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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Slave Of The Lamp
+
+Author: Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9195]
+This file was first posted on September 14, 2003
+Last Updated: March 12, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Véronique Durand, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP
+
+By Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, “Young Mistley,” in
+1888, when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his
+critique on the book, spoke of its “powerful situations” and
+unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater
+length on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right
+faults, and added that, if “Young Mistley” was not in itself a good
+novel, its author was one who might hereafter certainly write good
+novels.
+
+“Young Mistley” was followed in quick succession by “The Phantom
+Future,” “Suspense,” and “Prisoners and Captives.” Some years later,
+considering them crude and immature works, the author, at some
+difficulty and with no little pecuniary loss, withdrew all these four
+first books from circulation in England. Their republication in America
+he was powerless to prevent. He therefore revised and abbreviated them,
+“conscious,” as he said himself in a preface, “of a hundred defects
+which the most careful revision cannot eliminate.” He was perhaps then,
+as he was ever, too severe a critic of his own works. But though these
+four early books have, added to youthful failings, the youthful merits
+of freshness, vigour and imagination, their author was undoubtedly right
+to suppress them. By writing them he learnt, it is true, the technique
+of his art: but no author wishes--or no author should wish--to give his
+copy-books to the world. It is as well then--it is certainly as he
+himself desired--that these four books do not form part of the present
+edition. It may, however, be noted that both “Young Mistley” and
+“Prisoners and Captives” dealt, as did “The Sowers” hereafter, with
+Russian subjects: “Suspense” is the story of a war-correspondent in the
+Russo-Turkish War of 1877: and “The Phantom Future” is the only novel of
+Merriman's in which the scene is laid entirely in his own country.
+
+In 1892 he produced “The Slave of the Lamp,” which had run serially
+through the _Cornhill Magazine_, then under the editorship of Mr.
+James Payn.
+
+To Mr. Payn, Merriman always felt that he owed a debt of gratitude for
+much shrewd and kindly advice and encouragement. But one item of that
+advice he neglected with, as Mr. Payn always generously owned, great
+advantage. Mr. Payn believed that the insular nature of the ordinary
+Briton made it, as a general rule, highly undesirable that the scene of
+any novel should be laid outside the British Isles.
+
+After 1892 all Merriman's books, with the single exception of “Flotsam,”
+ which appeared serially in _Longman's Magazine_, and was, at first,
+produced in book form by Messrs. Longman, were published by the firm of
+Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co.
+
+His long and serene connection with the great and honourable house which
+had produced the works of such masters of literature as Thackeray,
+Charlotte Bronte, and Robert Browning, was always a source of sincere
+pleasure to him. He often expressed the opinion that, from the moment
+when, as an inexperienced and perfectly unknown author, he sent “Young
+Mistley” to Messrs. Bentley, until the time when, as a very successful
+one, he was publishing his later novels with Messrs. Smith, Elder, he
+had invariably received from his publishers an entirely just and upright
+treatment.
+
+Also in 1892 he produced “From One Generation to Another”: and, two
+years later, the first of his really successful novels, “With Edged
+Tools.” It is the only one of his books of which he never visited the
+_mise-en-scène_--West Africa: but he had so completely imbued
+himself with the scenery and the spirit of the country that few, if any,
+of his critics detected that he did not write of it from personal
+experience. Many of his readers were firmly convinced of the reality of
+the precious plant, Simiacine, on whose discovery the action of the plot
+turns. More than one correspondent wrote to express a wish to take
+shares in the Simiacine Company!
+
+“With Edged Tools” was closely followed by “The Grey Lady.” Some
+practical experience of a seafaring life, a strong love of it, and a
+great fellow-feeling for all those whose business is in great waters,
+helped the reality of the characters of the sailor brothers and of the
+sea-scenes generally. The author was for some years, and at the time
+“The Grey Lady” was written, an underwriter at Lloyd's, so that on the
+subject of ship insurance--a subject on which it will be remembered
+part of the plot hinges--he was _en pays de connaissance_. For the
+purpose of this story, he travelled in the Balearic Islands, having,
+earlier, made the first of many visits to Spain.
+
+One of the strongest characteristics in his nature, as it is certainly
+one of the strongest characteristics in his books, was his sympathy
+with, and, in consequence, his understanding of, the mind of the
+foreigner. For him, indeed, there were no alien countries. He learnt the
+character of the stranger as quickly as he learnt his language. His
+greatest delight was to merge himself completely in the life and
+interests of the country he was visiting--to stay at the mean
+_venta_, or the _auberge_ where the tourist was never seen--to
+sit in the local cafés of an evening and listen to local politics and
+gossip; to read for the time nothing but the native newspapers, and no
+literature but the literature, past and present, of the land where he
+was sojourning; to follow the native customs, and to see Spain, Poland
+or Russia with the eyes and from the point of view of the Spaniard, the
+Pole or the Russian.
+
+The difficulties--sometimes there were even serious difficulties--of
+visiting places where there was neither provision nor protection made
+for the stranger, always acted upon him not as deterrent but incentive:
+he liked something to overcome, and found the safe, comfortable,
+convenient resting-places as uncongenial to his nature as they were
+unproductive for the purposes of his work.
+
+In 1896 “The Sowers” was published. Merriman's travels in Russia had
+taken place some years before--before, in fact, the publication of
+“Young Mistley”--but time had not at all weakened the strong and sombre
+impression which that great country and its unhappy people had left upon
+him. The most popular of all his books with his English public, Merriman
+himself did not consider it his best. It early received the compliment
+of being banned by the Russian censor: very recently, a Russian woman
+told the present writers that “The Sowers” is still the first book the
+travelling Russian buys in the Tauchnitz edition, as soon as he is out
+of his own country--“we like to hear the truth about ourselves.”
+
+In the same year as “The Sowers,” Merriman produced “Flotsam.” It is
+not, strictly speaking, a romance: some of its main incidents were taken
+from the life of a young officer of the 44th Regiment in Early Victorian
+days. The character of Harry Wylam is, as a whole, faithful to its
+prototype; and the last scene in the book, recording Harry's death in
+the Orange Free State, as he was being taken in a waggon to the
+missionary station by the Bishop of the State, is literally accurate.
+Merriman had visited India as a boy; so here, too, the scenery is from
+the brush of an eye-witness.
+
+His next novel, “In Kedar's Tents,” was his first Spanish novel--pure
+and simple: the action of “The Grey Lady” taking place chiefly in
+Majorca.
+
+All the country mentioned in “In Kedar's Tents” Merriman visited
+personally--riding, as did Frederick Conyngham and Concepcion Vara, from
+Algeciras to Ronda, then a difficult ride through a wild, beautiful and
+not too safe district, the accommodation at Algeciras and Ronda being at
+that time of an entirely primitive description. Spain had for Merriman
+ever a peculiar attraction: the character of the Spanish
+gentleman--proud, courteous, dignified--particularly appealed to him.
+
+The next country in which he sought inspiration was Holland. “Roden's
+Corner,” published in 1898, broke new ground: its plot, it will be
+remembered, turns on a commercial enterprise. The title and the main
+idea of the story were taken from Merriman's earliest literary venture,
+the beginning of a novel--there were only a few chapters of it--which
+he had written before “Young Mistley,” and which he had discarded,
+dissatisfied.
+
+The novel “Dross” was produced in America in 1899, having appeared
+serially in this country in a well-known newspaper. Written during a
+period of ill-health, Merriman thought it beneath his best work, and,
+true to that principle which ruled his life as an author, to give to the
+public so far as he could of that best, and of that best only, he
+declined (of course to his own monetary disadvantage) to permit its
+publication in England in book form.
+
+Its _mise-en-scène_ is France and Suffolk; its period the Second
+Empire--the period of “The Last Hope.” Napoleon III., a character by
+whom Merriman was always peculiarly attracted, shadows it: in it appears
+John Turner, the English banker of Paris, of “The Last Hope”; an
+admirable and amusing sketch of a young Frenchman; and an excellent
+description of the magnificent scenery about Saint Martin Lantosque, in
+the Maritime Alps.
