising and crossing
+the room. "How awfully jolly!"
+
+Lady Silchester shrugged her shoulders and turned to me.
+
+"Mr. Morton?"
+
+I took the cup which she had filled and the conversation which our
+entrance had interrupted flowed on again. Presently Mr. Ravenor, who had
+been standing on the hearthrug talking to a stately, grey-haired lady who
+occupied the seat of honour--a black oak arm-chair drawn up to the
+fire,--moved over to my side and dropped into a vacant seat between Lady
+Silchester and myself.
+
+"Well, Philip," he said softly, "you seem lost in thought. Are you
+wondering whether a magician's wand has touched Ravenor Castle?"
+
+"It all seems very different," I answered.
+
+"Of course. Nothing like change, you know. It is only by comparison that
+we can appreciate. Stagnation sharpens one's appetite for gaiety, and one
+must go through a course of overwork before one can taste the full
+sweetness of an idle country life."
+
+Then Mr. Ravenor was silent for a minute, leaning back in his chair and
+looking steadily into the fire, and by the dancing, fitful light of the
+flames I could see that the old weariness and deep indefinable sadness
+had stolen into his pale face and dark eyes. It was only a passing
+change. The sound of the laughing voices around seemed suddenly to
+galvanise him into consciousness of the _role_ which he was playing and
+the expression faded away. Someone asked him a question and he answered
+it with a light jest. Once more he was the courteous, smiling host, whose
+sole thought appeared to be the entertainment of his guests. But I knew
+that there was a background.
+
+The dressing-bell rang and the gossiping assembly broke up. Mr. Ravenor,
+standing with the opened door in his hand, exchanged little happy
+speeches with most of the ladies as they swept out. When they were all
+gone he turned to Cecil and me and looked at us critically, with a faint
+smile upon his lips.
+
+"Well, are you ready for your matric., Cecil?" he asked.
+
+Cecil made a wry face.
+
+"Shall be soon, uncle!" he declared hopefully, "I'm getting on now first
+rate. Morton here makes me work like a Trojan."
+
+"That's right! And you, Philip? I hope my lazy nephew doesn't keep you
+back."
+
+"Oh, Morton's all right for his matric. whenever he likes to go in for
+it!" broke in Cecil.
+
+Mr. Ravenor nodded.
+
+"Good! You'd better go and dress now, both of you; Richards is waiting to
+show you your rooms."
+
+We passed up the great oak staircase, and on the first corridor we came
+face to face with a slim little figure in a white frock, walking demurely
+by the side of her maid, with her ruddy, golden hair tumbled about her
+oval face and an expectant light in her dancing blue eyes.
+
+Directly she saw us she flew into Cecil's arms.
+
+"Oh, Cis, Cis, Cis, how delightful! How glad I am that you have come!
+They only just told me! And how do you do, Mr. Morton?"
+
+She held out a very diminutive palm and looked up at me with a beaming
+smile.
+
+"I'm quite well, thank you, Lady Beatrice," I answered, looking down with
+keen pleasure into her sweet, childish face, and repressing a strong
+desire to take her up in my arms, as Cecil had done, and give her a kiss.
+
+"You remember me, then?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" she answered; "I remember you quite well! Your name is Philip,
+isn't it? You told me that I might call you by it."
+
+"Well, we must go now, dear," Cecil said, stroking her hair. "We've got
+to dress for dinner, you know."
+
+"Oh!" The exclamation was drawn out and the little face fell. Suddenly it
+brightened.
+
+"Cecil, what do you think? I've got a pony, a real pony of my own. Will
+you come for a ride with me to-morrow? Please, please, do!"
+
+"All right!" he promised carelessly.
+
+She clapped her hands and looked up at me.
+
+"Will you come too, Philip?" she asked.
+
+"I should like to very much indeed," I answered unhesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, that's delightful!" she exclaimed gleefully. "We will have such a
+nice ride! You shall see Queenie canter; she does go so fast! Good-bye
+now!"
+
+She tripped away by the side of her maid, turning round more than once to
+wave her hand to us. Then we hurried along to our rooms, which were at
+the end of the wide, marble-pillared corridor and opened one into the
+other. Our portmanteaux had been placed in readiness, so dressing was not
+a tedious business. I had finished first and lounged in an easy chair,
+watching Cecil struggle with a refractory white tie.
+
+"How pretty your sister is, Cis!" I remarked.
+
+"Think so? She's rather an odd little thing," declared her brother,
+absently surveying himself at last with satisfaction in the long
+pier-glass. "Didn't know you'd ever seen her before. I say"--with sudden
+emphasis--"isn't Aggie Hamilton a jolly good-looking girl?"
+
+"I've scarcely seen her yet," I reminded him. "Rather a chatterbox, isn't
+she?"
+
+"Chatterbox? Not she!" Cecil protested indignantly. "Why----"
+
+The rumble of a gong reached us from below. Cecil stopped short in his
+speech and hurried me out of the room.
+
+"Come along, sharp!" he exclaimed. "That means dinner in ten minutes, and
+I promised to get down into the drawing-room first and introduce you to
+Aggie. Come on!"
+
+We descended into the hall and a tall footman threw open the door of the
+long suite of drawing and ante-rooms in which the guests at the Castle
+were rapidly assembling. To me, who had seen nothing of the sort before,
+it was a brilliant sight. Four rooms, all of stately dimensions and all
+draped with amber satin of the same shade, were thrown into one by the
+upraising of heavy, clinging curtains, and each one seemed filled with
+groups of charmingly-dressed women and little knots of men. A low,
+incessant buzz of conversation floated about in the air, which was laden
+with the scent of exotics and dainty perfumes. The light was brilliant,
+but soft, for the marble figures around the walls held out silver lamps
+covered with gauzy rose-coloured shades.
+
+We passed through two of the rooms before we found the young lady of whom
+Cecil was in search. Then we came upon her suddenly, sitting quite alone
+and idly turning over the pages of a book of engravings. Cecil jogged me
+excitedly with his elbow in a manner which elsewhere would have brought
+down anathemas and possibly retribution upon his head. As it was,
+however, I had to bear the pain like a Spartan.
+
+"I say, isn't she stunning?" he whispered.
+
+I answered in the affirmative, carefully removing myself from the range
+of his elbow. Then we approached her, and she closed the book of
+engravings with a comical air of relief and made room for us beside her.
+
+She was even prettier than I had expected, with dark hair and eyes,
+dazzling complexion, a perfect figure of the _petite_ order, and
+faultless teeth, which she was by no means averse from showing. She wore
+a black lace gown, with a good deal of scarlet about it and a deep red
+rose in her bosom. Altogether, I was scarcely surprised at Cecil's
+captivation.
+
+If not actually a chatterbox, she was certainly possessed of the art of
+talking nonsense very volubly, and making others talk it. Before dinner
+was announced by a dignified-looking functionary we had got through quite
+an amazing amount of conversation. It fell to Cecil's lot to take in his
+inamorata, whilst I was far away behind with the middle-aged wife of a
+country clergyman. She was very pleasant, though, and I was quite content
+to do but little talking throughout the long banquet, for it was all new
+to me and interesting.
+
+The vast dining-hall--it was really the picture-gallery--the many
+servants in rich liveries, the emblazoned plate, the glittering glasses,
+and the brilliant snatches of conversation which floated around me, all
+were a revelation. Very soon the effect of it passed away and I was able
+to choose my wines and select my dishes, and was free to take part if I
+chose in the talk. But for that first evening I was content to remain
+silent and, as far as possible, unnoticed.
+
+Dinner, which had seemed to me to be growing interminable, came to an end
+at last. Lady Silchester, at the head of a long file of stately women,
+swept down the polished floor, and the procession departed with much
+rustling of robes. Some of the vacant chairs were taken possession of by
+men, and already delicate blue clouds of smoke were curling upwards to
+the vaulted ceiling. It was the short period dearer to the heart of man
+than any during the day. Every one stretched out his stiff limbs, filled
+his glass and assumed his favourite attitude. Voices were raised and a
+sudden change of tone crept in upon the conversation. Only Mr. Ravenor
+and a few of the older guests appeared to be still engrossed in the
+discussion of some abstruse scientific controversy then raging in the
+reviews. Everyone else seemed to be talking lightly of the day's sport,
+the arrangements for the morrow, and his own and other men's horses.
+
+It was getting a little slow for me. Cecil had found some friends, and
+the sound of his hearty boyish laugh came to me often from the other end
+of the table. My immediate neighbours were a bishop, who was deep in
+discussion with a minor canon concerning the doings of some recent
+diocesan conference, at which things seemed to have been more lively than
+harmonious; and on my other side Lord Penraven was quarrelling with the
+lord lieutenant of the county about the pedigree of a racehorse. Both
+disputes were utterly without interest to me, and it was no small relief
+when, as I caught Mr. Ravenor's eye, he beckoned me to a vacant chair by
+his side.
+
+The conversation, which had been for a moment interrupted, was soon
+renewed. I sat silent, listening with ever-increasing admiration to the
+play of words, the subtle arguments, and the epigrammatic brilliancy of
+expression which flashed from one to another of the four disputants. Had
+I known anything of the social or literary life of London I might have
+been less astonished, for Mr. Ravenor and two of his antagonists, Mr.
+Justice Haselton and Professor Clumbers, were reckoned among the finest
+talkers of their day.
+
+At last Mr. Ravenor, very much to my regret, brought the conversation to
+an abrupt close by proposing an exodus to the drawing-rooms. A few of the
+younger men looked eager to depart, but the majority rose and stretched
+themselves with the sad faces of martyrs before forming themselves into
+little groups and quitting the room. Mr. Ravenor remained until the last
+and motioned me to stay with him.
+
+"Well, Philip," he said, when everyone had gone, "how are you getting on
+at Dr. Randall's? Do you like being there?"
+
+"Very much for some things," I answered.
+
+He looked at me closely.
+
+"There is something you have to tell me," he said. "What is it?"
+
+I glanced around at the little army of servants moving noiselessly about
+on all sides.
+
+"There is something," I acknowledged, "but I would rather tell it you
+when we are quite alone. Besides, it is rather a long story. It has
+mostly to do with Mr. Marx."
+
+The calm, stately serenity of Mr. Ravenor's face underwent a sudden
+change. His dark brows almost met into his eyes, which I could not read.
+The change strengthened the impression which had lately been growing upon
+me. There was some deep mystery connected with the personality of Mr.
+Marx in which Mr. Ravenor was somehow concerned.
+
+"What about Mr. Marx? What can you have to say to me about him?" he asked
+coldly.
+
+"More than I should care to say here," I answered, glancing around. "It
+is rather a long----"
+
+"Come into the library to me the last thing tonight," he said quickly. "I
+must know what this story is that you have got hold of. We will go into
+the drawing-room now."
+
+In a few moments the cloud had vanished from his face and he was again
+the polished host. And I, under protest, was inveigled into a corner by
+Miss Agnes Hamilton, and given my first lesson in the fashionable art of
+flirting.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+                          MR. MARX IS WANTED.
+
+
+It was long past midnight before the last little knots of guests had
+wished one another good night, and even then Lord Penraven and a few
+chosen companions only adjourned to a smaller smoking-room in the back
+regions of the Castle. I knew that Mr. Ravenor was not with them,
+however, for I had seen him, after having outstayed all save this handful
+of his guests, cross the hall and enter the library. In about half an
+hour I followed him.
+
+I had expected to find him resting after the great strain which the
+multitude and importance of his guests must have imposed upon him during
+the day. But I found him very differently employed. He was bending low
+over his writing-table, with a cup of tea by his side, and already
+several sheets of closely-written foolscap were scattered about the
+table. At the sound of my entrance he looked up at once and laid down his
+pen.
+
+"Sit there," he said, pointing to an easy-chair opposite to him. "I want
+to see your face while you are talking. Now, what is this tale which you
+have to tell me?"
+
+His manner was far from encouraging and his face wore a severe
+expression. Altogether I felt a little nervous. But it had to be done, so
+I began.
+
+First I told him all about Leonard de Cartienne, his bad influence over
+Cecil, and his correspondence with Mr. Marx. He listened without remark.
+Then I paused to take breath.
+
+"I don't know what you'll say about the rest of my story," I went on. "I
+scarcely know what to think of it myself. But here it is. There is an inn
+in Little Drayton kept by a man named Hart, and Cecil and de Cartienne go
+there--sometimes. About a month before I went to Borden Tower the man
+Hart disappeared. He left home on a journey, the nature of which he kept
+secret even from his daughter, and has never returned or been heard of.
+All the information which his daughter can give is that he has left home
+before on a similar errand and invariably returned with money after three
+or four days."
+
+I paused and glanced at Mr. Ravenor. He was looking a little puzzled, but
+not particularly interested.
+
+"About a month before I left here for Borden Tower," I went on, "I met
+Mr. Marx in Torchester and drove home with him late at night. On the moor
+we were furiously attacked by a man who seemed to be mad and Mr. Marx was
+slightly injured. Two days afterwards Mr. Marx was assaulted by the same
+man in the park, and if I had not turned up he would probably have been
+killed. The man was a lunatic in every respect, save one. He recognized
+Mr. Marx as his enemy and made deliberate attempts upon his life."
+
+Mr. Ravenor softly pulled down the green lampshade on the side nearest to
+him, and in the subdued light I could scarcely see his face, but I felt
+that his interest in my story was growing.
+
+"Well, of course, when Cecil began talking about this man Hart's
+disappearance," I continued, "and I heard a good deal about it at Little
+Drayton, I began to think about this lunatic whom no one knew anything
+about. I put down the exact dates, and I found that Hart must have left
+Little Drayton about a week before the first attack on Mr. Marx by the
+unknown madman. Of course, this by itself was scarcely worth thinking
+about, but the strangest part of it is to come. More out of curiosity
+than anything, I asked to see a photograph of Mr. Hart. His daughter took
+us into the sitting-room to look at one and to her amazement found it
+gone. All search was unavailing. Someone had taken it away. Well, I found
+out where it had been taken and went to order a copy. It was no use. The
+negative had been sold to the same person who alone could have entered
+Miss Hart's sitting-room and abstracted the photograph. That person was
+Leonard de Cartienne, and he has been in communication with Mr. Marx, the
+man whom the lunatic tried to murder. Can you make anything of that,
+sir?"
+
+Apparently Mr. Ravenor had made something of it. He was leaning a little
+forward in his chair and at the sight of his face a great fear came upon
+me.
+
+A ghastly change had crept into it. His eyes were burning with a dry,
+fierce fire, and the pallor extended even to his lips.
+
+He sat forward, with his long, wasted fingers, stretched out convulsively
+before his face, like a man who sees a hideous vision pass before his
+sight and yet remains spellbound, powerless to speak, or move, or break
+away from the loathsome spectacle.
+
+Sickly beads of perspiration stood out upon his clammy forehead and his
+dry lips were moving, although no sound came from them.
+
+I gazed at him in a speechless horror, and as I looked the room and all
+its contents seemed to swim around me. What could Mr. Ravenor have found
+so awful in the story which I had told and how could it concern him?
+
+Suddenly he rose from his seat and stood over me. I was more than ever
+alarmed at his strange expression.
+
+"There is a third connection," he said hoarsely. "Do you remember that a
+man called to see me, whom I declined to admit, on the night of your
+first visit here? When I changed my mind he had disappeared."
+
+I gave a little cry and felt my blood run cold.
+
+"Mr. Marx had something to do with that," I faltered out. "I met him
+under the trees in the avenue and he was horribly frightened to see me. I
+had heard a cry. I was listening."
+
+Mr. Ravenor stretched out his hand to the bell and rang it violently. We
+sat in silence, dreading almost to look at one another until it was
+answered.
+
+"Go to Mr. Marx's room and bid him come here at once," Mr. Ravenor
+commanded.
+
+The man bowed and withdrew. When he reappeared he carried in his hand a
+letter.
+
+"Mr. Marx left this on his desk for you, sir," he said.
+
+"Left it! Where is he? Is he not in the Castle?" questioned Mr. Ravenor
+sharply.
+
+"No, sir. He had a dog cart about half-past four to catch the London
+express at Mellborough."
+
+Mr. Ravenor tore open the note and then threw it across to me. There were
+only a few words:
+
+"Dear Mr. Ravenor,--Kindly excuse me for a day or two. Important business
+of a private nature calls me hurriedly to London. If you are writing me,
+my address will be at the _Hotel Metropole_. M."
+
+There was a silence between us. Then I looked into Mr. Ravenor's
+colourless face.
+
+"We must find that lunatic," I whispered.
+
+Mr. Ravenor turned from me with a shudder.
+
+"We must do nothing of the sort."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+                          I ACCEPT A MISSION.
+
+
+There was a silence which threatened to last for ever.
+
+At length Mr. Ravenor turned his head slightly and looked towards me. The
+eagerness which he saw in my face seemed to strike some grim vein of
+humour in him, for his lips parted a dreary, fleeting smile.
+
+"Are you expecting to hear a confession?" he asked, as it passed away.
+
+A confession from him! God forbid! From him who had ever seemed to me so
+far above other men, that none other were worthy to be classed with him!
+All the old fire of my boyish hero-worship blazed up at the very thought.
+A confession from him! The bare idea was sacrilegious.
+
+He read his answer in the mute, amazed protest of my looks, and did not
+wait for the words which were trembling upon my lips.
+
+"It would do you little good to tell you all that your story has
+suggested to me," he said quietly. "Some day you will know everything;
+but not yet--not yet."
+
+He paused and walked slowly up and down the room, with his hands behind
+him and his eyes fixed upon the floor. Suddenly he stopped and looked up.
+
+"Marx must come back at once," he said, with something of his old
+firmness. "I shall send him a telegram to-morrow to return immediately."
+
+"And if he doesn't come?"
+
+"I must go to him. This matter must be cleared up as far as it can be and
+at once."
+
+"Your guests," I reminded him. "How can you leave them?"
+
+"I forgot them," he exclaimed impatiently. "Philip, will you go?" he
+asked suddenly.
+
+"Yes," I answered quietly, although my heart was beating fast. "Yes, I
+will go. Perhaps it would be best."
+
+He let his hand rest for a moment upon my shoulder, and, though he did
+not say so, I knew that he was pleased. Then he glanced at the clock.
+
+"Two o'clock!" he exclaimed. "Philip, you must leave me now."
+
+I looked towards his writing-table, at which he was already seating
+himself, and hesitated.
+
+"You are not going to write now?" I ventured to protest.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+I pointed to the clock; but he only smiled.
+
+"I am no slave to regular hours," he said quietly. "An hour or two's
+sleep is enough for me at a time."
+
+So I left him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+                                MY RIDE.
+
+
+It was a few minutes past nine when I descended into the long, oaken
+gallery where breakfast was served, and at the head of the principal
+table sat Mr. Ravenor in hunting costume. Everyone who was down was
+evidently bound for the meet. The men were nearly all in scarlet coats,
+and the women in riding-habits and trim little hats, with their veils
+pushed back. There was a great clatter of knives and forks, and a good
+deal of carving going on at the long, polished sideboard, and above it
+all, a loud hum of cheerful talk; altogether it was a very pleasant meal
+that was in progress.
+
+I was making my way towards a gap in the table at the lower end when I
+heard my name called, and looked down into Miss Hamilton's piquant,
+upturned face.
+
+"Come and sit by me," she exclaimed, moving her skirts to make room.
+"See. I've hidden a chair here--for somebody."
+
+I took it with a laugh.
+
+"Well, as somebody is so very lazy this morning," I said, "he doesn't
+deserve to have it; so I will. Can I get you anything?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No, thanks. Look after yourself, do, for we shall have to start
+presently. And now tell me, how did you know for whom I was saving that
+chair?"
+
+"Well, I supposed it was for Cis," I remarked, making a vigorous attack
+upon an adjacent ham.
+
+"Indeed! And supposing I were to say that it wasn't--that it was for
+someone else?"
+
+"Poor Cis!" I said, with a sigh. "Don't tell me who the someone else was,
+Miss Hamilton, please."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall hate him."
+
+"For Lord Silchester's sake?"
+
+"No; for my own."
+
+"Mr. Morton, you're talking nonsense."
+
+"Well, didn't you undertake to teach me how last evening?"
+
+"Teach you! Oh!"--a little ironically--"you're a very apt pupil, Mr.
+Morton."
+
+I looked at her in mute remonstrance.
+
+"With such a tutor, Miss Hamilton----"
+
+She stopped me, laughing.
+
+"Oh, you're a dreadful boy! Let me give you some tea to keep you quiet."
+
+I drew a long sigh and attacked my breakfast vigorously. Presently she
+began again.
+
+"Do you know Nanpantan, Mr. Morton, where the meet is this morning?"
+
+"Very well," I answered, cutting myself some more ham. "Do you mind
+giving me another cup of tea, Miss Hamilton? It was so good!"
+
+She nodded and drew off her thick dogskin glove again.
+
+"You thirsty mortal!" she remarked. "I'm afraid you must have been
+smoking too much last night."
+
+"One cigarette," I assured her. "No more, upon my honour."
+
+"Really! Then you won't get any more tea from me to unsteady your nerves.
+Now tell me, Mr. Morton, do you know this country?"
+
+"Every inch of it. No one better."
+
+"Oh, how nice! And you'll give me a lead to-day, won't you? I do so want
+to do well."
+
+"I should be delighted," I answered; "but, unfortunately, I'm not going
+to hunt."
+
+"Not going to hunt! Then what are you going to do, pray?"
+
+"Going for a ride with a young lady," I answered.
+
+"Oh, indeed!"--with a toss of the head.
+
+There was a short silence. Then curiosity conquered the fit of
+indignation which Miss Hamilton had thought well to assume.
+
+"May I ask the name of the fortunate young lady?"
+
+"You may," I answered calmly, helping myself to toast. "It is little Lady
+Beatrice."
+
+She burst into a peal of laughter, but stopped suddenly.
+
+"What nonsense! Are you going to take the groom's place, then, and hold
+the leading-rein?"
+
+"If she rides with one, very likely," I answered.
+
+There was a short silence. Then Miss Hamilton returned to the charge.
+
+"How old is your inamorata?" she inquired. "Seven or eight?"
+
+"Twelve next birthday," I answered promptly.
+
+"It's quite too ridiculous!" she declared, tossing her head. "I really
+wanted you to come with me this morning, because you know the country,"
+she added, with a sidelong glance from her dark eyes.
+
+"Nothing would have given me greater pleasure," I declared; "but a
+promise is a promise, you know, and we made this one before we knew any
+thing about the meet."
+
+"We! Who are we?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Cis and I."
+
+"Cecil won't go if I ask him to come with me," she said confidently.
+
+I shrugged my shoulders.
+
+"Perhaps not. The more reason why I should."
+
+She turned away from me half amused, half vexed. Just then Cecil
+appeared, and she beckoned him eagerly to her side.
+
+"Cecil, Mr. Morton tells me that you have promised to ride with Beatrice
+this morning," she said.
+
+"So we did," he exclaimed. "Awfully sorry to disappoint her, but, of
+course, I didn't know anything about the meet."
+
+"Oh, I am glad that you are not going to desert me, then," she said,
+laughing. "Mr. Morton declares that he is going to keep his engagement."
+
+"Very good of him, if he is," remarked Cecil, stirring his tea with great
+cheerfulness.
+
+"Don't pity me," I said, rising. "I'm sure I shall enjoy it. _Au revoir_,
+Miss Hamilton."
+
+And I did enjoy it. Many a time afterwards I thought of that slim little
+figure in the long riding-habit, her golden hair streaming in the breeze,
+and her dainty, flushed face aglow with excitement and delight, and of
+the pleasant prattle which her little ladyship poured into my willing
+ears. I remembered, too, her quaint, naive ways, and the grave way in
+which she thanked me for taking care of her--little mannerisms which soon
+yielded to familiarity and vanished altogether. And, strange though it
+may seem, I found always more satisfaction in recalling these things than
+the winged look and merry speeches of Miss Agnes Hamilton.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+                              MY MISSION.
+
+
+For the first time in my life I was in London--and alone. There had been
+no reply from Mr. Marx to the telegrams commanding his instant return,
+and so on the third morning after my arrival at Ravenor Castle I quitted
+it again to go in search of him. Accustomed though he was to conceal his
+feelings, and admirably though he succeeded in doing so in the presence
+of his guests, I could see that Mr. Ravenor was deeply anxious to have
+the suspicions which my story had awakened either dispelled or confirmed.
+Nor, indeed, although their purport was scarcely so clear to me, was I
+less so.
+
+I suppose that no one, especially if he had never before been in a great
+city, could pass across London for the first time without some emotion of
+wonder. To me it was like entering an unknown world. The vast throng of
+people, the ceaseless din of traffic, and the huge buildings, all filled
+me with amazement which, as we drove through the Strand to Northumberland
+Avenue, grew into bewilderment. Only the recollection of my mission and
+its grave import recalled me to myself as the cab drew up before the
+Hotel Metropole.
+
+My bag was taken possession of at once by one of the hall-porters and I
+engaged a room. Then I made inquiries about Mr. Marx.
+
+The clerk turned over two or three pages of the ledger and shook his
+head. There was no one of that name stopping in the hotel, he informed
+me.
+
+"Can you tell me whether anyone of that name has been staying here during
+the last week?" I asked.
+
+He made a further search and shook his head.
+
+"We have not had the name of Marx upon our books at all, sir, during my
+recollection," he declared. "Quite an uncommon name, too; I should
+certainly have remembered it."
+
+"There have been letters addressed to him here by that name," I said;
+"can you tell me what has become of them?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"That would not be in my department, sir; you will ascertain by inquiring
+at the head-porter's bureau round the corner."
+
+I thanked him and made my way thither across the reception hall. The
+answer to my question was given at once.
+
+"There are letters for a Mr. Marx nearly every morning, sir, and
+telegrams," said the official; "but I don't think that Mr. Marx himself
+is stopping at the hotel; another gentleman always applies for them and
+sends them on."
+
+"And is the other gentleman staying here?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, sir; No. 110."
+
+"Has he any authority to receive them from Mr. Marx?" I inquired.
+
+"I believe so. He showed us a note from Mr. Marx, asking him to receive
+and forward them, and he has to sign, too, for every one he receives. It
+is a rule with us that anyone receiving letters not addressed to himself
+should do so, whether he has authority or not."
+
+"Can you tell me his name?" I asked. "I am sorry to give you so much
+trouble, but I particularly wish to ascertain Mr. Marx's whereabouts, and
+this gentleman knows it."
+
+"Certainly, sir. John, what is No. 110's name?" he asked an assistant.
+
+"Count de Cartienne," was the prompt reply.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLI.
+                        THE COUNT DE CARTIENNE.
+
+
+My surprise at this last piece of information could not pass unnoticed.
+Both the hall-porter and his assistant were evidently well-trained
+servants, but they looked curiously at me and then exchanged rapid
+glances with one another. I recovered myself, however, in an instant.
+
+"This Count de Cartienne," I asked, "is he young? I think I know him.
+Rather dark and thin and short? Is that he?"
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+"No, sir. Count de Cartienne is a tall, aristocratic-looking gentleman,
+middle-aged. You are certain to see him about the hotel. He is in and out
+a great deal."
+
+I thanked him and moved away, for the people were beginning to flock in,
+inquiring for their keys. As it was nearly dinner-time, I followed their
+example and went to my room to change my travelling clothes for more
+conventional attire.
+
+The lift was almost full when I entered it; but as we were on the point
+of starting, a lady, followed by an elderly gentleman, stepped in. I rose
+at once, being nearest the gate, to offer my seat, but the words which I
+had intended to speak died away upon my lips.
+
+Something in the graceful figure, the soft, sweet eyes, and the
+delicately-cut features, seemed to remind me of my mother. It was a faint
+resemblance, perhaps--scarcely more than a suggestion--but it was still
+enough to make my heart beat fast, and to arrest for a moment my
+recollection of where I was. Then suddenly I remembered that I was
+behaving, to say the least of it, strangely, and I turned abruptly away.
+
+At the third floor I stepped out and walked across the corridor to my
+room without glancing once behind. But it was some time before I unpacked
+my portmanteau, or even thought of dressing. Then I remembered that if
+they were dining at the hotel I should see them again, and, turning out
+my clothes at once, I dressed with feverish haste. For the moment I had
+forgotten all about Count de Cartienne, forgotten even the very purpose
+of my visit to London. Only one face, linked with a memory, dwelt in my
+mind and usurped all my thoughts. I felt a strange excitability stealing
+through my frame, and the fingers which sought to fasten my tie shook so
+that they failed in their duty. I seemed to have stepped into another
+state of being.
+
+When I descended into the dining-room it was already almost full, and
+there were very few empty tables. For a minute or two I stood behind the
+entrance screen, looking around. Nowhere could I see any sign of the lady
+whose face had so interested me. Either she was dining away from the
+hotel or had not yet put in an appearance. Hoping devoutly that the
+latter was the case, I took possession of a small table laid for three
+facing the door and ordered my dinner.
+
+I had scarcely finished my soup before an instinctive consciousness that
+I was being watched made me look quickly up. Standing just inside the
+room, calmly surveying the assembled guests, and myself in particular,
+was a tall, distinguished-looking man, perfectly clean-shaven, rather
+fair than otherwise, with a single eye-glass stuck in his eye, through
+which he was coolly examining me. He carried an Inverness cape and an
+opera-hat, and his evening clothes, which fitted him perfectly, were in
+the best possible taste, even down to the plain gold stud in his shirt
+front. His age might have been anything from thirty to fifty, for his
+carriage was perfectly upright, and his hair only slightly streaked with
+grey. Altogether his appearance was that of a well-turned-out, well-bred
+man, and as I glanced away I felt a little mild curiosity to know who he
+was.
+
+He came a few steps farther into the room, and after a moment's
+hesitation passed by a larger table laid for six and took the vacant seat
+at mine. He wished me good-evening in a clear, pleasant voice, with a
+slight foreign accent, resigned his coat and hat to a more than
+ordinarily attentive waiter, and drawing a card from his pocket began
+deliberately to write out his dishes from the menu. Then he shut up his
+pencil, and leaning back in his chair once more glanced round at the
+roomful of people. Having apparently satisfied his curiosity, he yawned,
+and turning towards me, began to talk.
+
+Soon I began to feel myself quite at home with him, and to enjoy my
+dinner with a greatly-added zest. Indeed, in listening to some of his
+quaint recitals of adventures at foreign hotels, I almost forgot to watch
+for the advent of the lady and gentleman for whom I had been looking out
+so eagerly only a few minutes before.
+
+As it happened, however, I saw them enter, and my attention immediately
+wandered from the story which my companion was telling.
+
+Something in the fragility of her appearance, and the weight with which
+she leaned upon her husband's arm, seemed to mark her as an invalid, and
+this expression was in a measure heightened by her black lace dress,
+which, combined with the too perfect complexion and slight figure, gave
+to her face an almost ethereal expression. As I looked into the deep blue
+eyes I seemed again to be able to trace that vague likeness to my mother,
+and I felt my heart beat fast as the impression grew upon me. It was only
+when my new friend stopped abruptly in his anecdote and looked at me
+questioningly, that I could withdraw my eyes from her.
+
+"Are they friends of yours who have just come in?" he asked, without
+turning round.
+
+"No; I never saw them before this afternoon in my life. I wonder if you
+could tell me who they are?"
+
+He moved his chair a little, so as to be able to do so without rudeness,
+and looked round. I happened to be watching him, and I saw at once that
+he recognised them.
+
+Strange to say, the recognition seemed to afford him anything but
+pleasure; a change passed over his face like a flash of lightning, and
+although I only just caught it, it made me feel for the moment decidedly
+uncomfortable. While it lasted the face had not been a pleasant one to
+look upon. But it was not that alone which troubled me. During the moment
+that his expression had been transformed, it had given me an odd,
+disagreeable sense of familiarity.