+
+For the benefit of “The Isle of Unrest,” his next book, Merriman had
+travelled through Corsica--not the Corsica of fashionable hotels and
+health-resorts, but the wild and unknown parts of that lawless and
+magnificent island. For “The Velvet Glove” he visited Pampeluna,
+Saragossa, and Lerida. The country of “The Vultures”--Warsaw and its
+neighbourhood--he saw in company with his friend, Mr. Stanley Weyman.
+The pleasure of another trip, the one he took in western
+France--Angoulême, Cognac, and the country of the Charente--for the
+scenery of “The Last Hope,” was also doubled by Mr. Weyman's presence.
+In Dantzig--the Dantzig of “Barlasch of the Guard”--Merriman made a stay
+in a bitter mid-winter, visiting also Vilna and Königsberg; part of the
+route of the Great Retreat from Moscow he traced himself. He was
+inclined to consider--and if an author is not quite the worst judge of
+his own work he is generally quite the best--that in “Barlasch” he
+reached his high-water mark. The short stories, comprised in the volume
+entitled “Tomaso's Fortune,” were published after his death. In every
+case, the _locale_ they describe was known to Merriman personally.
+At the Monastery of Montserrat--whence the monk in “A Small World” saw
+the accident to the diligencia--the author had made a stay of some days.
+The Farlingford of “The Last Hope” is Orford in Suffolk: the French
+scenes, as has been said, Merriman had visited with Mr. Weyman, whose
+“Abbess of Vlaye” they also suggested. The curious may still find the
+original of the Hôtel Gemosac in Paris--not far from the Palais d'Orsay
+Hôtel--“between the Rue de Lille and the Boulevard St. Germain.”
+
+“The Last Hope” was not, in a sense, Merriman's last novel. He left at
+his death about a dozen completed chapters, and the whole plot carefully
+mapped out, of yet another Spanish book, which dealt with the Spain of
+the Peninsular War of 1808-14. These chapters, which were destroyed by
+the author's desire, were of excellent promise, and written with great
+vigour and spirit. His last trip was taken, in connection with this
+book, to the country of Sir Arthur Wellesley's exploits. The plot of the
+story was concerned with a case of mistaken identity; the sketch of a
+Guerilla leader, Pedro--bearing some affinity to the Concepcion Vara of
+“In Kedar's Tents”--was especially happy.
+
+It has been seen that Merriman was not the class of author who “sits in
+Fleet Street and writes news from the front.” He strongly believed in
+the value of personal impressions, and scarcely less in the value of
+first impressions. In his own case, the correctness of his first
+impressions--what he himself called laughingly his _“coup
+d'oeil”_--is in a measure proved by a note-book, now lying before the
+writers, in which he recorded his views of Bastia and the Corsicans
+after a very brief acquaintance--that view requiring scarcely any
+modification when first impressions had been exchanged for real
+knowledge and experience.
+
+As to his methods of writing, in the case of all his novels, except the
+four early suppressed ones, he invariably followed the plan of drawing
+out the whole plot and a complete synopsis of every chapter before he
+began to write the book at all.
+
+Partly as a result of this plan perhaps, but more as a result of great
+natural facility in writing, his manuscripts were often without a single
+erasure for many pages; and a typewriter was really a superfluity.
+
+It is certainly true to say that no author ever had more pleasure in his
+art than Merriman. The fever and the worry which accompany many literary
+productions he never knew.
+
+Among the professional critics he had neither personal friends nor
+personal foes; and accepted their criticisms--hostile or
+favourable--with perfect serenity and open-mindedness. He was, perhaps,
+if anything, only too ready to alter his work in accordance with their
+advice: he always said that he owed them much; and admired their
+perspicuity in detecting a promise in his earliest books, which he
+denied finding there himself. His invincible modesty made him ready to
+accept not only professional criticism but--a harder thing--the advice
+of critics on the hearth. It was out of compliance with such a domestic
+criticism that the _dénouement_ in “The Sowers” was re-written as
+it now stands, the scene of the attack on the Castle being at first
+wholly different.
+
+The jealousy and bitterness which are supposed to be inseparable from
+the literary life certainly never affected Merriman's. He had no trace
+of such feelings in his nature. Of one who is known to the public
+exclusively through his writings, it may seem strange--but it is not the
+less true--to say that his natural bent was not to the life of a
+literary man, but to a life of action, and that it was fate, rather than
+inclination, which made him express himself in words instead of deeds. A
+writer's books are generally his best biography: the “strong, quiet
+man,” whose forte was to do much and say nothing; who, like Marcos
+Sarrion, loved the free and plain life of the field and the open, was a
+natural hero for Merriman, “as finding there unconsciously some image of
+himself.”
+
+To any other biography he was strongly opposed. His dislike of the
+advertisement and the self-advertisement of the interview and the
+personal paragraph deepened with time. He held strongly and
+consistently, as he held all his opinions, that a writer should be known
+to the public by his books, and by his books only. One of his last
+expressed wishes was that there should be no record of his private life.
+
+It is respect for that wish which here stays the present writers' pen.
+
+E.F.S.
+
+S.G.T.
+
+_July_ 1909.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+CHAPTERS
+
+     I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+    II. TOOLS
+   III. WITHOUT REST
+    IV. BURDENED
+     V. A REUNION
+    VI. BROKEN THREADS
+   VII. PUPPETS
+  VIII. FALSE METAL
+    IX. A CLUE
+     X. ON THE SCENT
+    XI. BURY BLUFF
+   XII. A WARNING WORD
+  XIII. A NIGHT WATCH
+   XIV. FOILED
+    XV. ROOKS
+   XVI. FOES
+  XVII. A RETREAT
+ XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST
+   XIX. FOUL PLAY
+    XX. WINGED
+   XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+  XXII. GREEK AND GREEK
+ XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN
+  XXIV. BACK TO LIFE
+   XXV. BACK TO WORK
+  XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO
+ XXVII. IN THE RUE ST GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+
+
+It was, not so many years ago, called the Rue de l'Empire, but
+republics are proverbially sensitive. Once they are established they
+become morbidly desirous of obliterating a past wherein no republic
+flourished. The street is therefore dedicated to St. Gingolphe to-day.
+To-morrow? Who can tell?
+
+It is presumably safe to take it for granted that you are located in the
+neighbourhood of the Louvre, on the north side of the river which is so
+unimportant a factor to Paris. For all good Englishmen have been, or
+hope in the near future to be, located near this spot. All good
+Americans, we are told, relegate the sojourn to a more distant future.
+
+The bridge to cross is that of the Holy Fathers. So called to-day. Once
+upon a time--but no matter. Bridges are peculiarly liable to change in
+troubled times. The Rue St. Gingolphe is situated between the Boulevard
+St. Germain and Quai Voltaire. One hears with equal facility the
+low-toned boom of the steamers' whistle upon the river, and the crack of
+whips in the boulevard. Once across the bridge, turn to the right, and
+go along the Quay, between the lime-trees and the bookstalls. You will
+probably go slowly because of the bookstalls. No one worth talking to
+could help doing so. Then turn to the left, and after a few paces you
+will find upon your right hand the Rue St. Gingolphe. It is noted in the
+Directory “Botot” that this street is one hundred and forty-five mètres
+long; and who would care to contradict “Botot,” or even to throw the
+faintest shadow of a doubt upon his statement? He has probably measured.
+
+If your fair and economical spouse should think of repairing to the
+Bon-Marché to secure some of those wonderful linen pillow-cases (at one
+franc forty) with your august initial embroidered on the centre with a
+view of impressing the sleeper's cheek, she will pass the end of the Rue
+St. Gingolphe on her way--provided the cabman be honest. There! You
+cannot help finding it now.
+
+The street itself is a typical Parisian street of one hundred and
+forty-five mètres. There is room for a baker's, a café, a bootmaker's,
+and a tobacconist who sells very few stamps. The Parisians do not write
+many letters. They say they have not time. But the tobacconist makes up
+for the meanness of his contribution to the inland revenue of one
+department by a generous aid to the other. He sells a vast number of
+cigarettes and cigars of the very worst quality. And it is upon the
+worst quality that the Government makes the largest profit. It is in
+every sense of the word a weed which grows as lustily as any of its
+compeers in and around Oran, Algiers, and Bonah.