+
+He was himself again almost immediately--so soon that I could scarcely
+credit the change--and more than once afterwards I felt inclined to put
+that evil look and lowering brow down to a trick of my imagination. Even
+when I had decided to do so, however, I caught myself wondering more than
+once of whom they had reminded me.
+
+He moved his chair again and went on with his dinner in silence.
+
+"You recognised them?" I ventured to remark,
+
+"Yes," he answered curtly.
+
+"Would you mind telling me who they are, then?" I persisted. "I feel
+interested in them."
+
+He looked up curiously and kept his eyes fixed on me while he answered my
+question.
+
+"The man is Lord Langerdale, an Irish peer, and the lady with him is his
+wife."
+
+"Thank you. The lady's face reminded me of someone I knew once."
+
+He removed his eyes and his tone grew lighter.
+
+"Indeed! Rather an uncommon type of face, too. She's a lovely woman
+still, though she looks delicate."
+
+I assented silently. Somehow I did not care to discuss her with this
+stranger.
+
+"Perhaps you noticed," he went on, after a short pause, "that it was
+rather a shock to me to see them here?"
+
+"Yes, I did notice that," I admitted.
+
+He sighed and looked grave for a moment. Then he poured himself out a
+glass of champagne and drank it deliberately off.
+
+"It was purely a matter of association," he said, in a low tone. "A
+somewhat painful incident in my life was connected with that family,
+although with no present member of it. Pass the bottle, and let us change
+the subject."
+
+We talked of other things, and for a time all my former interest in his
+piquant anecdotes and trenchant remarks was renewed. But while he was
+gravely considering with a waiter the relative merits of two brands of
+claret, I found my eyes wandering to the table at our right, in search of
+the woman whose face had so attracted me. This time my eyes met hers.
+
+Then a strange thing happened. Instead of looking away at once, she kept
+her eyes steadily fixed upon me and suddenly gave a distinct start. I saw
+the colour rush into her face and leave it again almost as swiftly; her
+thin lips were slightly parted, and her whole expression was one of great
+agitation. I tried to look away, but I could not; I felt somehow forced
+to return her steady gaze. But when she turned to her husband and touched
+him on the arm, evidently to direct his attention to me, the spell was
+broken, and I moved my chair slightly, making some casual remark to my
+companion which was sufficient to set the ball of conversation rolling
+again. But one stolen glance a few moments later showed me that both
+husband and wife were regarding me attentively, and several times
+afterwards, when I looked over towards their table, I met Lady
+Langerdale's eyes, full of a sad, wistful, and withal puzzled expression
+which I could not read.
+
+As dinner drew towards a close it occurred to me that my _vis-a-vis_ had
+studiously avoided turning once towards our neighbours. If he desired to
+escape recognition, however, he was unsuccessful, for just as we were
+beginning to think of quitting our places, Lord Langerdale left his seat
+to speak to some acquaintances at the other end of the room, and on his
+way back he looked straight into my companion's face. He started
+slightly, hesitated, and then came slowly up to our table.
+
+"Eugene!" he exclaimed. "By all that's wonderful, is it really you? Why,
+we heard that you had become an Oriental, and forsworn the ways and
+haunts of civilisation."
+
+He spoke lightly, but it was easy to see that the meeting was a very
+embarrassing one for both of them.
+
+"I have not been in England long," was the quiet reply. "Lady Langerdale,
+I am glad to see, is well."
+
+"She is fairly well. How strange that we should meet here! Why, it must
+be twenty years since I have seen you."
+
+"I have spent but little time in England."
+
+"I suppose not," Lord Langerdale answered slowly. "We have heard of you
+occasionally. Will you come and speak to my wife?"
+
+"I think not," was the calm reply. "It could only be very painful for
+both of us. If Lady Langerdale desires it--not unless--I will call upon
+you at your rooms. But, frankly, I would rather not."
+
+Lord Langerdale appeared by no means offended, rather a little relieved,
+and answered sadly:
+
+"It is for you to choose. If you can tell her that the past has lost some
+of its bitterness for you, and--and----"
+
+He hesitated and seemed at a loss how to express himself. My _vis-a-vis_
+smiled--a smile of peculiar bitterness it was--and interrupted cynically:
+
+"And that I am a reformed character, I suppose you would say, and have
+become a respectable member of society! No, no, Lord Langerdale, I am no
+hypocrite, and I shall never tell her that. A wanderer upon the face of
+the earth I have been during the best years of my life, and a wanderer I
+shall always be--adventurer, some people have said. Well, well, let it be
+so; what matter?"
+
+Lord Langerdale shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"I am sorry to hear you talk so, Eugene; but of one thing you may always
+be sure--Elsie and I will never be your judges. If you feel that it will
+reopen old wounds, stop away; but if not, why, come and see us. You have
+a young friend with you," he added, turning slightly towards me and
+speaking a little more earnestly than the occasion seemed to require.
+
+The man whom he called Eugene shook his head.
+
+"I am not so fortunate," he said stiffly. "I can claim no more than what
+on the Continent we call a 'table acquaintance' with this young
+gentleman."
+
+It might have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that Lord Langerdale
+looked distinctly disappointed. He bowed courteously to me, however,
+shook hands with his friend and rejoined his wife. My new acquaintance
+resumed his former position, and, with it, his old nonchalant manner.
+
+"Your pardon," he said lightly, "for this long digression. And now tell
+me, _mon ami_, shall we spend the evening together? You are a stranger in
+London, you say; I am not," he added drily. "Come, shall I be your
+cicerone?"
+
+I really had nothing else to do, so I assented at once.
+
+"Good! Let us finish the bottle to a pleasant evening. But, ah! I forgot.
+We must be introduced. The English custom demands it, even though we
+introduce ourselves. Your name is?"
+
+"Morton," I answered--"Philip Morton. I haven't a card."
+
+"Good! Then, Mr. Philip Morton, permit me the honour of introducing to
+you--myself. I am called de Cartienne--the Count Eugene de Cartienne--but
+I do not use the title in this country."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLII.
+                           NEWS OF MR. MARX.
+
+
+For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for the simple reason that I
+was far too astonished to make any remark. My new acquaintance sat
+looking at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly toying with
+his eyeglass; yet, notwithstanding his apparent nonchalance, I felt
+somehow aware that he was watching me keenly.
+
+"My name appears to be a surprise to you," he remarked, keeping his eyes
+fixed steadily upon my face. "Have you heard it before, may I ask?"
+
+"Yes," I assented, "one of the fellows down at Borden Tower----"
+
+"What, you know Leonard?" he interrupted. "Egad! how strange! Then you
+are one of Dr. Randall's pupils, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; I have only been there a very short time, though. And Leonard
+is----"
+
+"My son."
+
+I looked at him intently. Now that the fact itself had been suggested to
+me, I could certainly trace come faint likeness. But what puzzled me most
+was that he seemed also to remind me, although more vaguely, of someone
+else, whom I could not call to mind at all. Neither did he seem
+particularly anxious for me to assist him, for, as though somewhat
+annoyed at my close scrutiny, he rose abruptly to his feet.
+
+"Come, what do you say to cigarettes and coffee? We are outstaying
+everybody here."
+
+I followed him downstairs into the smoke-room. We seated ourselves upon a
+luxurious divan, and the Count immediately began to talk about his son.
+
+"And so you know Leonard? How strange! Do you see much of one another?"
+
+"Naturally, considering that there are only three of us at Dr.
+Randall's," I reminded him.
+
+"Ah, just so! And your other fellow pupil is young Lord Silchester, is he
+not? Rather an awkward number, three. Do you all chum together pretty
+well?"
+
+What was I to say? I could not tell him that my relations with his son
+were decidedly inimical; so, after a moment's hesitation, I answered a
+little evasively:
+
+"I'm afraid we're not a very sociable trio. You see, Cis and I are very
+keen on out-of-door amusements, and your son rather prefers reading."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Yes; I quite understand. You and Lord Silchester are thoroughly English,
+and essentially so in your tastes and love of sport. Leonard, now, is
+more than half a foreigner. His mother was an Austrian lady, and I myself
+am of French extraction. By the by, Mr. Morton, may I ask you a
+question--in confidence?" he added slowly.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"It is about Leonard. I don't think that you need have any scruples about
+telling me, for I am his father, you know, and have a certain right to
+know everything about him."
+
+He looked at me gravely, as though for confirmation of his words, and I
+silently expressed my assent. Leonard de Cartienne was nothing to me; and
+if his father was going to ask me the question which I hoped he was, he
+should have a straightforward answer.
+
+"I sent my son to Dr. Randall's," he began, sinking his voice to a
+confidential whisper, "not because he was backward in his studies--for
+such is not, I believe, the case--but because he has unfortunately
+inherited a very deplorable taste. I found it out only by accident, and
+it was a very great shock to me. Leonard is fond--too fond--of playing
+cards for money. I thought that at Borden Tower he would have no
+opportunity for indulging this lamentable weakness; but from what I have
+recently heard about Dr. Randall, it has occurred to me that he is
+perhaps a little too much of the student and too little of the
+schoolmaster. You understand me? I mean that he is perhaps so closely
+wrapped up in his private work, that after the hours which he gives to
+his pupils for instruction they may secure almost as much liberty as
+though they were at college."
+
+"That's just it," I answered: "and, M. de Cartienne, now that you have
+spoken to me of it, I will tell you something. Your son does play a good
+deal with Lord Silchester. I know that this is so, for I have played
+myself occasionally."
+
+"And Lord Silchester wins, I presume?"
+
+Something in the Count's tone as he asked the question, and something in
+his face as I glanced up, did not please me. Both seemed to tell the same
+tale, both somehow seemed to imply that his question to me was altogether
+sarcastic, and that he knew the contrary to be the case.
+
+It was the first gleam of mistrust which I had felt towards my new
+acquaintance, and it did not last, for the expression of deep concern and
+annoyance with which he heard my answer seemed too natural to be assumed.
+
+"On the contrary, your son always wins," I told him drily.
+
+His finely-pencilled dark eyebrows almost met in a heavy frown, and he
+threw his cigarette away impatiently.
+
+"I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for answering my question," he
+said; "but I needn't tell you that I'm very sorry to hear what you say.
+Something must be done with Mr. Leonard at once."
+
+He lit another cigarette and threw himself back in a corner of the divan.
+Then I made up my mind to speak to him on the subject which was uppermost
+in my mind.
+
+"You know a Mr. Marx, I believe? I was inquiring for him at the hotel
+office this afternoon, and they told me that you were forwarding his
+letters. Could you give me his address?"
+
+M. de Cartienne removed his cigarette from his teeth, and looked dubious.
+
+"Yes, I know Marx; know him well," he admitted; "but your request puts me
+in rather an awkward position. You see, this is how the matter lies," he
+added, leaning forward confidentially. "Marx and I are old friends, and
+he's been of great service to me more than once, and never asked for any
+return. Well, I met him--I won't say when, but it wasn't long ago--in
+Pall Mall, and he hailed me as the very man he was most anxious to meet.
+We lunched together, and then he told me what he wanted. He was in London
+for a short while, he said, and wished to remain perfectly incognito.
+There would be letters for him, he said, at the Metropole. Would I fetch
+them, and forward them to him at an address which he would give me, on
+condition that I gave him my word of honour to keep it secret? I asked,
+naturally, what reason he had for going into hiding; for virtually that
+is what it seemed to me to be; but he would give me no definite answer.
+Would I do him this favour or not? he asked. And, remembering the many
+services which he had rendered me, I found it quite impossible to refuse.
+That is my position. I'm really extremely sorry not to be able to help
+you, but you see for yourself that I cannot."
+
+His tone was perfectly serious and his manner earnest. I had not the
+faintest shadow of doubt as to his sincerity.
+
+"You can't help me at all then?" I said, no doubt with some of the
+disappointment which I felt in my tone.
+
+He looked doubtful.
+
+"Well, I don't quite know about that," he said slowly, as though weighing
+something over in his mind. "Look here, Mr. Morton," he added, frankly
+enough, "what do you want with the man? Is it anything unpleasant?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered. "I do not wish any harm to Mr. Marx unless he
+deserves it. I want to ask him a few questions, that's all. Unless the
+man's a perfect scoundrel he will be able to answer them satisfactorily,
+and my having discovered his whereabouts will not harm him. If, on the
+other hand, he cannot answer those questions, why, then, you may take my
+word for it, M. de Cartienne, that he's an unmitigated blackguard,
+perfectly unworthy of your friendship, and undeserving of the slightest
+consideration from you."
+
+M. de Cartienne nodded and leaned forward, with his arm across the divan.
+
+"You put the matter very plainly," he said, "and what you say is fair
+enough. I'll tell you how far I am prepared to help you. I won't tell you
+Mr. Marx's address, because I have pledged my word not to divulge it;
+but, if you like, I'll take you where there will be a very fair chance of
+your seeing him."
+
+"He is in London, then?"
+
+The Count shrugged his shoulders and smiled slightly.
+
+"Permit me to keep my word in the letter, if not in the spirit," he
+answered. "I am going to spend my evening in this way; I am going, first
+of all, to a theatre for an hour or so; then I am going to call at a
+couple of clubs, and afterwards I am going to a club of a somewhat
+different sort. If you like to be my companion for the evening I shall be
+charmed; and if it should happen that we run up against any friend of
+yours--well, the world is not so very large, after all."
+
+"Thanks. I'll come with you with pleasure!" I answered without
+hesitation.
+
+He stood up underneath the soft glare of the electric light, and as I
+turned towards him something in his face puzzled me. It was gone directly
+my eyes met his--gone, but not before it had left a curious impression.
+It seemed almost as though a triumphant light had flashed for an instant
+in his bright, steel-coloured eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIII.
+                              ABOUT TOWN.
+
+
+We passed up the heavily-carpeted steps into the central hall of the
+hotel. The Count stopped for a moment to inquire for letters at the chief
+porter's bureau, and as we turned away we came face to face with Lord
+Langerdale.
+
+He hesitated when he saw us together, but only for a moment. Then he
+advanced with a genial smile upon his well-cut, handsome face.
+
+"You're the very man I wanted to see, de Cartienne," he said. "I suppose
+you know your young friend's name by this time? Will you introduce us?"
+
+The Count looked distinctly annoyed, but he complied at once.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," he said coldly, "this is Mr. Morton. Mr. Morton--Lord
+Langerdale."
+
+Lord Langerdale held out his hand frankly and drew me a little on one
+side, although not out of the Count's hearing.
+
+"Mr. Morton," he said pleasantly, "I am going to make a somewhat
+extraordinary request. My only excuse for it is a lady's will, and when
+you reach my age you will know that it is a thing by no means to be
+lightly regarded. My wife has been very much impressed by what she terms
+a marvellous likeness between you and--and a very near relative of hers
+whom she had lost sight of for a long while. She is most anxious to make
+your acquaintance. May I have the honour of presenting you to her?"
+
+For a moment my head swam. The likeness of Lady Langerdale to my mother,
+and then this strange fancy on her part! What if they should be something
+more than coincidences? The very thought was bewildering. But how could
+it be? No; the thing was impossible. Still, the request was couched in
+such terms that there could be but one answer.
+
+"I shall be extremely pleased!" I declared readily.
+
+"Then come into the drawing-room for a few minutes, will you?" Lord
+Langerdale said. "Good-night, Eugene! No use asking you to join us, I
+know."
+
+Count de Cartienne turned on his heel with brow as black as thunder.
+
+"Good-night, Lord Langerdale!" he said stiffly; "Good-night, Mr. Morton!"
+
+"But I am coming with you, you know!" I exclaimed, surprised at his
+manner. "Couldn't you wait for me five minutes?"
+
+"It is impossible!" he answered shortly; "we are late already! My
+carriage must have been waiting half an hour. I had no idea of the time."
+
+It was rather an embarrassing moment for me. The Count evidently expected
+me to keep my engagement with him, and would be offended if I did not do
+so. On the other hand, Lord Langerdale was waiting to take me to his
+wife, and, from the slight frown with which he was regarding de
+Cartienne, I judged that he did not approve of his interference.
+
+Inclination prompted me strongly to throw my engagement with the Count to
+the winds and to place myself under Lord Langerdale's guidance. But,
+after all, the sole purpose of my journey to London was to discover Mr.
+Marx, and if I neglected this opportunity I might lose sight of the only
+man who could help me in my search. Clearly, therefore, my duty was to
+fulfil my prior engagement.
+
+"If M. de Cartienne cannot wait," I said regretfully, "I am afraid, Lord
+Langerdale, that the pleasure you offer me must be deferred. Would Lady
+Langerdale allow me to call at your rooms to-morrow?"
+
+Evidently he was displeased, for his manner changed at once.
+
+"I will leave a note for you with the hall porter," he said.
+"Good-night."
+
+I turned away with the Count, who preserved a perfectly unmoved
+countenance. Before we had taken half a dozen steps, however, he was
+accosted by a gentleman entering the hotel, and, turning round, he begged
+me to excuse him for a moment.
+
+I strolled away by myself, waiting. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my
+arm, and, looking round, I found Lord Langerdale by my side.
+
+"I just want to ask you a question, Mr. Morton, if you'll allow me," he
+said kindly. "Remember that I'm an old man--old enough to be your
+father--and a man of the world, and you are a very young one. You won't
+mind a word of advice?"
+
+"Most certainly not!" I assured him heartily.
+
+"Well, then, Count de Cartienne is quite a new acquaintance of yours, is
+he not?"
+
+"I never saw him before this evening," I admitted.
+
+"And you--pardon me, but you look very young, and a great deal too fresh
+and healthy for a town man--you don't know much of London life, do you?"
+
+"Nothing at all," I answered. "This is my first visit to London, and I
+only arrived this afternoon."
+
+Lord Langerdale looked very serious.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Morton," he said earnestly, "I feel sure from your face
+that I can trust you, and that what I am going to say you will consider
+in confidence. I should be the last one to say anything against Eugene de
+Cartienne, for he received a terrible injury from one of my family, or,
+rather, my wife's family, and I fear that has exercised an evil influence
+over his life. But, all the same, I cannot see you, a youngster,
+perfectly inexperienced, starting out to spend your first night in town
+with him without feeling it my duty to tell you that I consider him one
+of the most unfortunate and most dangerous companions whom you could have
+chosen. There! I hope you're not offended?"
+
+"How could I be?" I answered gratefully. "But I am not going out with him
+from choice, or for the sake of amusement. We are together simply
+because, as far as I know, he is the only man who can solve a mystery
+which I have come up to London to try to clear up."
+
+Lord Langerdale started, and his manner became almost agitated.
+
+"This is most extraordinary!" he declared. "Mr. Morton, you must--ah,
+here comes de Cartienne!" he broke off in a tone of deep annoyance.
+"Breakfast with me to-morrow morning at ten--no, nine o'clock!" he added,
+in a lower key. "I have something most important to say to you."
+
+I nodded assent and the Count joined us.
+
+There was a faint flush on his pale cheeks and his eyes were flashing
+brightly, as he looked at us standing close together. It might have been
+the result of his recent conversation, of course; but, coupled with his
+frowning brow and quick, suspicious glance, it looked a great deal more
+like a sudden fit of anger at seeing us engaged in what appeared like a
+confidential talk. But there was no trace of it in his tone when he
+addressed us.
+
+"Really, you two might be conspirators," he said lightly. "Well, Mr.
+Morton, have you changed your mind, or am I to have the honour of your
+company this evening?"
+
+"I am ready to start when you are," I answered. "Good-night once more,
+Lord Langerdale."
+
+He shook my hand warmly, nodded to the Count, who returned the salute
+with a stiff bow, and left us. We descended into the street, and a very
+small, neat brougham, drawn by a pair of dark, handsome bays, drew up at
+the entrance. The coachman's livery was perfectly plain, save that he
+wore a cockade in his hat, and there was neither coat-of-arms nor crest
+upon the panel of the door. We stepped inside, and the Count held a
+speaking-tube for a moment to his mouth while he consulted his watch.
+There was no footman.
+
+"Frivolity Theatre," he directed. And we drove off at a smart pace into
+the Strand.
+
+We reached our destination in a few moments and had no difficulty in
+obtaining seats. It was all new to me, and I felt a little bewildered as
+I endeavoured to follow the performance. I soon had enough of that. The
+piece was a screaming farce, vulgar and stupid.
+
+"I don't think Mr. Marx is here," I whispered to de Cartienne.
+
+"I don't think he is," was the rejoinder. "I had a good look round for
+him when we came in. Have you had enough of this performance? If so,
+we'll go. I think I know where we shall find Marx."
+
+"Then let us go at once," I urged.
+
+We passed out of the theatre into the street, The brougham was there
+waiting for us.
+
+"Jump in!" said the Count, opening the door. "I'm going to tell the
+fellow where to drive to."
+
+I obeyed him, and waited for nearly a minute before he had given his
+directions and joined me. Then he took his seat by my side and we drove
+quickly off.
+
+"Why did you not use the speaking-tube?" I asked idly.
+
+He answered without looking at me.
+
+"It is rather an out-of-the-way place," he said slowly, "and I did not
+wish the man to make a mistake."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIV.
+                  A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.
+
+
+During the earlier part of the evening, since we had left the hotel, my
+companion had shown no disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silence
+amounted almost to moroseness, and he had not always answered my
+questions. But immediately we had started on this new expedition his
+manner underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay himself out with
+feverish eagerness to entertain me and to absorb my attention.
+
+"I hope you're not tired," he said suddenly, at the end of one of his
+anecdotes. "We have rather a long drive before us."
+
+"Not in the least," I assured him. "What is the place we are going to?"
+
+"A sort of private club. In confidence, I'll tell you why it is so far
+out of the way. Some of the members are fond of playing a little high,
+and have started a roulette board. That sort of thing is best kept quiet,
+you know."
+
+"The place is a gambling-club, then?"
+
+"Something of that sort," he acknowledged. "I shouldn't dream of taking
+you there if it wasn't for the sake of meeting Marx. You understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, thanks. Save for that reason I shouldn't think of going."
+
+"What an infernal night!" he exclaimed, looking out of the carriage for a
+moment; "almost enough to give one the miserables. Come, we'll shut it
+out." He struck a match and, turning round, lit a lamp which was fixed at
+the back of the carriage. Then he quietly pulled down the blinds and
+began to tell me a story, of which I heard not a word. My thoughts were
+engrossed by another matter. M. de Cartienne's action, coupled with the
+strangeness of his manner, could bear but one interpretation.
+
+He had some reason for keeping me as much as possible in the dark as to
+the route we were taking.
+
+For a few moments I felt, to put it mildly, uneasy. Then several possible
+explanations of such conduct occurred to me, and my apprehensions grew
+weaker. What more natural, after all, than that M. de Cartienne should
+desire to keep secret from me the exact whereabouts of an establishment
+which, by his own admission, was maintained contrary to the law? The more
+I considered it, the more reasonable such an explanation appeared to me.
+I began to wonder, even, that he had not asked me for some pledge of
+secrecy. But there was time enough for that.
+
+By degrees the rattling of vehicles around us grew less and less, until
+at last all traffic seemed to have died away. Once, during a pause in the
+conversation, I raised the blind a little way and looked out. We had left
+even the region of suburban semi-detached villas; and, blurred though the
+prospect was by the mud which the fast-rolling wheels drew incessantly
+into the air and on to the window-panes, I could just distinguish the dim
+outline of hedges and fields beyond.
+
+I looked at the carriage-clock and found that we had been already an hour
+and a quarter on our journey. From the furious pace at which we were
+travelling we must have come nearly fifteen miles.
+
+"This place is a long way out," I remarked.
+
+The Count laughed and lit a cigarette. "Oh, there's a good reason for
+that. But the men don't drive here from town--at least, not in the
+winter. There's a railway-station only a mile away."
+
+"We're almost there now, then, I suppose?"
+
+He let the blind up with a spring and looked out.
+
+"Nearer than I imagined," he remarked. "We shall be there in three
+minutes."
+
+He was just drawing in his head when he gave a visible start and leaned
+right out of the window, with his face upturned to the beating rain,
+listening intently.
+
+Suddenly he withdrew it, and, snatching at the check-string, pulled it
+violently. I looked at him in amazement. His face was ghastly pale, but
+his thin lips were set firmly together and his features rigid with
+determination. It was the face of a brave, desperate man preparing to
+meet some terrible danger.
+
+The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped down into the road. He
+did not speak to me, so, after a second's hesitation, I followed him and
+stood by his side. There was no mistaking the sound which had alarmed
+him. Behind, at no very great distance, was the sound of galloping horses
+and the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels.
+
+Round the corner it came, a small brougham drawn by a pair of great
+thoroughbred horses, whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards' distance,
+seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de Cartienne snatched one of
+the carriage-lamps from the bracket and, stepping into the middle of the
+road, waved it backwards and forwards over his head. His action had the
+desired effect.
+
+Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses, bathed in foam and mud,
+came to a standstill before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long fur
+coat thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped out into the road.
+The Count was by his side in a moment.
+
+I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot, but with my eyes
+fixed upon the two men.
+
+They could scarcely have spoken a hundred words before their colloquy was
+at an end. The new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de Cartienne
+followed his example. I looked at him as he stepped in, anxious to see
+what effect the other's news had had upon him. Apparently it was not so
+bad as he had feared, for, although he still looked anxious and pale, his
+face had lost its ghastly hue.
+
+We drove on in the same direction as before. When we had started he
+turned to me.
+
+"Do you know what a police raid is?" he asked.
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"Well, I can't stop to explain," he went on rapidly. "Sir Fred--my friend
+there, has just brought down word of some strange rumours about the clubs
+to-night. It seems the police have got to hear of this place and are
+going to pay it an uninvited visit. They won't be here for an hour,
+though, so if you like just to come inside and see whether Marx is there
+or not, you will have time."
+
+We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown avenue, leading up to
+a red-brick house, unilluminated by a single light.
+
+We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting approach and
+pulling up at the grim, closed door. The carriage had scarcely come
+to a standstill before the Count was on the doorstep, fitting a
+curiously-shaped key into the lock. It yielded at once and we both
+stepped inside, followed by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriage
+had pulled up close behind ours.
+
+We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed to be stirring in the
+house, although the mat under our feet, in some way connected with an
+electric alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival. Then we
+heard swift feet approaching and a tall, hard-featured woman in a plain
+black gown, and holding a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.
+
+M. de Cartienne took her by the arm and led her on one side. The other
+man, who was making vain attempts to appear at his ease and composed,
+sank into a chair, palpably trembling. Of the real nature of the danger
+which was imminent I could form only the slightest idea; but that it was
+something very much to be feared I could easily gather from his agitation
+and de Cartienne's manner.
+
+Suddenly the latter turned round.
+
+"Ackland," he said quickly to the man in the chair, eyeing him keenly and
+with a shade of contempt in his tone, "you are not fit for any of the
+serious work, I can see. Listen! Light up the club-room and the
+smoke-room, stir up the fires, bring out the cards and wine-glasses,
+empty some tobacco-ash about, make the place look habitable for us when
+we come. Ferdinand is on the watch outside and will give you notice of
+our visitors. Ring all three alarm-bells at once if he gives the signal.
+Morton, I want you to wait for me. I'll send you away all right before
+anything happens; but don't go unless you see me again--unless you're
+frightened."
+
+He turned on his heel and, without waiting for any answer from either of
+us, hurried away down the passage. The man whom he had called Ackland
+rose from his seat and, striking a match, lighted the gas-brackets all
+around the hall and the burners of a candelabra which hung from the roof.
+
+My companion then threw open a door and I followed him into a
+luxuriously-appointed room, furnished with a suite of lounges and
+easy-chairs corresponding with those in the hall.
+
+Whilst I was looking round, he hastily began moving the chairs about, as
+though they had been recently used, poking the fire and generally making
+the place look inhabited. Having done this, he crossed the hall and
+entered the opposite room. It was a little smaller, but similarly
+appointed and decorated, save that a long table, covered with a white
+cloth and laid for dinner, stood in the centre, and a smaller one, with a
+green baize covering at the further end. My companion threw a pack of
+cards and some counters upon the latter and drew it closer up to the
+fire. Then, having placed some chairs around it, he went back into the
+hall again and I followed.
+
+All the while we had been moving about, strange noises had been going on
+under our feet. Now and then the sound of hurrying footsteps and of
+hoarse voices reached us, and, more often still, the steady rumbling of
+heavy articles being moved about. I looked at my companion for an
+explanation, but he did not seem inclined to offer one.
+
+"What's going on underneath?" I asked at last.
+
+"Bowls!" he answered curtly, "Don't talk, please, I want to listen!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLV.
+                        A MYSTERIOUS COMMISSION.
+
+
+The underground noises continued for about a quarter of an hour, during
+which time my companion busied himself by removing from the club-room
+various articles--the false top of a table marked out in a curious
+fashion, several mahogany boxes, and other contrivances strange to me,
+but presumably gambling appliances, with all of which he disappeared
+through the door by which de Cartienne had made his exit, returning again
+directly.
+
+At last everything was quiet, ominously quiet; then the door from the
+hall was thrown suddenly open, and the Count entered, followed by four or
+five other men. They were all apparently gentlemen, and in evening
+clothes, but terribly soiled and disordered. Some were splashed with mud
+from head to foot, some had their shirt-fronts blackened and crumpled,
+and the hands of all of them were black with grease and dirt. All looked
+more or less pale and nervous--in fact, M. de Cartienne was the only one
+who thoroughly retained his composure.
+
+There was a lavatory on the other side of the staircase, towards which
+the whole of the little party trooped, M. de Cartienne being the last. As
+he disappeared he looked round and beckoned me to follow him. I did so
+and stood by his side, while he plunged his head into some cold water,
+and then began to wash his hands.
+
+"I'm sorry this should have happened to-night, Morton," he said. "Marx
+was here, but has bolted in a fright."
+
+"Couldn't I catch him up?" I asked.
+
+de Cartienne shook his head.
+
+"No; he's in the train by this time. He comes here every night, though.
+I'll bring you down to-morrow, perhaps."
+
+"Are you coming back now?" I asked.
+
+"No; I must see this thing through. You can go and at once, though. My
+carriage will take you back. I shall return by train. By the by, there's
+a small favour I want to ask you."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I have kept a few private papers here, which I should not care to have
+examined should the search really take place. I want you to take them
+back to the hotel for me. The box is a little too heavy for me to carry,
+so I have told them to put it in the carriage as a footstool for you. You
+won't mind that?"
+
+"Not in the least," I replied. "When shall I see you again?"
+
+"At the hotel some time to-morrow. Come along now," he added, putting on
+his coat.
+
+He strolled with me to the front door and, throwing it open, listened
+intently.
+
+There was no sound save the moaning of the wind in the bare trees which
+stood by the side of the house and the patter of the fast-falling rain. I
+stepped into the carriage and the Count came to the window to me.
+
+"Don't forget," he said, pointing to a long, oblong box secured by a
+strong lock. "Draw the rug a little more over your knees--so."
+
+I obeyed him and let it hang down to hide the box, which I began to see
+was his object.
+
+"And if you should meet anyone and they should be impertinent enough to
+ask you where you are going, don't tell them. Give them your card and
+tell them to go to the devil. If they are very pressing indeed, you must
+tell a lie. Say that you've been to dine with Sir Sedgwick Bromley at
+Hatherly Hall. Don't forget the name."
+
+"Very well. Are you coming back to the Metropole to-night?" I asked.
+
+"I think so. But if you don't mind I should be glad if you would have the
+box taken up into your room and keep it for me. I shouldn't like anything
+to happen to it."
+
+I promised, but without much alacrity. We shook hands and the carriage
+drove off.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVI.
+                        A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.
+
+
+We could scarcely have accomplished more than a mile of our homeward
+journey when, with a sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, the
+carriage was brought to a standstill.