+
+The Rue St. Gingolphe is within a stone's-throw of the École des
+Beaux-Arts, and in the very centre of a remarkably cheap and yet
+respectable quarter. Thus there are many young men occupying apartments
+in close proximity--and young men do not mind much what they smoke,
+especially provincial young men living in Paris. They feel it incumbent
+upon them to be constantly smoking something--just to show that they are
+Parisians, true sons of the pavement, knowing how to live. And their
+brightest hopes are in all truth realised, because theirs is certainly a
+reckless life, flavoured as it is with “number one” tobacco, and those
+“little corporal” cigarettes which are enveloped in the blue paper.
+
+The tobacconist's shop is singularly convenient. It has, namely, an
+entrance at the back, as well as that giving on to the street of St.
+Gingolphe. This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the
+stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perinère, a lady who
+paints the magic word “Modes” beneath her name on the door-post of
+number seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her
+bonnets to the farthest corner of Paris.
+
+The tobacconist is a large man, much given to perspiration. In fact, one
+may safely make the statement that he perspires annually from the middle
+of April to the second or even third week in October. In consequence of
+this habit he wears no collar, and a man without a collar does not start
+fairly on the social race. It is always best to make inquiries before
+condemning a man who wears no collar. There is probably a very good
+reason, as in the case of Mr. Jacquetot, but it is to be feared that few
+pause to seek it. One need not seek the reason with much assiduity in
+this instance, because the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe is
+always prepared to explain it at length. French people are thus. They
+talk of things, and take pleasure in so doing, which we, on this side of
+the Channel, treat with a larger discretion.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot does not even wear a collar on Sunday, for the simple
+reason that Sunday is to him as other days. He attends no place of
+worship, because he acknowledges but one god--the god of most
+Frenchmen--his inner man. His pleasures are gastronomical, his sorrows
+stomachic. The little shop is open early and late, Sundays, week-days,
+and holidays. Moreover, the tobacconist--Mr. Jacquetot himself--is
+always at his post, on the high chair behind the counter, near the
+window, where he can see into the street. This constant attention to
+business is almost phenomenal, because Frenchmen who worship the god of
+Mr. Jacquetot love to pay tribute on fête-days at one of the little
+restaurants on the Place at Versailles, at Duval's, or even in the
+Palais Royal. Mr. Jacquetot would have loved nothing better than a
+pilgrimage to any one of these shrines, but he was tied to the little
+tobacco store. Not by the chains of commerce. Oh, no! When rallied by
+his neighbours for such an unenterprising love of his own hearth, he
+merely shrugged his heavy shoulders.
+
+“What will you?” he would say; “one has one's affairs.”
+
+Now the affairs of Mr. Jacquetot were, in the days with which we have to
+do, like many things on this earth, inasmuch as they were not what they
+seemed.
+
+It would be inexpedient, for reasons closely connected with the
+tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, as well as with other gentlemen
+still happily with us in the flesh, to be too exact as to dates. Suffice
+it, therefore, to say that it was only a few years ago that Mr.
+Jacquetot sat one evening as usual in his little shop. It happened to be
+a Tuesday evening, which is fortunate, because it was on Tuesdays and
+Saturdays that the little barber from round the corner called and shaved
+the vast cheeks of the tobacconist. Mr. Jacquetot was therefore quite
+presentable--doubly so, indeed, because it was yet March, and he had not
+yet entered upon his summer season.
+
+The little street was very quiet. There was no through traffic, and
+folks living in this quarter of Paris usually carry their own parcels.
+It was thus quite easy to note the approach of any passenger, when such
+had once turned the corner. Some one was approaching now, and Mr.
+Jacquetot threw away the stump of a cheap cigar. One would almost have
+said that he recognised the step at a considerable distance. Young
+people are in the habit of considering that when one gets old and stout
+one loses in intelligence; but this is not always the case. One is apt
+to expect little from a fat man; but that is often a mistake. Mr.
+Jacquetot weighed seventeen stone, but he was eminently intelligent. He
+had recognised the footstep while it was yet seventy mètres away.
+
+In a few moments a gentleman of middle height paused in front of the
+shop, noted that it was a tobacconist's, and entered, carrying an
+unstamped letter with some ostentation. It must, by the way, be
+remembered that in France postage-stamps are to be bought at all
+tobacconists'.
+
+The new-comer's actions were characterised by a certain carelessness, as
+if he were going through a formula--perfunctorily--without admitting its
+necessity.
+
+He nodded to Mr. Jacquetot, and rather a pleasant smile flickered for a
+moment across his face. He was a singularly well-made man, of medium
+height, with straight, square shoulders and small limbs. He wore
+spectacles, and as he looked at one straight in the face there was a
+singular contraction of the eyes which hardly amounted to a
+cast--moreover, it was momentary. It was precisely the look of a hawk
+when its hood is suddenly removed in full daylight. This resemblance was
+furthered by the fact that the man's profile was birdlike. He was
+clean-shaven, and there was in his sleek head and determined little face
+that smooth, compact self-complacency which is to be noted in the head
+of a hawk.
+
+The face was small, like that of a Greek bust, but in expression it
+suggested a yet older people. There was that mystic depth of expression
+which comes from ancient Egypt. No one feature was obtrusive--all were
+chiselled with equal delicacy; and yet there was only one point of real
+beauty in the entire countenance. The mouth was perfect. But the man
+with a perfect mouth is usually one whom it will be found expedient to
+avoid. Without a certain allowance of sensuality no man is
+genial--without a little weakness there is no kind heart. This
+Frenchman's mouth was not, however, obtrusively faultless. It was
+perfect in its design, but, somehow, many people failed to take note of
+the fact. It is so with the “many,” one finds. The human world is so
+blind that at times it would be almost excusable to harbour the
+suspicion that animals see more. There may be something in that instinct
+by which dogs, horses, and cats distinguish between friends and foes,
+detect sympathy, discover antipathy. It is possible that they see things
+in the human face to which our eyes are blinded--intentionally and
+mercifully blinded. If some of us were a little more observant, a few of
+the human combinations which we bring about might perhaps be less
+egregiously mistaken.
+
+It was probably the form of the lips that lent pleasantness to the smile
+with which Mr. Jacquetot was greeted, rather than the expression of the
+velvety eyes, which had in reality no power of smiling at all. They were
+sad eyes, like those of the women one sees on the banks of the Upper
+Nile, which never alter in expression--eyes that do not seem to be busy
+with this life at all, but fully occupied with something else: something
+beyond to-morrow or behind yesterday.
+
+“Not yet arrived?” inquired the new-comer in a voice of some
+distinction. It was a full, rich voice, and the French it spoke was not
+the French of Mr. Jacquetot, nor, indeed, of the Rue St. Gingolphe. It
+was the language one sometimes hears in an old _château_ lost in
+the depths of the country--the vast unexplored rural districts of
+France--where the bearers of dangerously historical names live out their
+lives with a singular suppression and patience. They are either biding
+their time or else they are content with the past and the part played by
+their ancestors therein. For there is an old French and a new. In Paris
+the new is spoken--the very newest. Were it anything but French it would
+be intolerably vulgar; as it is, it is merely neat and intensely
+expressive.
+
+“Not yet arrived, sir,” said the tobacconist, and then he seemed to
+recollect himself, for he repeated:
+
+“Not yet arrived,” without the respectful addition which had slipped out
+by accident.
+
+The new arrival took out his watch--a small one of beautiful
+workmanship, the watch of a lady--and consulted it. His movements were
+compact and rapid. He would have made a splendid light-weight boxer.
+
+“That,” he said shortly, “is the way they fail. They do not understand
+the necessity of exactitude. The people--see you, Mr. Jacquetot, they
+fail because they have no exactitude.”
+
+“But I am of the people,” moving ponderously on his chair.
+
+“Essentially so. I know it, my friend. But I have taught you something.”
+
+The tobacconist laughed.
+
+“I suppose so. But is it safe to stand there in the full day? Will you
+not pass in? The room is ready; the lamp is lighted. There is an agent
+of the police always at the end of the street now.”
+
+“Ah, bah!” and he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. “I am not
+afraid of them. There is only one thing to be feared, Citizen
+Jacquetot--the press. The press and the people, _bien entendu_.”
+
+“If you despise the people why do you use them?” asked Jacquetot
+abruptly.
+
+“In default of better, my friend. If one has not steam one uses the
+river to turn the mill-wheel. The river is slow; sometimes it is too
+weak, sometimes too strong. One never has full control over it, but it
+turns the wheel--it turns the wheel, brother Jacquetot.”
+
+“And eventually sweeps away the miller,” suggested the tobacconist
+lightly. It must be remembered that though stout he was intelligent. Had
+he not been so it is probable that this conversation would never have
+taken place. The dark-eyed man did not look like one who would have the
+patience to deal with stupid people.
+
+Again the pleasant smile flickered like the light of a fire in a dark
+place.
+
+“That,” was the reply, “is the affair of the miller.”
+
+“But,” conceded Jacquetot, meditatively selecting a new cigar from a box
+which he had reached without moving from his chair, “but the
+people--they are fools, hein!”
+
+“Ah!” with a protesting shrug, as if deprecating the enunciation of such
+a platitude.
+
+Then he passed through into a little room behind the shop--a little room
+where no daylight penetrated, because there was no window to it. It
+depended for daylight upon the shop, with which it communicated by a
+door of which the upper half was glass. But this glass was thickly
+curtained with the material called Turkey-red, threefold.
+
+And the tobacconist was left alone in his shop, smoking gravely. There
+are some people like oysters, inasmuch as they leave an after-taste
+behind them. The man who had just gone into the little room at the rear
+of the tobacconist's shop of the Rue St. Gingolphe in Paris was one of
+these. And the taste he left behind him was rather disquieting. One was
+apt to feel that there was a mistake somewhere in the ordering of human
+affairs, and that this man was one of its victims.
+
+In a few minutes two men passed hastily through the shop into the little
+room, with scarcely so much as a nod for Mr. Jacquetot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+TOOLS
+
+
+The first man to enter the room was clad in a blouse of coarse grey
+cloth which reached down to his knees. On his head he wore a black silk
+cap, very much pressed down and exceedingly greasy on the right side.
+This was to be accounted for by the fact that he used his right shoulder
+more than the left in that state of life in which he had been placed. It
+was not what we, who do not kill, would consider a pleasant state. He
+was, in fact, a slayer of beasts--a foreman at the slaughter-house.
+
+It is, perhaps, fortunate that Antoine Lerac is of no great prominence
+in this record, and of none in his official capacity at the
+slaughter-house. But the man is worthy of some small attention, because
+he was so essentially of the nineteenth century--so distinctly a product
+of the latter end of what is, for us at least, the most important cycle
+of years the world has passed through. He was a man wearing the blouse
+with ostentation, and glorying in the greasy cap: professing his
+unwillingness to exchange the one for an ermine robe or the other for a
+crown. As a matter of fact, he invariably purchased the largest and
+roughest blouse to be found, and his cap was unnecessarily soaked with
+suet. He was a knight of industry of the very worst description--a
+braggart, a talker, a windbag. He preached, or rather he shrieked, the
+doctrine of equality, but the equality he sought was that which would
+place him on a par with his superiors, while in no way benefiting those
+beneath him.
+
+At one time, when he had first come into contact with the dark-eyed man
+who now sat at the table watching him curiously, there had been a
+struggle for mastery.
+
+“I am,” he had said with considerable heat, “as good as you. That is all
+I wish to demonstrate.”
+
+“No,” replied the other with that calm and assured air of superiority
+which the people once tried in vain to stamp out with the guillotine.
+“No, it is not. You want to demonstrate that you are superior, and you
+cannot do it. You say that you have as much right to walk on the
+pavement as I. I admit it. In your heart you want to prove that you have
+_more_, and you cannot do it. I could wear your blouse with
+comfort, but you could not put on my hat or my gloves without making
+yourself ridiculous. But--that is not the question. Let us get to
+business.”
+
+And in time the butcher succumbed, as he was bound to do, to the man
+whom he shrewdly suspected of being an aristocrat.
+
+He who entered the room immediately afterwards was of a very different
+type. His mode of entry was of another description. Whereas the man of
+blood swaggered in with an air of nervous truculence, as if he were
+afraid that some one was desirous of disputing his equality, the next
+comer crept in softly, and closed the door with accuracy. He was the
+incarnation of benevolence--in the best sense of the word, a sweet old
+man--looking out upon the world through large tinted spectacles with a
+beam which could not be otherwise than blind to all motes. In earlier
+years his face might, perhaps, have been a trifle hard in its contour;
+but Time, the lubricator, had eased some of the corners, and it was now
+the seat of kindness and love. He bowed ceremoniously to the first
+comer, and his manner seemed rather to breathe of fraternity than
+equality. As he bowed he mentioned the gentleman's name in such loving
+tones that no greeting could have been heartier.
+
+“Citizen Morot,” he said.
+
+The butcher, with more haste than dignity, assumed the chair which stood
+at the opposite end of the table to that occupied by the Citizen Morot.
+He had evidently hurried in first in order to secure that seat. From his
+pocket he produced a somewhat soiled paper, which he threw with
+exaggerated carelessness across the table. His manner was not entirely
+free from a suggestion of patronage.
+
+“What have we here?” inquired the first comer, who had not hitherto
+opened his lips, with a deep interest which might possibly have been
+ironical. He was just the sort of man to indulge in irony for his own
+satisfaction. He unfolded the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read.
+
+“Ah!” he said, “a receipt for five hundred rifles with bayonets and
+shoulder-straps complete. 'Received of the Citizen Morot five hundred
+rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.--Antoine Lerac.'”
+
+He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.
+
+“Thank you,” he said gravely.
+
+Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of
+the little iron stove behind him.
+
+“I judged it best to be strictly business-like,” said the butcher, with
+moderately well-simulated carelessness.
+
+“But yes, Monsieur Lerac,” with a shrug. “We of the Republic distrust
+each other so completely.”
+
+The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.
+
+“The brave Lerac,” he said, “is a man of business.”
+
+Citizen Morot ignored this observation.
+
+“And,” he said, turning to Lerac, “you have them stored in a safe place?
+There is absolutely no doubt of that?”
+
+“Absolutely none.”
+
+“Good.”
+
+“They are under my own eye.”
+
+“Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One
+cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we
+bought, the ammunition we must steal.”
+
+“They are good rifles--they are English,” said the butcher.
+
+“Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready
+to place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as
+themselves.”
+
+The old gentleman laughed--a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably
+encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
+
+“At last Friday's meeting,” Lerac said shortly, “we enrolled forty new
+members. We now number four hundred and two in our _arrondissement_
+alone.”
+
+“Good,” muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
+
+“And four hundred hardy companions they are.”
+
+“So I should imagine” (very gravely).
+
+“Four hundred strong men,” broke in the old gentleman rather hastily.
+“Ah, but that is already a power.”
+
+“It is,” opined Lerac sententiously, “the strong man who is the power.
+Riches are nothing; birth is nothing. This is the day of force. Force is
+everything.”
+
+“Everything,” acquiesced Morot fervently. He was consulting a small
+note-book, wherein he jotted down some figures.
+
+“Four hundred and two,” he muttered as he wrote, “up to Friday night, in
+the _arrondissement_ of the citizen--the good citizen--Antoine
+Lerac.”
+
+The butcher looked up with a doubtful expression upon his coarse face.
+His great brutal lips twitched, and he was on the point of speaking when
+the Citizen Morot's velvety eyes met his gaze with a quiet smile in
+which arrogance and innocence were mingled.
+
+“And now,” said the last-mentioned, turning affably to the old
+gentleman, “let us have the report of the reverend Father.”
+
+“Ah,” laughed Lerac, without attempting to conceal the contempt that was
+in his soul, “the Church.”
+
+The old gentleman spread out his hands in mild deprecation.
+
+“Yes,” he admitted, “we are under a shadow. I do not even dare to wear
+my cassock.”
+
+“You are in a valley of shadow, my reverend friend,” said the butcher,
+with visible exultation, “to which the sun will never penetrate now.”