+
+On the opposite side of the road were two carriages, or, rather, flys,
+from one of which a tall, slim man was in the act of descending. Several
+other men on horseback were just riding up from behind. They were all in
+plain clothes, but something about their _physique_ and general
+appearance had an unmistakable suggestion of police.
+
+The man who had been descending from the nearer of the two carriages
+crossed the road and approached me.
+
+"Sorry to detain you, sir," he said, saluting in military fashion, "but I
+must ask you your name and address and where you have been this evening."
+
+"I don't know whether it has occurred to you that your behaviour is
+rather strange," I remarked, looking at him steadily, "not to say
+impertinent! What the mischief do you mean by stopping my carriage in
+this way on the high road and asking me questions like that? Who are
+you?"
+
+He hesitated, and then answered with a little more respect in his manner.
+
+"I am deputy chief sergeant at Scotland Yard, sir, and these are my men.
+We have a little business at a house not far from here, and our orders
+are to detain and procure the names and addresses of all persons whom we
+might encounter of whom we had reasonable suspicion that they had
+recently left the house in question. You will not object to give me your
+name, sir?"
+
+"Certainly not. My name is Philip Morton, and my general address is
+Ravenor Castle, Leicestershire. At present I am staying at the Metropole
+Hotel. Are you satisfied?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir," he answered, after one more rapid glance around the
+carriage. "I see that you are not concerned in this affair. I wish you
+good-night!"
+
+We drove rapidly off, and I began to feel not a little dissatisfied with
+myself. The Count had no right to have mixed me up in this affair.
+
+In my ill-temper I gave the box, which lay concealed under my feet, a
+savage kick, sufficient to have sent it flying to the other end of the
+carriage. But there was a little surprise in store for me. To my
+amazement the box remained perfectly immovable, just as though it had
+been screwed into the bottom of the carriage.
+
+Forgetting the Count's earnest injunctions, I threw aside the rug and,
+stooping down, tried to lift it by the handles. In those days I was proud
+of my muscles, and not altogether without reason, but it needed all my
+strength to lift that small box from the ground and hold it for a moment
+in my arms. What could it contain? Papers, cards, gambling appliances?
+Surely it could be none of these! The very idea was ridiculous! The Count
+de Cartienne had deceived me. I had been made the catspaw of those pale,
+anxious men who had watched me start so eagerly and scanned me over with
+many furtive glances. What it was of which I was in charge, I could not
+tell; but in that box lay their secret, and my first indignant impulse
+was to open the carriage door and kick it out into the road.
+
+But are not second thoughts always better? Might not this affair shape
+itself to my advantage? There need be no more obligations to the Count de
+Cartienne. He was possessed of information which was valuable to me. I
+was possessed of this box, which, without doubt, was invaluable to him. I
+would propose an exchange--he should bring me face to face with Mr. Marx
+and receive his precious box; or, if he refused to do so, its destination
+should be Scotland Yard. A very equitable arrangement!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVII.
+                             LIGHT AT LAST.
+
+
+We were in London again, bowling smoothly along wide stretches of silent,
+gas-lit streets, empty, and almost deserted now, for it was past two
+o'clock.
+
+Soon we turned sharply into Northumberland Avenue, and pulled up at the
+hotel. The man on the box--footman I suppose he was, although he was not
+in livery--opened the carriage-door for me and then took possession of
+the small trunk.
+
+"If you will allow me, sir, I will take this up to your room," he said.
+
+"You needn't trouble," I answered. "I can manage."
+
+He retained possession of it.
+
+"The Count's orders were, sir, that I should not allow the hotel servants
+to meddle with it, and that, if possible, I should myself see it
+deposited in your room. You have no objection, sir, I hope?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered, turning away. "In fact, the less I have to do
+with it the better."
+
+We entered the hotel and, crossing the hall, rang for the lift.
+
+The lift came to a standstill at the third floor and we stepped out on to
+the corridor. The Count's servant followed me to my room, deposited the
+box on a chair at the foot of the bed and wished me good-night.
+
+I then got into bed and, full of excitement though the day had been for
+me, slept soundly till morning.
+
+It was five minutes past nine when I entered the great salon of the hotel
+and looked round for Lord Langerdale.
+
+My search was not a long one. He was sitting alone at a table laid for
+three in one of the deep recesses, with a little pile of letters and a
+newspaper before him. Directly he saw me he pushed them away and held out
+his hand.
+
+"Good-morning!" he said pleasantly. "I'm glad to see you're so punctual.
+You're not in a hurry for breakfast for a few minutes, are you?"
+
+"Not at all," I answered, taking the chair which he pushed towards me.
+
+"That's right. My wife will be down in a quarter of an hour, and we'll
+wait for her, if you don't mind."
+
+I bowed my assent, murmuring that I should be delighted, which was
+perfectly true.
+
+Lord Langerdale turned a little round in his chair so as to face me and
+began at once:
+
+"I am rather a blunt sort of man, Mr. Morton--we Irish generally are, you
+know--and I like to go straight at a thing. Will you tell me your
+mother's maiden name?"
+
+"I would with pleasure if I knew it," I answered readily; "but I don't."
+
+"Is she alive?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"She died about nine months ago."
+
+"And Morton is your name? May I ask who your father was?"
+
+"Certainly. He was a farmer in Leicestershire."
+
+"A farmer?" Lord Langerdale looked surprised and I fancied a little
+disappointed. "Was he your mother's first husband?"
+
+I was about to answer in the affirmative, but remembered that I had no
+certain knowledge, so I corrected myself.
+
+"You may think it strange, Lord Langerdale," I said, "but I know nothing
+of my mother's antecedents, nor of her family. From my earliest
+recollection she never mentioned her past, nor permitted others to do so.
+There was some mystery connected with it, I am sure; but what it was I
+have no clue.
+
+"I could not help observing, as everyone else did, that she was far above
+my father from a social point of view, for she was an educated lady and
+he was only a small tenant farmer. Throughout all her life she was
+reticent, and her last act before she died was a paradox. She left me to
+the guardianship of the man whom she had always before seemed to dread
+and fear."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"Mr. Ravenor, of Ravenor Castle. We were tenants of his."
+
+"My God!"
+
+Lord Langerdale's whole appearance was that of a man strongly agitated.
+He turned his head away for a moment, and the long, white fingers which
+supported it were shaking visibly.
+
+I, too, was moved, for it seemed as though the time were come at last
+when something of my mother's history would be made known to me. But he
+seemed in no hurry to speak again. It was I who had to remind him of my
+presence.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," I cried, my voice, despite all my efforts, trembling
+with eagerness, "you know who my mother was? You can tell me her
+history?"
+
+He turned round slowly.
+
+"One more question," he said. "Are you sure that you were born at
+Ravenor?"
+
+"I have never heard otherwise," I told him. "But when I asked my mother
+once at which church I was christened, she could not tell me and forbade
+me to ask again."
+
+Lord Langerdale looked puzzled for a moment, and then asked me my age,
+which I told him.
+
+"Do you remember the time when news came of Mr. Ravenor, after he had
+been supposed to have been dead for so long?"
+
+"Yes. It is about my earliest distinct recollection," I answered.
+
+"Do you remember how your mother received the news?"
+
+Yes, I remembered. Even at that moment a vision rose up before me. I saw
+her standing beneath the ivy-covered porch of our farmhouse, her
+beautiful face ghastly with sudden pallor, and her wild eyes riveted upon
+my father's burly figure, as he shouted out the tidings. I described the
+scene to Lord Langerdale.
+
+"And afterwards did she ever mention Mr. Ravenor's name to you? Did she
+see anything of him?" he asked, when I had finished.
+
+Briefly I told him of her warnings, of my meeting with Mr. Ravenor, of
+his proposal to adopt me, and of my mother's death, and how at the end
+she suddenly turned round and left me to his guardianship. When I had
+finished he laid his hand upon my arm.
+
+"Let us go upstairs to my rooms," he said kindly. "If my wife were to
+come in now and learn the truth--and I'm a bad hand at keeping anything
+back from her--I'm afraid the shock would be too much for her. Come with
+me and I will tell you your mother's history."
+
+So I rose and followed him with beating heart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLVIII.
+                           A PAGE OF HISTORY.
+
+
+Lord Langerdale's suite of apartments was on the second floor, and when
+we reached them it was no small relief to me to find the room into which
+we turned empty. I sank mechanically into the chair to which he pointed,
+whilst he himself remained standing a few feet away from me.
+
+"From what you have told me," he said gravely, "I have not the least
+doubt but that my wife and your mother were sisters."
+
+I gave a little gasp and began to wonder whether this was not all a wild
+dream. Lord Langerdale remained silent, whilst I recovered myself in some
+measure.
+
+"Will you tell me about it?" I asked slowly. "I don't understand."
+
+"I will tell you everything," Lord Langerdale said kindly. "This is a
+great surprise to you, of course, and quite as great a one to me. Here is
+the story--or, rather, as much as I know of it."
+
+He cleared his throat and took a chair by my side. Everything else in the
+room except his face was blurred and indistinct, and his voice seemed to
+come to me from a long distance. But every word he uttered sank into my
+heart.
+
+"Your grandfather was a very poor and very proud English baronet--Sir
+Arthur Montavon. My wife Elsie and your mother were his only children,
+and they were twins. They were presented at Court together, created an
+equal sensation, and were at once allowed to be the beauties of the
+season. This was the time when I first knew them, so it is here that I
+begin my tale.
+
+"Six months after their appearance in Society, Elsie was engaged to be
+married to me. But your mother seemed to be more difficult to please. She
+refused several very good offers, and at the end of her first season she
+was still free.
+
+"I don't know exactly how or where she first met him," Lord Langerdale
+continued slowly; "but before the following spring your mother was
+betrothed to the Count de Cartienne. At that time he was one of the
+richest, the best-looking, and most popular men about town. There seemed
+to be nothing which he could not do, no art in which he was not
+proficient, and he was passionately in love with your mother. Whether she
+ever really cared for him I cannot tell; but if she did, it could only
+have been a very transitory feeling.
+
+"The marriage-day was fixed and was a general topic of conversation. I
+even believe that your mother had begun to prepare her trousseau, when
+something happened. Count de Cartienne was deposed from his post of chief
+favourite in Society, which he at one time held, by a younger and more
+extraordinary man. That man was----"
+
+"Mr. Ravenor!" I exclaimed.
+
+Lord Langerdale nodded.
+
+"I don't think," he went on, "that you can possibly imagine from the Mr.
+Ravenor of to-day what he was when he became the rage of London Society.
+He had just returned from his first journey in the East, after some
+perilous adventures, which had filled the columns of the newspapers for
+weeks and had already created a strong curiosity about him. I met him, I
+think, on the first evening he entered a London drawing-room, and I will
+never forget it.
+
+"He was as handsome as a Greek god, with limbs magnificently developed by
+his hardy, vigorous life and rigid asceticism, with the head of a Byron,
+the manners of a Grandison, and the fire and eloquence of a Burke, when
+he chose to open his mouth.
+
+"Men and women alike were fascinated, which was all the more remarkable
+as he sought no intimate amongst the former, and studiously avoided
+compromising himself with any of the latter, although, Heaven knows, he
+had no lack of opportunity. The only man with whom he seemed to be on at
+all friendly terms was de Cartienne; and the only woman to whom he paid
+any save the most ordinary attention was your mother."
+
+Lord Langerdale paused for several moments and seemed wrapped in a brown
+study, from which my impatience aroused him. He continued at once:
+
+"Things went on smoothly for a time, and then rumours began to get about.
+At first there were only faint whispers, but presently people began to
+talk openly. Count de Cartienne had better beware, they said, or he would
+lose his bride. At first he treated all such suggestions with contempt,
+but the time came when he was forced to consider them seriously.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor published a small volume of poems anonymously, amongst which
+were some passionate love-sonnets addressed to A. M. Everyone was talking
+of the book and wondering who the new poet was, when, through some
+treachery in the publisher's office, the secret leaked out, and everyone
+then knew that those thrilling love-songs were addressed to Alice
+Montavon.
+
+"de Cartienne went straight to Mr. Ravenor and demanded an explanation.
+Mr. Ravenor acknowledged the authorship of the poems, and did not deny
+that the verses in question were addressed to your mother; further than
+that he would not say a word, and simply referred de Cartienne to her.
+
+"He went straight to her, poor fellow! and was met with a piteous
+entreaty that he would release her from her engagement. She loved Mr.
+Ravenor and could marry no one else. What followed remains to some extent
+a secret; but this much we know:
+
+"There was a furious scene between de Cartienne and your mother, which
+ended in his refusing to give her up and threatening to shoot his rival
+if ever he saw them together again. Sir Arthur Montavon, who was deeply
+in de Cartienne's debt, swore that the marriage should take place, and
+apparently they gained their end, for Mr. Ravenor suddenly disappeared,
+and it was reported that he had left the country. On the very day before
+the wedding, however, Society was furnished with a still more sensational
+piece of scandal; your mother left her home secretly and the companion of
+her flight was Mr. Ravenor!"
+
+I could sit still no longer, but rose and walked up and down the room
+with quick, unsteady strides. Lord Langerdale watched me with a great and
+growing pity in his honest face. There was silence between us for several
+minutes, during which, after one keen, restless look of inquiry, I kept
+my face turned away from his. Then he continued his story in a somewhat
+lower key:
+
+"For two days de Cartienne was virtually a maniac. Then he seemed
+suddenly to come to his senses, and I think we all--Elsie and I
+especially--dreaded his terrible, set calmness more even than his
+previous fury. He made no wild threats, nor did he talk to anyone of his
+intentions. But we all knew what they were; and when he left London,
+secretly and alone, we trembled, for we knew that he was going in search
+of your mother. He needed no help, for he was himself a born detective,
+and possessed in a marvellous degree the art of disguising himself.
+
+"Every day we searched the newspapers anxiously, dreading lest we should
+read of the tragedy which we feared was inevitable. But we heard nothing.
+The weeks crept on into months and the months to years and still we heard
+nothing--not even from your mother.
+
+"We advertised, made every possible form of inquiry, but in vain. Then
+came the news of Mr. Ravenor's shipwreck and supposed death, and we
+concluded that your mother had perished with him. I accepted a foreign
+appointment, and only returned to England, after ten years' absence, last
+week. I heard at once of Mr. Ravenor's marvellous return to life and I
+wrote to him. The only reply I received was a single sentence:
+
+"'You can tell your wife that her sister is dead. I have no more to say.'
+
+"Only yesterday, to my amazement, I met de Cartienne again, and with him,
+you, who, I felt sure from the beginning, must be Alice's son. It may
+seem strange to you that I should know so much and yet know no more. But
+it is so."
+
+I turned round and faced him slowly.
+
+"Do you mean to say, then, that after her elopement my mother never once
+communicated with her father or sister?"
+
+"Only in this way. She left a private message for my wife, telling her
+through whom to forward a letter, but not disclosing her whereabouts. Sir
+Arthur Montavon intercepted the message and took advantage of it to write
+a cruel, stern letter, forbidding her ever to appear in his presence
+again, or to address him or her sister; and I am sorry to say that, at
+his command, my wife, too, wrote in a censorious vein, hoping to make up
+for it by sending another letter a few days afterwards. The first letter
+your mother received; the second missed her. She inherited a good deal of
+her father's firmness, almost severity, of disposition, and I have no
+doubt that the receipt of those letters would lead her to cut herself off
+altogether from her family."
+
+"Then you do not even know where she and Mr. Ravenor were married?" I
+asked huskily.
+
+Lord Langerdale shook his head, and I noticed that he failed to look me
+in the face. I braced myself up with a great effort.
+
+"Lord Langerdale," I said quietly, "this is a matter of life or death to
+me. You seem to avoid my question. Answer me this: Have you any reason to
+suppose that--that there was no marriage?"