+
+The Citizen Morot laughed at this pleasantry, while the old man against
+whom it was directed bowed his head patiently.
+
+“And yet,” said the laugher, with a certain air of patronage, “the
+Church is of some use still. She paid for those rifles, and she will pay
+for the ammunition--is it not so, my father?”
+
+“Without doubt--without doubt.”
+
+“Not to mention,” continued the other, “many contributions towards our
+general fund. The force that is supplied by the strong right arm of the
+people is, one finds, a force constantly in need of substantial
+replenishment.”
+
+“But,” exclaimed the butcher, emphatically banging his fist down upon
+the table, “why does she do it? That is what I want to know!”
+
+The old priest glanced furtively towards Morot, and then his face
+assumed an air of childish bewilderment.
+
+“Ah!” he said guilelessly, “who can tell?”
+
+“Who, indeed!” chimed in Morot.
+
+The butcher was pleased with himself. He sat upright, and, banging the
+table a second time, he looked round defiantly.
+
+“But,” said Morot, in an indifferent way which was frequently
+characteristic, “I do not see that it matters much. The money is good.
+It buys rifles, and it places them in the hands of the Citizen Lerac and
+his hardy companions. And when all is said and done, when the cartridges
+are burnt and a New Commune is raised, what does it matter whose money
+bought the rifles, and with what object the money was supplied?”
+
+The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
+conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
+upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for
+the sake of peace.
+
+The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets--causing
+Morot to wince visibly--and acquiesced.
+
+“But,” he added cunningly, “the Church, see you--Ach! it is deep--it is
+treacherous. Never trust the Church!”
+
+The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
+singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man
+and said--
+
+“Have you nothing to report to us--my father?”
+
+“Nothing of great importance,” replied he humbly. “All is going on well.
+We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
+and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
+in order to carry out the--the--what shall I say?--the loan of the
+ammunition.”
+
+“Ha, ha!” laughed the butcher.
+
+Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.
+
+“Next week?” he said interrogatively.
+
+“Yes--on Tuesday.”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+The butcher here rose and ostentatiously dragged out a watch from the
+depths of his blouse.
+
+“I must go,” he said. “I have committee at seven o'clock. And I shall
+dine first.”
+
+“Yes,” said Morot gravely. “Dine first. Take good care of yourself,
+citizen.”
+
+“Trust me.”
+
+“I do,” was the reply, delivered with a little nod in answer to Lerac's
+curt farewell bow.
+
+The butcher walked noisily through the shop--heavy with
+responsibility--weighted with the sense of his own importance to the
+world in general and to France in particular. Had he walked less noisily
+he might have overheard the soft laugh of the old priest.
+
+Citizen Morot did not laugh. He was not a laughing man. But a fine,
+disdainful smile passed over his face, scarce lighting it up at all.
+
+“What an utter fool the man is!” he said impatiently.
+
+“Yes--sir,” replied the old man, “but if he were less so it would be
+difficult to manage him.”
+
+“I am not sure. I always prefer to deal with knaves than with fools.”
+
+“That is because your Highness knows how to outwit them.”
+
+“No titles--my father,” said the Citizen Morot quietly. “No titles here,
+if you please. Tell me, are you quite sure of this scum--this Lerac?”
+
+“As sure as one can be of anything that comes from the streets. He is an
+excitable, bumptious, quarrelsome man; but he has a certain influence
+with those beneath him, although it seems hard to realise that there are
+such.”
+
+“Ha! you are right! But a republic is a social manure-heap--that which
+is on the top is not pleasant, and the stuff below--ugh!”
+
+The manner of the two men had quite changed. He who was called Morot
+leant back in his seat and stretched his arms out wearily. There is no
+disguise like animation; when that is laid aside we see the real man or
+the real woman. In repose this Frenchman was not cheerful to look upon.
+He was not sanguine, and a French pessimist is the worst thing of the
+kind that is to be found.
+
+When the door had closed behind the departing Lerac, the old priest
+seemed to throw off suddenly quite a number of years. His voice, when
+next he spoke, was less senile, his movements were brisker. He was, in a
+word, less harmless.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot had finished his dinner, brought in from a neighbouring
+restaurant all hot, and was slumberously enjoying a very strong-smelling
+cigar, when the door of the little room opened at length, and the two
+men went out together into the dimly-lighted street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+WITHOUT REST
+
+
+Half-way down Fleet Street, on the left-hand side, stands the church of
+St. Dunstan-in-the-West. Around its grimy foundations there seethes a
+struggling, toiling race of men--not only from morning till night, but
+throughout the twenty-four hours. Within sound of this church bell a
+hundred printing-presses throb out their odorous broadsheets to be
+despatched to every part of the world. Day and night, week in week out,
+the human writing-machines, and those other machines which are almost
+human (and better than human in some points) hurry through their
+allotted tasks, and ignore the saintly shadow cast upon them by the
+spire of St. Dunstan. This is indeed the centre of the world: the hub
+from whence spring the spokes of the vast wheel of life. For to this
+point all things over the world converge by a vast web of wire,
+railroad, coach road, and steamer track. Upon wings that boast of
+greater speed than the wind can compass come to this point the voices of
+our kin in farthest lands. News--news--news. News from the East of
+events occurring in the afternoon--scan it over and flash it westward,
+where it will be read on the morning of the same day! News in every
+tongue to be translated and brought into shape--while the solemn church
+clock tells his tale in deep voice, audible above the din and scurry.
+
+From hurried scribbler to pale compositor, and behold, the news is
+bawled all over London! Such work as this goes on for ever around the
+church of St. Dunstan. Scribblers come and scribblers go; compositors
+come to their work young and hopeful, they leave it bent and poisoned,
+yet the work goes on. Each day the pace grows quicker, each day some new
+means of rapid propagation is discovered, and each day life becomes
+harder to live. One morning, perhaps, a scribbler is absent from his
+post--“Brain-fever, complete rest; a wreck.” For years his writings have
+been read by thousands daily. A new man takes the vacant chair--he has
+been waiting more or less impatiently for this--and the thousands are
+none the wiser. One night the head compositor presses his black hand to
+his sunken chest, and staggers home. “And time too--he's had his turn,”
+ mutters the second compositor as he thinks of the extra five shillings a
+week. No doubt he is right. Every dog his day.
+
+Nearly opposite to the church stands a tall narrow house of dirty red
+brick, and it is with this house that we have to do.
+
+At seven o'clock, one evening some years ago--when heads now grey were
+brown, when eyes now dim were bright--the Strand was in its usual state
+of turmoil. Carriage followed carriage. Seedy clerks hustled past portly
+merchants--not their own masters, _bien entendu_, but those of
+other seedy clerks. Carriages and foot-passengers were alike going
+westward. All were leaving behind them the day and the busy city--some
+after a few hours devoted to the perusal of _Times_ and
+_Gazette_; others fagged and weary from a long day of dusty books.
+
+Ah! those were prosperous days in the City. Days when men of but a few
+years' standing rolled out to Clapham or Highgate behind a pair of
+horses. Days when books were often represented by a bank-book and a
+roughly-kept day-book. What need to keep mighty ledgers when profits are
+great and returns quick in their returning?
+
+As the pedestrians made their way along the narrow pavement some of them
+glanced at the door of the tall red-brick house and read the inscription
+on a brass plate screwed thereon. This consisted of two mystic words:
+_The Beacon_. There was, however, in reality, no mystery about it.
+The _Beacon_ was a newspaper, published weekly, and the clock of
+St. Dunstan's striking seven told the end of another week. The
+publishing day was past; another week with its work and pleasure was to
+be faced.
+
+From early morning until six o'clock in the evening this narrow doorway
+and passage had been crowded by a heaving, swearing, laughing mass of
+more or less dilapidated humanity interested in the retail sale of
+newspapers. At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on
+the staff of the _Beacon_, had taken his station at the door, in
+order to greet would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging
+words: “Sold hout!”
+
+During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling
+“hout” of the _Beacon_ every Tuesday evening.
+
+At seven o'clock Mrs. Bander emerged from her den on the fourth floor,
+like a portly good-natured spider, and with a broom proceeded to attack
+the dust shaken from the boots of the journalistic fraternity, with
+noisy energy. After that she polished the door-plate; and peace reigned
+within the narrow house.
+
+On the second floor there was a small room with windows looking out into
+a narrow lane behind the house. It was a singularly quiet room; the door
+opened and shut without sound or vibration; double windows insured
+immunity from the harrowing cries of such enterprising merchants as
+exercised their lungs and callings in the narrow lane beneath. A certain
+sense of ease and comfort imperceptibly crept over the senses of persons
+entering this tiny apartment. It must have been in the atmosphere; for
+some rooms more luxuriously furnished are without it. It certainly does
+not lie in the furniture--this imperceptible sense of companionship; it
+does not lurk in the curtains. Some mansions know it, and many cottages.
+It is even to be met with in the tiny cabin of a coasting vessel.
+
+This diminutive room, despite its lack of sunlight, was such as one
+might wish to sit in. A broad low table stood in the middle of the
+floor, and on it lay the mellow light of a shaded lamp. At this table
+two men were seated opposite to each other. One was writing, slowly and
+easily, the other was idling with the calm restfulness of a man who has
+never worked very hard. He was rolling his pencil up to the top of his
+blotting-pad, and allowing it to come down again in accordance with the
+rules of gravity.
+
+This was Mr. Bodery's habit when thoughtful; and after all, there was no
+great harm in it. Mr. Bodery was editor and proprietor of the
+_Beacon_. The amusing and somewhat satirical article which appeared
+weekly under the heading of “Light” was penned by the chubby hand at
+that moment engaged with the pencil.
+
+Mr. Morgan, sub-editor, was even stouter than his chief. Laughter was
+his most prominent characteristic. He laughed over “Light” when in its
+embryo state, he laughed when the _Beacon_ sold out at six o'clock
+on Tuesday evenings. He laughed when the printing-machine went wrong on
+Monday afternoon, and--most wonderful of all--he laughed at his own
+jokes, in which exercise he was usually alone. His jokes were not of the
+first force. Mr. Morgan was the author of the slightly laboured and
+weighty Parliamentary articles on the first page. He never joked on
+paper, which is a gift apart.
+
+These two gentlemen were in no way of brilliant intellect. They had
+their share of sound, practical common-sense, which is in itself a
+splendid substitute. Fortune had come to them (as it comes to most men
+when it comes at all) without any apparent reason. Mr. Bodery had
+supplied the capital, and Mr. Morgan's share of the undertaking was
+added in the form of a bustling, hollow energy. The _Beacon_ was
+lighted, so to speak. It burnt in a dull and somewhat flickering manner
+for some years; then a new hand fed the flame, and its light spread
+afar.
+
+It was from pure good nature that Mr. Bodery held out a helping hand to
+the son of his old friend, Walter Vellacott, when that youth appeared
+one day at the office of the _Beacon_, and in an off-hand manner
+announced that he was seeking employment. Like many actions performed
+from a similar motive, Mr. Bodery's kindness of heart met with its
+reward. Young Christian Vellacott developed a remarkable talent for
+journalistic literature--in fact, he was fortunate enough to have found,
+at the age of twenty-two, his avocation in life.
+
+Gradually, as the years wore on, the influence of the young fellow's
+superior intellect made itself felt. Prom the position of a mere
+supernumerary, he worked his way upwards, taking on to his shoulders one
+duty after another--bearing the weight, quietly and confidently, of one
+responsibility after another. This exactly suited Mr. Bodery and his
+sub-editor. There was very little of the slave in the composition of
+either. They delighted in an easy, luxurious life, with just enough work
+to impart a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction. It suited Christian
+Vellacott also. In a few weeks he found his level--in a few months he
+began rising to higher levels.
+
+He was an only son; the only child of a brilliant father whose name was
+known in every court in Europe as that of a harum-scarum diplomatist,
+who could have done great things in his short life if he had wished to.
+It is from only sons that Fortune selects her favourites. Men who have
+no brothers to share their amusements turn to serious matters early in
+life. Christian Vellacott soon discovered that a head was required at
+the office of the _Beacon_ to develop the elements of success
+undoubtedly lying within the journal, and that the owner of such a head
+could in time dictate his own terms to the easy-going proprietor.
+
+Unsparingly he devoted the whole of his exceptional energies to the work
+before him. He lived in and for it. Each night he went home fagged and
+weary; but each morning saw him return to it with undaunted spirit.
+
+Human nature, however, is exhaustible. The influence of a strong mind
+over a strong body is great, but it is nevertheless limited. The
+_Beacon_ had reached a large circulation, but its slave was worn
+out. Two years without a holiday--two years of hurried, hard brain-work
+had left their mark. It is often so when a man finds his avocation too
+early. He is too hurried, works too hard, and collapses; or he becomes
+self-satisfied, over-confident, and unbearable. Fortunately for
+Christian Vellacott he was devoid of conceit, which is like the
+scaffolding round a church-spire, reaching higher and falling first.
+
+There was also a “home” influence at work. When Christian passed out of
+the narrow doorway, and turned his face westward, his day's work was by
+no means over, as will be shown hereafter.
+
+As Mr. Bodery rolled his pencil up and down his blotting-pad, he was
+slowly realising the fact that something must be done. Presently he
+looked up, and his pleasant eyes rested on the bent head of his
+sub-editor.
+
+“Morgan,” he said, “I have been thinking--Seems to me Vellacott wants a
+rest! He's played out!”
+
+Mr. Morgan wiped his pen vigorously upon his coat, just beneath the
+shoulder, and sat back in his chair.
+
+“Yes,” he replied; “he has not been up to the mark for some time. But
+you will find difficulty in making him take a holiday. He is a devil for
+working--ha, ha!”
+
+This “ha, ha!” did not mean very much. There was no mirth in it. It was
+a species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his
+remark.
+
+“I will ring for him now and see what he says about it.”
+
+Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong.
+Almost instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without
+said, “Yess'r.” A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at
+attention in the doorway.
+
+“Has Mr. Vellacott gone?”
+
+“No--sir!” In a tone which seemed to ask: “Now _is_ it likely?”
+
+“Where is he?”
+
+“In the shop, sir.”
+
+“Ask him to come here, please.”
+
+“Yess'r.”
+
+The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his
+heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head
+of the stairs. Then he proceeded to slide down the banister, to the
+trifling detriment of his waistcoat. As he reached the end of his
+perilous journey a door opened at the foot of the stairs, and a man's
+form became discernible in the dim light.
+
+“Is that the way you generally come downstairs, Wilson?” asked a voice.
+
+“It is the quickest way, sir!”
+
+“Not quite; there is one quicker, which you will discover some day if
+you overbalance at the top!”
+
+“Mr. Bodery wishes to see you, please sir!” The small boy's manner was
+very different from what it had been outside the door upstairs.
+
+“All right,” replied Vellacott, putting on the coat he had been carrying
+over his arm. A peculiar smooth rapidity characterised all his
+movements. At school he had been considered a very “clean” fielder. The
+cleanness was there still.
+
+The preternaturally sharp boy--sharp as only London boys are--watched
+the lithe form vanish up the stairs; then he wagged his head very wisely
+and said to himself in a patronising way:
+
+“He's the right sort, he is--no chalk there!”
+
+Subsequently he balanced his diminutive person full length upon the
+balustrade, and proceeded to haul himself laboriously, hand over hand,
+to the top.
+
+In the meantime Christian Vellacott had passed into the editor's room.
+The light of the lamp was driven downwards upon the table, but the
+reflection of it rose and illuminated his face. It was a fairly handsome
+face, with eyes just large enough to be keen and quick without being
+dreamy. The slight fair moustache was not enough to hide the mouth,
+which was refined, and singularly immobile. He glanced at Mr. Bodery, as
+he entered, quickly and comprehensively, and then turned his eyes
+towards Mr. Morgan. His face was very still and unemotional, but it was
+pale, and his eyes were deeply sunken. A keen observer would have
+noticed, in comparing the three men, that there was something about the
+youngest which was lacking in his elders. It lay in the direct gaze of
+his eyes, in the carriage of his head, in the small, motionless mouth.