+
+"None at all," he answered quickly. "But, my dear boy," he went on,
+coming over to my side and resting his hand upon my shoulder, "it is
+always as well to be prepared for the worst. I will tell you how it has
+seemed to me sometimes. Mr. Ravenor had very peculiar views with regard
+to marriage, something similar to those Shelley held in his youth, and we
+never heard of any ceremony, which seems strange. Then, too, their
+separation and your mother's marriage to a farmer, her stern, lonely life
+afterwards, and the fact that your birth has been kept concealed from
+you----"
+
+He hesitated and seemed to gather encouragement from my face. I could
+not, I would not, for a moment share his fear when I thought steadfastly
+about it. I thought of my mother dying, with a saint-like peace upon her
+face, in Mr. Ravenor's arms. I thought of the calm, sorrowful dignity of
+her life, and the idea refused for a moment to linger in my mind. Some
+other great cause for estrangement there must have been between them, but
+not that--not that!
+
+"I will go down and see Ravenor to-day," Lord Langerdale declared, with
+sudden energy. "I will wrest the truth from him."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"This matter lies between him and me only," I said, in a low tone. "I
+will go to him."
+
+The handle of the door was softly turned and Lady Langerdale stood upon
+the threshold. Her husband went over to her at once.
+
+"Elsie," he said, "you were right. There are many things which yet remain
+in darkness; but this is Alice's boy--your sister's son."
+
+She came up to me with outstretched hands and a wistful look in her
+sweet, womanly face.
+
+My heart stood still for a moment, and then gave a great throb as I felt
+the warm clasp of her hands and the tremulous touch of her lips upon my
+forehead.
+
+I knew that I had reached a crisis in my life, and though it had brought
+with it a great fear, it had also brought a great joy, for it seemed as
+though the days of my loneliness were over.
+
+Could I doubt it when I looked into Lady Langerdale's face and felt my
+uncle's warm hand-clasp? There was a sweetness about such a thought hard
+for another to realise, and for a moment I gave myself up to it. Whilst
+Lord Langerdale briefly told his wife the few particulars which I had
+been able to give him of my mother and myself, I stood between the two,
+keenly conscious of and enjoying the change which seemed hovering over my
+life.
+
+But afterwards I remembered the ordeal which I had yet to face and the
+mission which had brought me to London, and they saw the gladness die
+slowly out of my face.
+
+Lord Langerdale questioned me concerning it, and then I told them
+everything--told them of our suspicions in connection with Mr. Marx and
+of my determination to find him out, and discover whether he had been
+guilty of foul play towards the man Hart.
+
+When I came to my last night's adventure with Count de Cartienne, Lord
+Langerdale looked very grave.
+
+"It seems to me," he declared, "that this is more a matter for the police
+than for you to mix yourself up in."
+
+I shook my head. Of one thing I did feel confident, although, as regards
+the whole of the rest of the affair, I was in a complete maze.
+
+However anxious Mr. Ravenor might be for the truth concerning the missing
+man to be discovered, he had strong reasons for not wishing the police to
+take part in the search. I felt sure of that, and was determined to act
+accordingly.
+
+Lord Langerdale was not easily reassured.
+
+"I don't like the idea of your having anything whatever to do with de
+Cartienne in all the circumstances," he said, with a shudder. "He can
+have but one feeling for you, and a more dangerous man does not breathe.
+It is an evil chance that has brought you together."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIX.
+                            I WILL GO ALONE.
+
+
+We all sat down to breakfast together. Lord Langerdale divided his
+attention between his breakfast and _The Times_.
+
+"Are you going shopping to-day, Elsie?" he asked, looking up from his
+paper.
+
+She glanced at him inquiringly.
+
+"I think so. Why?"
+
+"Be very careful about your change, then. There has never been so much
+bad money about as just now. The papers are full of the most startling
+rumours. Coining must be going on in London somewhere upon an enormous
+scale, and the police are---- Why, Philip, what's the matter with you?"
+
+I recovered myself promptly and set down the cup which I had been within
+an ace of spilling.
+
+"The coffee was a little hot," I said slowly. "It was very stupid of me."
+
+He went on reading and Lady Langerdale began to talk to me. But my
+attention was wandering. It was a strange idea which had occurred to me,
+perhaps a ridiculous one. Yet it was possessed of a certain fascination.
+
+In the middle of breakfast a waiter brought me a note. Lady Langerdale's
+permission was given unasked and I tore it open. It was from de
+Cartienne, and the contents, though brief, were to the point:
+
+  "My dear Morton,--I have seen the man whom you are seeking and I know
+  for certain where he will be to-morrow night. My carriage shall call
+  for you at ten o'clock in the evening--to-morrow, mind; not this
+  evening--and if you care to come I will bring you to him. By the by,
+  you might as well bring with you the box which you were good enough to
+  take care of--Yours,
+
+                                                          "E. de C."
+
+I handed it to Lord Langerdale, who adjusted his glasses and read it
+through carefully.
+
+"I don't like it," he remarked, when he had finished; "don't like it at
+all. Take my advice, Philip; send him his box, or whatever it is, and
+don't go."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"I must find out about Mr. Marx," I answered, "and I know of no other
+means. That will be to-morrow night, you know. To-day----"
+
+"Yes, what are we going to do to-day?" Lord Langerdale interrupted.
+
+I answered him without hesitation:
+
+"I am going down to Ravenor Castle."
+
+He looked surprised, a little agitated.
+
+"I shall go with you," Lord Langerdale suddenly declared. "Alice was my
+sister-in-law, and if Ravenor deserted or ill-used her, I have the right
+to call him to account for it."
+
+"And I a better one," I reminded him quietly. "Grant me this favour
+please. I must go alone and see him--alone."
+
+He looked at his wife and she inclined her head towards me.
+
+"The boy is right," she said softly. "It is his affair, not ours. It will
+be better for him to go alone."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER L.
+                           I MEET MY FATHER.
+
+
+After a wearying journey I stood at last before the great gates of the
+castle, the bell at my feet giving shrill notice of my presence. The
+lodge-keeper hurried out and welcomed me.
+
+I walked swiftly up the winding ascent, straight across the flagged
+courtyard and entered the castle by a side-door. Then, heedless of the
+surprised looks of the servants, I made my way to the library, and
+knocking softly at the door of the inner room, entered.
+
+At first it seemed to me that he was not there, for the chamber was in
+semi-darkness. The heavily-shaded lamp which stood upon the writing-table
+was turned down so low as to afford no light at all, and the fitful glow
+of the firelight left the greater part of the room in shadow. But as I
+stood upon the threshold a burning coal dropped upon the hearth, and by
+its flame I saw him leaning back in a high oak chair a few feet away.
+
+Softly I moved across the room towards him and then I saw that he was
+asleep.
+
+I made no movement, but somehow he seemed to become conscious of my
+presence and opened his eyes. They fell upon me standing on the
+hearth-rug before him, and he sat up with a start.
+
+"Philip!" he cried, "you here? You back? You have found him, then?"
+
+At the sound of his voice I trembled, yet I answered him at once:
+
+"Not yet. To-morrow night I shall see him. Till then I could do
+nothing--and I came here." He looked at my mud-bespattered boots and
+wind-tossed hair.
+
+"You have walked from Mellborough?" he asked. Then something in my face
+seemed to strike him, and, leaning forward, he placed his hands upon my
+shoulders and turned towards the glow of the fire.
+
+"You have come with a purpose!" he said slowly. "Tell me--you have heard
+something in London?"
+
+I bowed my head silently.
+
+"Some story of the past--my past?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My God!"
+
+Then there was silence between us. I bore it till I could bear it no
+longer.
+
+"Can you wonder that I have come?" I cried, my voice shaking with a
+passion which I knew no longer how to restrain. "Oh, speak to me! Tell me
+whether this thing is true?"
+
+"It is true."
+
+He had drawn back a little; he had hesitated. I caught hold of his hands
+and drew him towards me.
+
+"My father," I cried passionately, "speak to me! Why do you draw away? Is
+it because--because--oh, only speak to me, call me your son, and if there
+be anything to forgive I will forgive it."
+
+He seemed suddenly to abandon an unnatural struggle and caught me by the
+hands and clasped them. For a moment his face was radiant.
+
+"Philip, my son, my dear son!" he cried. "Thank God, it is not that!
+Thank God, that my name is yours! You are indeed my son."
+
+After a considerable silence my father told me how he had met Marx
+abroad. He had done him some service and they had become friendly. He
+latterly engaged him as secretary.
+
+Then he went on to tell me how Marx had met him on his return after his
+long absence and had taken him to see his wife, who believed him dead.
+
+He then told me how he had found her married again to Farmer Morton and
+implored her to come back to him. She refused, and he, in a blind fury,
+rushed back to where he had left Marx.
+
+He was attacked by Morton; a struggle ensued on the brink of the
+slate-pit. After a time my father managed to fling Morton from him and
+fled.
+
+That night Marx came to him and told him he had thrown Morton into the
+quarry, and that a man named Hart, _alias_ Francis, had witnessed the
+deed. My father wanted to confess, but Marx persuaded him to keep silent
+and paid Francis to bear the crime.
+
+"Now you know why I shrank from calling you my son, knowing that when the
+time came for you to be told of your parentage, I must also tell you that
+your father was a murderer!"
+
+"It is false!" I cried, springing up and seizing both his hands. "It was
+an accident. No one could call it a murder. Oh, my father, my father,
+that you should have suffered like this for so slight a cause!"
+
+A light leaped into his face and for a moment his wasted features and
+sunken eyes glowed and shone with a great, unexpected happiness. He drew
+me gently to him and laid his hands upon my shoulders.
+
+"Thank God for this, Philip!" he said, with trembling voice. "It is
+greater consolation than I ever dared hope for in this world."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LI.
+                                 DAWN.
+
+
+On the morrow as we walked out together, my father and I, making our way
+as though by common consent up towards the bare brown hills, I remembered
+that there were many things which I wished to say to him.
+
+"I want to ask you about Mr. Marx, father," I began. "Everything
+concerning him is so utterly mysterious, especially his going away so
+suddenly. Apart from the fear of his having used some sort of foul play
+towards Hart--or Francis--I can't help thinking that there is something
+else wrong with him. You trust him thoroughly, I suppose?" I added
+hesitatingly.
+
+"I have always done so," my father answered quietly.
+
+"Do you like the man himself?" I asked.
+
+My father shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+
+"I cannot say that he has ever aroused my feelings in any way," he
+answered. "He has had work to do for me and has done it well and
+silently. I have looked upon him somewhat as an automaton, although a
+valuable one. And yet----" he added musingly.
+
+"Yet what?" I interrupted.
+
+"Well, sometimes I have half fancied that he was playing a part, that his
+interest in our work was a little strained. He gave me the idea of a man
+working steadily forward towards a set purpose, and I have never seemed
+able to reconcile that purpose with the completion of our task. His
+sudden absences, too--for this is not the first of them,--are strange."
+
+"I should think so," I assented. "Has he taken anything away with him
+this time?" I asked bluntly.
+
+A very grave look came into my father's face and he did not answer me at
+once. When he did so his tone was low and anxious.
+
+"Yes, he has. About a fortnight ago we came to the end, virtually, of our
+long task. There was only a little revision wanted, which he was to have
+left for me. The night that he disappeared the manuscript disappeared
+also. Evidently he took it away with him."
+
+"Perhaps he has taken it to the publishers," I suggested. My father shook
+his head doubtfully.
+
+"Only this morning I have heard from them, begging me to forward it
+without delay," he said.
+
+I was silent. Even if he had taken the manuscript, what use could he make
+of it? How could it profit him?
+
+Suddenly I stood still in the path. My heart gave a great leap and a cry
+broke from my lips. For the first time an idea, the vague phantom of an
+idea, swept in upon me, carrying all before it, and casting a brilliant,
+lurid light upon all that seemed so dark and mysterious.
+
+"This man, Marx," I cried, seizing my father's arm. "Tell me quickly. Has
+he ever reminded you of anyone?"
+
+My father looked at me wonderingly.
+
+"It is strange that you should ask that," he said. "Sometimes, especially
+when I have come upon him alone, or have seen him excited, his tone and
+little mannerisms have seemed somehow vaguely familiar. And yet," he
+added thoughtfully, "I have never been able to recall of whom they have
+reminded me."
+
+I opened my trembling lips to speak, but a wave of cold doubt swept in
+upon me. Surely this thing could not be! I must be mad to let the idea
+linger for a moment in my mind. And yet----
+
+At that moment of my hesitation, my father's hand fell heavily upon my
+arm. He pointed forward along the dark avenue with a shaking finger. In
+the dim twilight we could see the tall gaunt figure of a man in ragged
+clothes, making his way up to the castle.
+
+"That is not one of my men, Philip," he said hoarsely. "Who is it?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"It is a stranger."
+
+My father turned abruptly from the avenue into a side-walk.
+
+"Follow me," he said; "we will go in by the private way."
+
+We walked across the turf, through a little iron gate, which my father
+unlocked, and entered the shrubbery walk.
+
+Once I looked round through an opening in the laurel leaves. The stranger
+was leaning wearily against the railings round the lodge, waiting for
+admittance.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LII.
+                           WHERE IS MR. MARX?
+
+
+Not until we had reached the Castle and were in the library did my father
+speak to me. Then his words were grave enough.
+
+"We have done Mr. Marx an injury, Philip," he said slowly.
+
+"How?" I asked.
+
+"Listen, and you will know."
+
+He went to the telephone and signalled. The answer came at once.
+
+"Someone has been asking for me at the gate," he said. "Who is it?"
+
+"A stranger, sir, to see you."
+
+"What name?"
+
+"Hart, sir."
+
+"Is he waiting?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I told him that it would be useless, but he refuses to go
+away."
+
+"You can pass him. Send him here at once."
+
+My father turned away and looked at me with all the old weariness in his
+face, but with little agitation. Of the two, I was the more nervous. I
+crossed the room and laid my hand gently upon his shoulder.
+
+"Thank God that I am here with you! What shall you say to him, father?
+What does he want, think you? Money?"
+
+My father shook his head sadly.
+
+"He would send if that were all. He has what he wants and that is not
+much. I fear that he wants something else."
+
+"What?"
+
+"His good name cleared."
+
+"He took the guilt willingly," I cried. "He must bear it now. He cannot
+escape from it."
+
+"He can," my father answered. "He can tell the truth."
+
+"No one would believe him. It would be his word against yours. What
+chance would he have?"
+
+My father turned a stern, dark face upon me.
+
+"So you think that I would swear to a lie, Philip? No! There was always
+this risk. I have felt that if ever he should demand to be set right with
+the world, it must be done."
+
+"It shall be done."
+
+We started, for the words came from the other side of the room. Standing
+in the deep shadows just inside the door was a tall, gaunt man, with long
+dishevelled beard and pale, ghastly face. His clothes were ragged and
+weather-stained and his boots were thick with mud. I looked towards him
+fascinated. It was the face of the lunatic who had twice attempted Mr.
+Marx's life. It was Hart, _alias_ Francis, the man who held in his hands
+a life dearer to me than my own.
+
+"Is it really you, Francis?" my father asked, in a shocked tone. "You are
+altered. You have been ill. Sit down."
+
+He took no notice. Whilst my father had been speaking his eyes had been
+wandering restlessly round the room.
+
+"Where is--he?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+"Do you mean Mr. Marx?" I said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is in London."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was an expression in his face partly of disappointment, partly of
+relief. He drew a long breath and remained silent, as though waiting to
+be questioned.
+
+"Do you want money?" my father asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you want to give up your secret, to let the world know the truth?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+A cry burst from my lips, but my father checked me.
+
+"It is well," he said. "Sit down. You need not fear; I will confess."
+
+"You have nothing to confess. It is I who must do that."
+
+"What do you mean?" my father asked, peering forward into the darkness,
+for there was no lamp lit in the room. "Come nearer; I cannot see your
+face."
+
+With trembling fingers I drew up the blind from the high window. The
+moon, which had just emerged from a bank of black, flying clouds, cast a
+long stream of light across the room.
+
+Francis moved forward with slow, reluctant steps. Then, with a sudden,
+wild cry, he threw himself upon his knees before my father.