+It was what is vaguely called “power.”
+
+“Sit down, Vellacott,” said Mr. Brodery. “We want to have a
+consultation.” After a short pause he continued: “You know, of course,
+that it is a dull season just now. People do not seem to read the papers
+in August. Now, we want you to take a holiday. Morgan has been away; I
+shall go when you come back. Say three weeks or a month. You've been
+over-working yourself a bit--burning the candle at both ends, eh?”
+
+“Hardly at both ends,” corrected Vellacott, with a ready smile which
+entirely transformed his face. “Hardly at both ends--at one end in a
+draught, perhaps.”
+
+“Ha, ha! Very good,” chimed in Mr. Morgan the irrepressible. “At one end
+in a draught--that is like me, only the draught has got inside my cheeks
+and blown them out instead of in like yours, eh? Ha, ha!” And he patted
+his cheeks affectionately.
+
+“I don't think I care for a holiday just now, thanks,” he said slowly,
+without remembering to call up a smile for Mr. Morgan's benefit.
+Unconsciously he put his hand to his forehead, which was damp with the
+heat of the printing-office which he had just left.
+
+“My dear fellow,” said Mr. Bodery gravely, emphasising his remarks with
+the pencil, “you have one thing in life to learn yet--no doubt you have
+many, but this one in particular you must learn. Work is not the only
+thing we are created for--not the only thing worth living for. It is a
+necessary evil, that is all. When you have reached my age you will come
+to look upon it as such. A little enjoyment is good for every one. There
+are many things to form a brighter side to life.
+Nature--travelling--riding--rowing----”
+
+“And love,” suggested the sub-editor, placing his hand dramatically on
+the right side of his broad waistcoat instead of the left. He could
+afford to joke on the subject now that the grass grew high in the little
+country churchyard where he had laid his young wife fifteen years
+before. In those days he was a grave, self-contained man, but that
+sorrow had entirely changed his nature. The true William Morgan only
+came out on paper now.
+
+Mr. Bodery was right. Christian had yet to learn a great lesson, and
+unconsciously he was even now beginning to grasp its meaning. His whole
+mind was full of his work, and out of those earnest grey eyes his soul
+was looking at the man who was perhaps saving his life.
+
+“We can easily manage it,” said the editor, continuing his advantage. “I
+will take over the foreign policy article. The reviewing you can do
+yourself, as we can always send you the books, and there is no pressing
+hurry about them. The general work we will manage somehow--won't we,
+Morgan?”
+
+“Of course we will; as well as and perhaps better than he could do it
+himself, eh? Ha, ha!”
+
+“But seriously, Vellacott,” continued Mr. Bodery, “things will go on
+just as well for a time. When I was young I used to make that mistake
+too. I thought that no one could manage things like myself, but in time
+I realised (as you will do some day) that things went on as smoothly
+when I was away. Depend upon it, my boy, when a man is put on the shelf,
+worn out and useless, another soon fills his place. You are too young to
+go on the shelf yet. To please me, Vellacott, go away for three weeks.”
+
+“You are very kind, sir--” began the young fellow, but Mr. Bodery
+interrupted him.
+
+“Well, then, that is settled. Shall we say this day week? That will give
+you time to make your plans.”
+
+With a few words of thanks Christian left the room. Vaguely and
+mechanically he wandered upstairs to his own particular den. It was a
+disappointing little chamber. The chaos one expects to find on the desk
+of a literary man was lacking here. No papers lay on the table in
+artistic disorder. The presiding genius of the room was
+method--clear-headed, practical method. The walls were hidden by shelves
+of books, from the last half-hysterical production of some vain woman to
+the single-volume work of a man's lifetime. Many of the former were
+uncut, the latter bore signs of having been read and studied. The
+companionship of these silent friends brought peace and contentment to
+the young man's spirit. He sat wearily down, and, leaning his chin upon
+his folded arms, he thought. Gradually there came into his mind pictures
+of the fair open country, of rolling hills and quiet valleys, of quiet
+lanes and running waters. A sudden yearning to breathe God's pure air
+took possession of his faculties. Mr. Bodery had gained the day. In the
+room below Mr. Morgan wrote on in his easy, comfortable manner. The
+editor was still thoughtfully playing with his pencil. The sharp little
+boy was standing on his head in the passage. At last Mr. Bodery rose
+from his chair and began his preparations for leaving. As he brushed his
+hat he looked towards his companion and said:
+
+“That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one.”
+
+“I recognised that fact some years ago,” replied the sub-editor, wiping
+his pen on his coat. “It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+BURDENED
+
+
+Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the
+westward-wending throng in the Strand. In the midst of the crowd he was
+alone, as townsmen soon learn to be. The passing faces, the roar of
+traffic, and the thousand human possibilities of interest around him in
+no way disturbed his thoughts. In his busy brain the traffic of thought,
+passing and repassing, crossing and recrossing, went on unaffected by
+outward things. A modern poet has confessed that his muse loves the
+pavement--a bold confession, but most certainly true. Why does talent
+gravitate to cities? Because there it works its best--because friction
+necessarily produces brilliancy. Nature is a great deceiver; she draws
+us on to admire her insinuating charms, and in the contemplation of them
+we lose our energy.
+
+Christian had been born and bred in cities. The din and roar of life was
+to him what the voice of the sea is to the sailor. In the midst of
+crowded humanity he was in his element, and as he walked rapidly along
+he made his way dexterously through the narrow places without thinking
+of it. While meditating deeply he was by no means absorbed. In his
+active life there had been no time for thoughts beyond the present, no
+leisure for dreaming. He could not afford to be absent-minded. Numbers
+of men are so situated. Their minds are required at all moments, in full
+working order, clear and rapid--ready, shoes on feet and staff in hand,
+to go whithersoever they may be called.
+
+Although he was going to the saddest home that ever hung like a
+mill-stone round a young neck, Christian wasted no time. The glory of
+the western sky lay ruddily over the river as he emerged from the small
+streets behind Chelsea and faced the broad placid stream. Presently he
+stopped opposite the door of a small red-brick house, which formed the
+corner of a little terrace facing the river and a quiet street running
+inland from it.
+
+With a latch-key he admitted himself noiselessly--almost
+surreptitiously. Once inside he closed the door without unnecessary
+sound and stood for some moments in the dark little entrance-hall,
+apparently listening.
+
+Presently a voice broke the silence of the house. A querulous,
+high-pitched voice, quavering with the palsy of extreme age. The sound
+of it was no new thing for Christian Vellacott. To-night his lips gave a
+little twist of pain as he heard it. The door of the room on the ground
+floor was open, and he could hear the words distinctly enough.
+
+“You know, Mrs. Strawd, we have a nephew, but he is always gadding
+about, I am sure; he has been a terrible affliction to us. A frothy,
+good-for-nothing boy--that is what he is. We have not set eyes on him
+for a month or more. Why, I almost forget his name!”
+
+“Christian, that is his name--a most inappropriate one, I am sure,”
+ chimed in another voice, almost identical in tone. “Why Walter should
+have given him such a name I cannot tell. Ah! sister Judith, things are
+different from what they used to be when we were younger!”
+
+The frothy one outside the door seemed in no great degree impressed by
+these impartial views upon himself, though the pained look was still
+upon his lips as he turned to hang up his hat.
+
+“He's coming home to-night, though, Miss Judith,” said another voice, in
+a coaxing, wheedling tone, such as one uses towards petulant children.
+“He's coming home to-night, sure enough!” It was a pleasant voice, with
+a strong, capable ring about it. One instinctively felt that the
+possessor of it was a woman to be relied upon at a crisis.
+
+“Is he now--is he now?” said the first speaker reflectively. “Well, I am
+sure it is time he did. We will just give him a lesson, eh, sister
+Hester?--we will give him a lesson, shall we not?”
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a little woman, quiet though
+somewhat anxious looking, came out. She evinced no surprise at the sight
+of the good-for-nothing nephew in the dimly-lighted passage, greeting
+him in a low voice.
+
+“How have they been to-day, nurse?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, they have been well enough, Master Christian,” was the reply, in a
+cheerful undertone.