+
+"As God in Heaven forgives, swear that you will forgive me!" he cried
+passionately.
+
+"Forgive! I have nothing to forgive," my father answered gently. "You
+wish to lay down your burden. Good! I am ready to take it up."
+
+He stooped forward in his chair and stretched out his hand to the man to
+help him rise. In his altered position the moonlight seemed to cast a
+sort of halo round his face, and it seemed to me like the face of an
+angel.
+
+"Don't touch me," cried the man; "don't. I can't bear it! Let me tell you
+the truth, or I shall die. You think that you killed Farmer Morton. It's
+false! Mr. Marx killed him."
+
+"What!"
+
+My father had sprung to his feet. Somehow, I found myself by his side.
+Francis still grovelled on the floor.
+
+"Up, man, and tell me all the truth," my father cried out in a voice of
+thunder; "up on your feet and speak like a man."
+
+He obeyed at once, trembling in every limb. Then he faltered out his
+story:
+
+"I was in the wood that night. It was dark; I lost my way. Suddenly I
+heard voices--yours and Morton's. You were struggling within a few feet
+of me. Before I could interfere you had thrown him down and rushed away.
+I heard him breathing hard, and I saw Mr. Marx steal out from behind a
+tree and creep up to him. Morton heard, too, and sprang up. They
+struggled together; perhaps in the darkness, Morton mistook him for you.
+I remembered the quarry and rushed out. I was too late.
+
+"There was a fearful flash of lightning and I saw Marx put forth all his
+strength and throw the other into the slate-pit. He turned round and saw
+me.
+
+"He would have hurled me over, too, if he had dared, but I was strong and
+he was exhausted. So he offered me money to go away. I accepted, never
+thinking that they would fix the crime upon me. Marx had thought it all
+out with a devilish cunning. He provided me with disguises and told me
+where to go to and how to get there. When I was safe away and read the
+papers, I saw at once how I had been trapped. I had pleaded guilty to the
+murder.
+
+"Time went on and I grew more miserable every day. Marx sent me plenty of
+money--too much. I began to drink. I was ill. When I recovered I wrote to
+tell him that I could bear it no longer and that I was coming to see him.
+I told him that I meant to go to a magistrate after I had given him time
+to get out of the country. He dared me to come to the Castle. Still, I
+came. It was dusk when I got here. He met me in the avenue. He offered me
+large sums of money to go away, but I was determined and refused
+everything. It was then from something he let fall in his anger that I
+knew how he had been deceiving you. Then I would not listen to him any
+more and bade him stand out of the way. He let me pass him and then
+struck me on the back of the head with some heavy weapon."
+
+"My God!" I cried. "I was close to you. I heard you cry and I met Mr.
+Marx directly afterwards. He must have thrown you down the gravel-pit."
+
+"It was there I found myself when I came to my senses," Francis
+continued. "Directly I sat up and tried to think over what had happened I
+began to feel my head swim. After that everything is blurred and dim in
+my mind. I fled. The second time, you, Mr. Morton, saved his life from
+me, as my fingers were closing upon his throat.
+
+"They put me in an asylum. Afterwards Mr. Marx passed himself off as my
+brother and had me moved into a private one. The commissioners came and I
+appeared before them. I was sane. They let me go. Where is Mr. Marx?
+Where is Mr. Marx?"
+
+There was a deep silence. Then I held out my hand to my father and he
+clasped it.
+
+"Thank God!" I cried, my voice quivering with a great sob--"thank God!"
+
+"Amen," my father repeated softly.
+
+Again that question, in the same dry, hard tone.
+
+"Where is Mr. Marx?"
+
+We looked at him--at his nervously twitching hands and burning eyes. The
+madness was upon him again. We must not let him go. My father drew me on
+one side.
+
+"I shall go to London with you to-night," he said. "What shall we do with
+this man?"
+
+"He must stay here," I answered. "Leave it to me."
+
+I went up to him and laid my hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Listen, Francis," I said. "There are two places where Mr. Marx is likely
+to be this week. One is in London, the other here. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes," he answered; "I understand."
+
+"Now, Mr. Ravenor and I know best where to find him in London, but we
+can't leave unless we know that there is someone on the look-out here as
+well. If we go to London, will you remain here and watch for him?"
+
+The man's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Yes," he answered quickly. "This is the room where he writes, isn't it?
+He will come here. Yes, I will wait; I will watch here in this room."
+
+My father rang a bell and ordered a carriage to take us to the station.
+Then he gave special orders about Francis. He was to be allowed to remain
+in the library, to use Mr. Ravenor's own sleeping apartment, and to have
+meals brought to him regularly.
+
+An hour later we left the castle for Torchester. As we drove across the
+courtyard we could see a pale, gaunt figure standing at the library
+window, silent and rigid. It was Francis, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIII.
+                       MESSRS. HIGGENSON AND CO.
+
+
+At ten o'clock we reached St. Pancras, travelling by fast train from
+Torchester, and half an hour later a hansom put us down at the Hotel
+Metropole. Immediately in front of the entrance Count de Cartienne's
+small brougham was waiting, and as we descended from the cab his servant
+stepped forward and handed me a note. I tore it open and read it under
+the gas-lamp.
+
+"Come to me at once and you will find Mr. M----. Bring the box with
+you.--C----."
+
+I passed the note on to my father and drew him a little on one side. At
+the sight of the handwriting he started.
+
+"Philip, whose writing is this?" he asked quickly.
+
+"The writing of the man who alone knows where Marx is," I answered. "It
+is he who calls for his letters and forwards them."
+
+"His name? I insist upon knowing his name."
+
+"de Cartienne."
+
+My father's face turned a shade paler and his eyebrows contracted.
+
+"You have been keeping this from me, Philip. You shall not go near that
+man. I forbid it. My God! Marx and de Cartienne friends!"
+
+He stopped short on the pavement and looked at me with a new light in his
+face. He began to understand.
+
+"Marx and de Cartienne," he repeated slowly. "Philip, cannot you see what
+this means? Marx has been de Cartienne's tool and I have been their
+victim. Where is de Cartienne? Philip, you shall tell me! Do you hear?"
+
+My father seized my arm and held it fast. I turned and faced him.
+
+"Father, you must leave this to me," I said, firmly. "I have thought it
+all over in the train and my plans are made. You will trust me?"
+
+"Tell me what they are," he said.
+
+"I have in my possession a box belonging to de Cartienne, which contains
+a secret. Until I yield that box up to him I am safe, since he can only
+get it from me. You see that he tells me in this note to bring it with
+me."
+
+"Yes. Go on."
+
+"Well, I am going without the box, and if he is really ignorant of who I
+am and willing to give me the information about Marx, why, then I can
+easily come back for it, and whatever it contains he must have unopened.
+
+"If, on the other hand, I fall into any sort of trap and he makes me send
+for it, then, immediately on receipt of my message, no matter how it is
+couched, you must force the box open, and if it contains anything in the
+least suspicious, come straight to my aid with the police. The messenger
+who comes for the box must be bribed or frightened into bringing you."
+
+"I do not like it, Philip. It is all too roundabout. If de Cartienne has
+any idea who you are, you are running a risk."
+
+"I don't think so," I answered. "Until he gets possession of that box he
+will feel himself, to a certain extent, in my hands and will not be
+likely to do me an injury."
+
+"What do you suppose the box contains?"
+
+I hesitated and looked around. de Cartienne's servant was some distance
+off and there was no one within hearing.
+
+"Have you read the newspapers just lately?" I asked.
+
+My father shook his head.
+
+"Only the literary newspapers."
+
+I bought a special edition, which a newsboy was brandishing in our faces,
+and, turning down the leading article, passed it on to my father. He
+glanced down at it and then looked up at me in blank amazement.
+
+"Philip, you cannot mean this!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?" I answered. "I do, indeed; but whether there is anything in it
+or not we shall soon know. I must go now. You understand what to do if I
+send for the box."
+
+"I don't like your expedition at all," he said, doubtfully. "Have you any
+idea where you are going?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"None; but I shall come to no harm. My star is in the ascendant now. If
+it leads me into danger it will bring me safely out of it. _Au revoir!_"
+
+Then I sprang into the carriage and was driven swiftly away.
+
+Our journey came to a sudden end, and, if I was surprised at the locality
+into which it had brought me, I was still more so at its termination. The
+carriage had stopped outside a gloomy-looking warehouse, the back of
+which, ornamented with several cranes, overlooked the river. The whole of
+the front appeared to be in darkness, but from a gas-lamp on the other
+side of the narrow way I could read the brass sign-plate by the side of
+the door:
+
+                           HIGGENSON AND CO.
+                        Merchants and Exporters.
+
+The door of the carriage was thrown open and I was evidently expected to
+descend. I did so after a moment's hesitation.
+
+"Are you sure that you have brought me to the right place?" I asked the
+man who held the door open. "This seems to be a warehouse. I think there
+must be some mistake."
+
+The man silently closed the carriage door and stepped up to his seat
+beside the driver.
+
+"There is no mistake," he said curtly. "You will find the Count de
+Cartienne--there."
+
+He pointed to the warehouse door and I saw that it was now open and that
+a man was standing upon the threshold. I turned towards him doubtfully.
+
+"Will you come this way, Mr. Morton?" he said. "Count de Cartienne is
+sorry to have to bring you here, but we are busy--very busy, and he had
+no time to get back to the hotel. The carriage will wait to take you
+back."
+
+The man's manner and tone were certainly not those of a servant, but from
+the position in which he stood I could see nothing save the bare outline
+of his figure. I crossed the pavement towards him.
+
+We left the room and he conducted me down a passage and into a small
+chamber. Here my companion paused and lit a lamp which stood on a table
+in the middle of the room.
+
+"Count de Cartienne will be with you in a moment," he said, walking to
+the door. "Kindly excuse me."
+
+I turned the lamp a little higher and looked around. The room was quite a
+small one and plainly furnished as a waiting-room.
+
+For the first time I began to realise fully what I had done in coming to
+this place at such an hour. Some wild thoughts of a tardy retreat flashed
+into my mind, and I tried the handle of the door by which we had entered.
+It turned, but the door remained closed. I stooped down and examined it.
+The result was as I had feared--a spring lock had fastened it. I tried
+the other door, by which my guide had issued. The result was the same. I
+was a prisoner.
+
+I had scarcely time to realise my position before it became necessary to
+act. The door was suddenly opened and Count de Cartienne stood before me,
+his eyes flashing with anger and his tall, lithe frame quivering with
+rage.
+
+"Why have you not brought that box?" he exclaimed in a low, fierce tone.
+
+I stood up facing him, with my back to the table, striving to keep calm,
+for the situation was critical. The complete change in his appearance and
+manner towards me was sufficient warning.
+
+"The box is safe enough," I answered. "You can have it in an hour's time.
+But----"
+
+"But what?" he interrupted, savagely. "Why have you not brought it, as I
+bade you in my note? Why is it not here? We want it at once!"
+
+"You forget that there is a _quid pro quo_ which I expect from you. It
+seems to me, Count de Cartienne, that you are making a tool of me,
+and----"
+
+"What is it you want--to see this man Marx?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, he is not here."
+
+I checked the rejoinder which, had I spoken it, would probably have cost
+me my life.
+
+"Where is he, then?" I asked.
+
+"I will tell you when you have written for that box," he said, opening a
+drawer and placing pen and paper upon the table.
+
+I shook my head. "There is no need for me to write. It is of no use my
+remaining if Mr. Marx is not here. Send your servant back with me and I
+will give it him."
+
+"No, I shall hold you as a hostage for the box. Besides, I have a few
+words to say to you, boy," he added grimly. "Write."
+
+I hesitated, but only for a moment.
+
+"Do I understand that you detain me here against my will?" I said,
+slowly.
+
+"Understand anything you please, but write."
+
+I took up the pen without another word. When I had finished the note he
+took it from me and read it through. Then he glanced at the address and
+started.
+
+"Mr. Ravenor! Oh, Mr. Ravenor is in London, is he?" he remarked slowly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+He looked away with the ghost of an evil smile upon his lips.
+
+"Ravenor in London! How strange. He and I are old acquaintances. I must
+call on him," he added mockingly.
+
+He stood still for a moment and then left the room abruptly with the note
+in his hand. I tried to follow him, but the door closed too quickly. If I
+could have seen any means of escape I should have made use of them, for I
+had gained the knowledge which I had come to seek, and I knew that I was
+in danger. There was only that solitary window looking out upon the river
+and the closed door. If this man meant mischief, I was securely in his
+power.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LIV.
+                                A RAID.
+
+
+In a few minutes Count de Cartienne returned:
+
+He flashed a sudden keen glance at me.
+
+"I wonder if you have any idea as to the contents of that box," he said,
+keeping his eyes fixed curiously upon me.
+
+Looking back now, I see clearly that I was guilty of the grossest folly
+in answering as I did. But I was young, impetuous, conscious of great
+physical strength, and with all that contempt of danger which such
+consciousness brings. So, without hesitation, I drew from my pocket the
+evening paper which I had bought in Northumberland Avenue, and laid my
+finger upon the column which I had shown my father.
+
+"This may have something to do with it," I remarked.
+
+His face grew a shade paler as he glanced it through. Then he folded it
+up and handed it back to me with a polite gesture.
+
+"So that is your idea, is it?" he remarked. "Why didn't you go to
+Scotland Yard and tell them of your suspicions?"
+
+I felt that he was watching me keenly and made a great effort to remain
+composed, although my pulses were beating fast and I felt my colour
+rising.
+
+"It was no business of mine," I answered. "Besides, if I had done so I
+should have lost my chance of finding out anything about Mr. Marx from
+you."
+
+"Your reasoning does you infinite credit," he answered, with a slight
+sneer. "You are quite a Machiavelli. Come; I want to show you over
+my--warehouse."
+
+I followed him reluctantly, for I liked his manner less and less; but I
+had scarcely an alternative.
+
+We passed along a narrow passage and through several rooms piled up to
+the ceiling with huge bales; then we descended a winding flight of iron
+steps, and as we reached the bottom I began to hear a faint hum of voices
+and strange, muffled sounds.
+
+He unlocked a small, hidden door before us, and we stood on the threshold
+of a large, dimly-lit cellar.
+
+One swift glance around showed me the truth of my vague suspicions, and
+warned me, too, of my peril. It was a weird sight. At the far end of the
+place a small furnace was burning, casting a vivid glow upon the white,
+startled faces of the men who were grouped around it. One held in his
+hand a great ladlefull of hissing liquid, and another on his knees was
+holding steady the mould which was to receive it. But though they kept
+their positions unchanged, they thought no more of their tasks. The
+attention of one and all was bent upon me in horror-struck amazement.
+
+The man who first recovered himself sufficiently to be able to frame an
+articulate sentence was the man holding the ladle.
+
+"Are you mad, de Cartienne?" he hissed out. "What have you brought that
+young cub down here for?"
+
+"I have brought him here," he answered, with a shade of contempt in his
+tone at the alarm which they were all showing, "because he is safer here
+than anywhere else--for the present.
+
+"Somehow or other--probably by looking inside that unfortunate box--this
+young cub, as you call him, knows our secret. To let him go would, of
+course, be absurd, so I've brought him here to be tried for his
+unpardonable curiosity. What shall we do with him? I propose that we
+throw him into the river."
+
+I moved a little farther back towards the door, listening with strained
+ears and bated breath, for I fancied that I heard a faint sound of voices
+and footsteps above. Apparently the others had heard it, too, for there
+was a death-like silence for a few moments. Then spoke the Count.
+
+"That must be Drummond with the box. Will you go and see, Ferrier?"
+
+There was the trampling of many feet outside, and then a sudden swift
+torrent of blows upon the closed door.
+
+In an instant all was wild confusion. Count de Cartienne was the only one
+who was not panic-stricken.
+
+"The game is up," he cried fiercely, "and here is the traitor."
+
+Like lightning he stooped down and I saw something in his hand flash
+before my eyes. There was a strange burning pain and then everything
+faded away before my sight. I heard the door beaten down and the sound of
+my rescuers streaming in. Then all sound became concentrated in a
+confused roar, which throbbed for a moment in my ears and then died away.
+Unconsciousness crept in upon me.
+
+When I opened my eyes again I found myself lying upon a bed in a strange
+room. By my side was my father, leaning back in a low, easy chair.
+
+"Where am I?" I asked. "How long have I been here! Tell me all about it."
+
+My father stood up with a little exclamation of relief.
+
+"Better, Philip? That is well. You are at the nearest decent hotel we
+could find last night, or rather this morning."
+
+"Tell me all about it," I cried.
+
+"Everyone was taken except de Cartienne. He fought like a tiger and got
+off. But it is only for a while. He will be caught. His description----"
+
+"His description will be of no use at all," I interrupted, breathlessly.
+"Has anything been heard of Mr. Marx?"
+
+My father picked up an open telegram from the table by his side.
+
+"Mr. Marx has gone back to Ravenor. This telegram is from the
+stationmaster at Mellborough."
+
+I leapt from the bed and plunged my still aching head into a basin of
+water.
+
+"What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill again if you excite
+yourself," my father said wondering.
+
+"I'm all right," I answered. "What is the time?"
+
+"Four o'clock."
+
+"Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o'clock train to Mellborough,"
+I urged.
+
+"To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?"
+
+"de Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is Marx we want."
+
+Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he sprang to his feet with a
+low cry.
+
+"Philip, why did you not tell me before?"
+
+"I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I kept it to myself. He
+thinks himself safe as Mr. Marx--safer than flying the country as the
+Count de Cartienne--the villain!"
+
+Suddenly my father stopped short on his way to the door.
+
+"Philip," he said hoarsely, "do you remember whom we left at Ravenor
+waiting for Mr. Marx?"
+
+For the moment I had forgotten it. We looked at one another and there
+crept into my mind the vision of a gaunt, desperate man, his white face
+and burning eyes filled with an unutterable fiendish longing. The same
+thought filled us both. If Mr. Marx made use of his private keys and went
+straight to the library at the castle, what would come of it?
+
+I laid my hand upon my father's arm.
+
+"There is justice in the world after all," I said hoarsely. "That man
+will kill him."
+
+Then we went out together without another word.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LV.
+                        THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.
+
+
+It was twenty minutes to eight when we arrived at Mellborough, and, as we
+had not sent word on, there was no carriage to meet us, nor, as it
+happened, any spare vehicle. After a brief word or two with the
+stationmaster, we decided to walk down into the town and order a fly.
+
+When we reached the house, the butler stepped forward, his ruddy face
+blanched and his voice shaking.
+
+"Thank God you are come, sir! The man you left here, he's gone a raving
+lunatic, and he's shut himself up there, and got your revolvers out, and
+swears that no one shall enter the room till you come."
+
+"There's someone with him," my father said quickly.
+
+The man's face seemed literally shrunken up with horror.
+
+"It's awful, sir; I've been near once, and I'll never get over it as long
+as I live. He's got some poor wretch there, killing him by inches,
+torturing him like a cat does a mouse. He's been shrieking for help for
+hours, and we can do nothing. The poor creature must be nearly dead now.
+Ah, there it is again, sir! Four of our men have been shot trying to get
+to him. Listen! Oh, why does he not die!"
+
+A low, faint cry, full of a most heart-stirring anguish, floated out from
+the library window. It was the most awful sound I have ever heard in my
+life. Following close upon it, drowning its faint echo, came the loud
+mocking laugh of the torturer, ringing out harsh and mirthless in hideous
+contrast.
+
+A deep, audible shudder passed through the little group of bystanders.
+Then my father, without a word, started forward across the lawn towards
+the window and I followed close behind. It seemed to me that everyone
+must be holding their breath, the silence was so intense. The wind had
+dropped for a moment, and the moon shone faintly down through a cloud of
+mist upon the white, eager faces, filled now with a new anxiety.
+
+A few swift steps brought us to the window. A lamp was burning upon the
+writing-table and the interior of the room was clearly visible. On the
+floor a little distance from the window was a dark shape which, as we
+drew nearer, we could see to be the prostrate figure of a man. Walking up
+and down in front of it, with short, uneven steps, was Francis, his hair
+and dress in wild disorder and his whole appearance betokening that he
+had recently been engaged in a desperate struggle.
+
+Suddenly he turned round and saw us. With a wild cry of rage he rushed to
+the window, the glass of which was completely wrecked, and glared at us
+threateningly through the framework.
+
+"Away! away!" he shrieked, "or there will be more trouble! I must stay
+here, I must wait till he comes! Let me be, I tell you!"
+
+The revolver, which he clenched in his right hand, was raised and
+levelled. It was a dreadful moment.
+
+"It is I, Mr. Ravenor," my father answered calmly. "Don't you know me,
+Francis?"
+
+Again the moon broke through the clouds and shone with a faint light upon
+my father's pale, stern face. Francis recognised him at once. He threw
+his hands high over his head in a wild gesture of welcome and flung open
+the window. My father walked steadily forward into the room and I
+followed him. Francis, trembling with eagerness, stood between us.
+
+"See," he cried, pointing downwards, "is it not well done? See! Let me
+tell you about it. Quick! quick! He came! It was twilight! He was at the
+cabinet there. I stole out of the darkness. I flung my arms around him.
+He struggled. Ah, how he struggled; but it was all no use. Ha! ha! ha! I
+was too strong for him. I held him tighter and tighter, till I nearly
+strangled him, and he gasped and gurgled and moaned. Oh! it was fine to
+see him. Then I found a cord in the drawer there and I bound him, and
+while I fastened the knots I laughed and I talked to him. I talked about
+that night in the storm when he threw his father"--he pointed a long,
+quivering finger at me--"threw him into the slate quarry, and about that
+day when he came to the Castle gate and brought me to the plantation, and
+suddenly caught me by the throat till he thought he had strangled me, and
+beat me on the head. Ah, how my head has burned ever since, ever since,
+ever since! Ah, Milly, come to me! Milly, I am on fire! My head is on
+fire! Ah, ah!"
+
+The foam burst out from between his pallid, quivering lips, and his eyes,
+red and burning, suddenly closed. A ghastly change crept over his
+blood-stained, pallid face. He sank backwards and fell heavily upon the
+floor.
+
+We scarcely noticed him, for our eyes were bent elsewhere. The horror of
+that sight lived with me afterwards for many years, a haunting shadow
+over my life--disturbing even its sweetest moments, a hideous, maddening
+memory. I am not going to attempt to describe it. No words could express
+the horror of it. Such things are not to be written about.
+
+Even my father's iron nerve seemed to give way for a moment, and he stood
+by my side trembling, with his head buried in his hands. Then he sank on
+his knees and loosened the cords.
+
+"Thank God he is dead," he murmured fervently, as he felt the cold body
+and lifeless pulse, and cleared away the last fragments of disguise from
+the head and face. "You had better call Mr. Carrol in, Philip."
+
+Even as he spoke, a little awed group was silently filling the room,
+Carrol and his sergeant amongst them. But after all they were cheated of
+their task, for out in the moonlight John Francis lay stark, the madness
+gone from his white, still face, and the calm of death reigning there
+instead.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LVI.
+                             THE END OF IT.
+
+
+We were together, my father and I, under the shade of a little cluster of
+olive trees high up among the mountains. Far away below us the Campagna
+stretched to the foot of the dim hills steeped in blue which surround the
+Eternal City, towards which we had been gazing in a silence which had
+been for long unbroken. It was I at last who spoke, pointing downwards to
+where the bare grey stone walls of a small monastic building rose with
+almost startling abruptness from a narrow ledge of sward overhanging the
+precipice.
+
+"Is this to be the end, then, father?" I cried bitterly; "this
+prison-house?"
+
+He turned towards me with a look upon his face which I had grown to
+hate--a look calm and gentle enough, but full of resolution as unchanging
+as the mountains which towered above us.
+
+"It must be so, Philip," he said, quietly. "Is it well, think you, that I
+should return again into the life which I am weary of, when all that I
+desire lies here ready to my hand? Peace and rest--I want nothing more."
+
+"And why cannot you find them in England--at Ravenor with me?" I cried
+eagerly. "And your work, too--it could be done again. We would live alone
+there and bury ourselves from the world and everyone in it. I could help
+you. I could be your amanuensis. I should like that better than anything.
+Remember how all the papers lamented the cruel destruction of your
+manuscripts, and how everyone hoped that you would rewrite them. Oh, you
+must not do this thing, father--you must not! You have no right to cut
+yourself off from the world--no right!" I re-echoed passionately.
+
+He shook his head slowly, but alas! with no sign of yielding.
+
+"Philip," he said quietly, "it troubles me to hear you plead like this in
+vain, for so it must ever be. I am happy now; happy in the recollection
+of the time we have spent together. Happy, too, in the thought that I can
+end my days in peace, with no disturbing ghosts of the past to rise up
+and haunt me!"
+
+I was silent and kept my face turned away towards the mountains, for I
+would not have had him see my weakness. Soon he spoke again, and this
+time there was a vein of sadness in his tone.
+
+"The time has come for us to part for awhile, Philip. There is one thing
+more which I would say to you. It concerns Cecil."
+
+"Cecil?" I echoed vaguely.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All his life he has been brought up to consider himself my heir. Now, of
+course, things will be very different with him. He is weak and easily
+led. I should like to think that you were friends; and if you have an
+opportunity of helping him in any way you will not neglect it."
+
+"I will not," I promised. "Cecil and I will always be friends."
+
+We descended the steep hillside path and stood together almost on the
+threshold of the little monastery. Then my father held out his hand to
+me, and a soft, sweet light shone for a moment in his dark blue eyes.
+
+"Farewell, Philip," he said--"farewell. God bless you." And while I was
+returning the grasp of his closed fingers and struggling to keep down a
+rising lump in my throat, he passed away from me silently, like a figure
+in a dream, and the thick, nail-studded door opened and was closed behind
+him.
+
+Then I set my face towards Rome, with blurred eyesight and a bitter sense
+of loss at my heart. I was going back to England to take possession of a
+great inheritance, but there was no joy in the thought, only an
+unutterable, intolerable loneliness which weighed down my heart and
+spirits and filled me with deep depression.
+
+Cecil met me in London, and we went to Ravenor together. It was a strange
+sensation to me to enter the Castle as its virtual owner, to wander from
+room to room, from gallery to gallery, and know that it was all mine, and
+that the long line of Ravenors who frowned and smiled upon me from their
+dark, worm-eaten frames were my ancestors. At first it seemed
+pleasant--pleasant, at least, in a measure,--but when I stood in the
+library and passed on into that little chamber the memories connected
+with them swept in upon me with such irresistible force that I was glad
+to send Cecil away for a while.
+
+For some time I lived quite alone, save for Cecil's frequent visits,
+keeping aloof from the people who lived near, and making but few
+acquaintances. The days I spent either on horseback or with my gun, or
+often tramping many miles over the open country with a book in my pocket,
+after the fashion of the days of my boyhood. The nights I had no
+difficulty about whatever. With such a library as my father's to help me,
+my love of reading became almost a part of myself.
+
+There was one person who viewed this change with profound
+dissatisfaction, and who at last broke into open protest.
+
+"I say, Phil, you know it won't do," Cecil declared one night, when I had
+tried to steal away into the library on some pretext. "A young fellow of
+your age, with eighty thousand a year, has no business to shut himself up
+with a lot of musty books and dream away his time like an old hermit.
+People are asking about you everywhere, and I'm getting tired of
+explaining what a rum sort of chap you are. It won't do, really."
+
+"Well," I answered, "what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to come back to town with me and put up with my people a bit.
+The mater is very keen about it; in fact, she says that she shall come
+down here in the autumn if you don't come."
+
+I leaned back in my chair and a day-dream rose up before me.
+
+"What is your sister like now, Cis?" I asked suddenly.
+
+"Trixie! Oh, she's turned out pretty well, I think!" he answered
+complacently. "What friends you two used to be, by the by!"
+
+We said no more about the matter then, but on the following morning I
+received two letters, one from Lady Silchester and the other from Lord
+Langerdale, both urging me to pay at least a short visit to London and
+perform social duties, which naturally seemed of more importance to them
+than to me. I read them through carefully and made up my mind at once.
+But Lord Langerdale's letter had stirred up some old memories, and I did
+not tell Cecil my decision immediately.
+
+"You are about town a good deal, Cecil. Do you ever see anything of
+Leonard de Cartienne?" I asked.
+
+Cecil shook his head.
+
+"No, nor am I ever likely to," he answered. "I have heard of him, though,
+by a strange fluke."
+
+"What is he doing?"
+
+"Got a commission in the Turkish army. Queer thing I heard the other day
+from a man I used to know very well once. He's secretary at the Embassy
+now at Constantinople, and he asked me whether I ever came across him.
+Seems he isn't particularly popular out there."
+
+"He's a bad lot," I remarked.
+
+"Jolly sure of it," Cecil assented. "No one but a blackguard would have
+behaved as he did to poor little Milly. But about London, Phil?"
+
+"I will go," I said. "If you like we will leave here to-morrow."
+
+Lady Silchester received us very kindly, and Beatrice, though full of the
+distractions of her first season, seemed even better pleased to see us.
+It was strange how much I found in the tall slim girl, whom everyone was
+quoting as the beauty of the season, to remind me of the quaint,
+old-fashioned child whose imperious manner and naive talk had so charmed
+me a few years ago. There were the same wealth of ruddy golden hair, the
+same delicate features, and the same dainty little mannerisms. Everyone
+admired Lady Beatrice, and so did I.
+
+My stay in London lasted till the end of the season. I made my orthodox
+_debut_ into Society under the wing of Lord Langerdale, and divided my
+time pretty well between my aunt and uncle and the house in Cadogan
+Square. When at last it was all over, Lord and Lady Langerdale, Lady
+Silchester, Cecil, and Beatrice returned to Ravenor as my guests.
+
+I am not writing a love story. I cannot trace the growth of my love for
+Beatrice, for it seemed to come upon me with a rush; and yet, when I
+wondered how it came, it seemed to me that it must have been always so.
+Those long summer days at Ravenor were the sweetest I had ever known. I
+lost all count of time. Hours and days and weeks seemed all blended in an
+exquisite dream, from which, unlike all others, the awakening was at once
+the culmination and the happiest part. For one night we came back hand in
+hand from wandering about on the terraces under a starlit sky, and a
+great joy was gliding through my veins and throbbing in my heart.
+
+Need I say what had happened? Beatrice was mine, my own, and I was very
+happy.
+
+"Come to me when you are married--both of you," was my father's message;
+and we went, Alas, for the cloud which so soon dimmed our newborn
+happiness! We arrived in time--only just in time--to stand by his
+death-bed.
+
+How the scene comes back to me! The door and windows of his little
+chamber were thrown wide open and the soft, languorous breeze, heavy with
+the odour of wild flowers, stole in and played upon his wasted face.
+
+What a countenance it was! Passion-scarred, yet chastened and softened by
+keen physical pain; the burning blue eyes fixed steadily, yet with a
+sweet, steadfast light, upon the dim horizon--beautiful after the highest
+type of spiritual beauty. Twilight stole down from the hills, and then we
+gently folded his arms upon his breast, and the watchers outside, knowing
+well what such an action meant, wiped the tears from their eyes and
+slowly wended their way homewards.
+
+Then, later, the solemn chant of the monks in pious procession broke the
+stillness of the mountain night. But such a death was scarcely death. At
+least, it was death robbed of all its terrors; unutterably sad, yet
+unutterably sweet. There was truth beyond expression in the simple words
+rudely carved upon the wooden cross which, amid a score or two of others
+in a sheltered nook down in the valley, stands at the foot of his narrow
+grave--
+
+                    "He Sought Peace, and Found It."
+
+So may it be with us!
+
+
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+
+Obvious typographical errors in spelling and punctuation were
+corrected without comment.
+
+Capitalization of the name "de Cartienne" was made consistent.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. MARX'S SECRET***
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