+
+“Aunt Judith has 'most got rid of her cold. But they've been very
+trying, sir--just like children, as wilful as could be--the same
+question over and over again till I was fit to cry. They are quieter
+now, but--but it's you they're abusing now, Master Chris!”
+
+The young fellow looked down into the little woman's face. His eyes were
+sympathetic enough, but he said nothing. With a little nod and a
+suppressed sigh he turned away from her. He laid his hand upon the door
+and then stopped.
+
+“As soon as you have brought up tea,” he said, looking back, “I will
+take them for the evening, and you can have your rest as usual.”
+
+From the room came, at intervals, the ring of silver, as if some one
+were moving the spoons and forks from the table. Christian waited until
+these sounds had ceased before he entered.
+
+“Good evening, Aunt Judith. Good evening, Aunt Hester,” he said
+cheerily.
+
+They were exactly alike, these two old ladies; the same marvellously
+wrinkled features and silver hair; voluminous caps and white woollen
+shawls identical. With exaggerated marks of respect he kissed each by
+turn on her withered cheek.
+
+“May I sit down, Aunt Judith?” he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer drew a chair towards the fireplace, where a small fire burnt
+though it was the month of August.
+
+“Yes, Nephew Vellacott, you may take a seat,” replied Aunt Judith with
+chill severity, “and you may also tell us where you have been during the
+last four weeks.”
+
+Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
+farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
+mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
+old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.
+
+“Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
+doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us--us who support
+you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your
+back--leaving us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us,
+pray--what are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?”
+
+“What?” exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, “have the spoons
+gone--?” he almost said “again,” but checked himself in time. He turned
+to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every piece of
+silver.
+
+“There, you see!” quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
+ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
+and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
+Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
+tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of
+a sick-nurse.
+
+“How did it occur?” he asked, when the old lady had recovered.
+
+“There, you see,” remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of
+her accomplice.
+
+“I _am_ sure!” panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.
+
+“I _am_ sure!” echoed Aunt Hester.
+
+They allowed their nephew's remorse full scope, and then proceeded
+laboriously to extract the missing articles from the side of Aunt
+Judith's arm-chair. This farce was rehearsed every night, nearly word
+for word. A pleasant recreation for an intellectual man, assuredly. The
+only relief to the monotony was the occasional loss of a spoon in the
+crevice between the arm and the seat of Aunt Judith's chair. Then
+followed such a fumbling and a “dear me-ing” until the worthless nephew
+was perforce called to the rescue, to fish and probe with a paper-knife
+till the lost treasure was recovered.
+
+“We only wished, Nephew Vellacott, to show you what might have happened
+during your unconscionable absence. Servants are only too ready to talk
+to the first comer of their mistresses' wealth and position. They have
+no discrimination.” said Aunt Judith in a reproving tone. The old ladies
+were very fond of boasting of their wealth and position, whereas, in
+reality, their nephew was the only barrier between them and the
+workhouse.
+
+“Well, Aunt Judith,” replied Christian patiently, “I will try and stay
+at home more in future. But you know it is time I was doing something to
+earn my own livelihood now. I cannot exist on your kindness all my
+life!”
+
+He had learnt to humour these two silly old women. During the two years
+which had just passed he had gradually recognised the utter futility of
+endeavouring to make them realise the true state of their affairs. They
+spoke grandiloquently of the family solicitor: a man who had been in his
+grave for nearly a quarter of a century. It was simply impossible to
+instil into their minds any fact whatever, and such facts as had
+established themselves there were permanent. They belonged to another
+generation, and their mode of thought was a remnant of a forgotten and
+unsatisfactory period. To them Napoleon the First was a living man,
+Queen Victoria unheard of. The decay of their minds had been slow, and
+it had been Christian Vellacott's painful task to watch its steady
+progress. Day by day he had followed the gradual failing of each sense
+and power.
+
+There is something pathetic about the decay of a mind which has been
+driven to death by constant work, but there is a compensating thought to
+alleviate the sadness. It may rattle and grow loose, like some worn-out
+engine, where the friction presses; but it will work till it collapses
+totally, and some of the work achieved is good and permanent. It is
+bound to be so. Infinitely sadder is the sight of a mind which is
+falling to pieces by reason of the rust that has eaten into its very
+core. For rust must needs mean idleness--and no human intellect
+_need_ be idle. So it had been with these two old ladies. Born in a
+wofully unintellectual age, they had never left a certain groove in
+life. When their brother married Christian Vellacott's grandmother, they
+had left his house in Honiton to go and live in Bodmin upon a limited
+but sufficient income. These “sufficient incomes” are a curse; they do
+not allow of charity and make no call for labour.
+
+When Christian Vellacott arrived in England, an orphan with no great
+wealth, he made it his first duty to visit the only living relations he
+possessed. He was just in time to save them, literally, from starvation.
+It was obvious that he could not make a literary livelihood in Bodmin,
+so he made a home for the two old wrecks of humanity in London. Their
+means, like their minds, were simply exhausted. Aunt Judith was
+ninety-three; Aunt Hester ninety-one. During that vast blank (for blank
+it was, so far as their lives were concerned) stretching away back into
+a perspective of time which few around them could gauge--they had never
+been separated for one day. Like two apples they had grown side by side,
+until their very contact had engendered disease--a slow, deadly,
+creeping rot, finding its source at the point of contact, reaching its
+goal at the heart of each. They had _existed_ thus with terrible
+longevity--lived a mere animal life of sleeping and eating, such as
+hundreds of women are living around us now.
+
+“Of course, you must learn to make your daily bread, Nephew Vellacott!”
+ answered Aunt Hester. “The desire does you credit; but you should be
+careful into what society you go without us. Girls are very designing,
+and many a one would like to marry a nephew of mine--eh, Judith?”
+
+“Yes, that they would,” replied the old lady. “The minxes know that they
+might do worse than catch the nephew of Judith and Hester Vellacott!”
+
+“Look at us,” continued Aunt Hester, drawing up her shrunken old form
+with a touch of pride. “Look at us? We have always avoided marriage, and
+we are very nice and happy, I am sure!”
+
+She waited for a confirmation of this bold statement, but Christian was
+not listening. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his
+knees, gazing into the fire. He was recalling the conversation which had
+passed in the little room in the Strand. Could he leave these two
+helpless old creatures. Could he get away from it all for a little
+time--away from the maddening prattle of unguided tongues, from the
+dread monotony of hopeless watching? He knew that he was wasting his
+manhood, neglecting his intellectual opportunities, and endangering his
+career; but his course of duty was marked out with terrible
+distinctness. He never saw the pathos of it, as a woman would have seen
+it, gathering perhaps some slight alleviation from the sight. It never
+entered his thoughts to complain, and he never conceived the idea of
+drawing comparisons between his position and that of other young men
+who, instead of being slaves to their relatives, made very good use of
+them. He merely went on doing his obvious duty and striving not to look
+forward too eagerly to a release at some future period.
+
+Fortunately, Mrs. Strawd was not long in bringing in the simple evening
+meal; and the attention of the old ladies was at once turned to the
+mystery hidden beneath the dish-cover. What was it, and would there be
+enough for Nephew Vellacott?
+
+Deftly, Christian poured out the tea. Two cups very weak and one
+stronger. Then two thin slices of crustless bread had to be buttered.
+This operation required great judgment and impartiality.
+
+“Excuse me, Nephew Vellacott!” said Aunt Judith, with dangerous
+severity. “Is that first slice intended for Aunt Hester? It appears to
+me that the butter is very thick--much thicker than on the second, which
+is doubtless intended for me!”
+
+“Do you think so, Aunt Judith?” asked Christian in a voice purposely
+loud in order to drown Aunt Hester's remonstrance. “Then I will take a
+little off!” He passed the knife harmlessly over the faulty slice, and
+laid the two side by side upon a plate. Then the old ladies promptly
+held a survey on them--that declared to be more heavily buttered being
+awarded to Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority.
+
+With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly
+despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the
+property of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament. The
+part he played in the domestic economy of the small household was a
+contemplative rather than an active one. Mick, Aunt Hester's bird, was
+of a more lively nature. He had, as a rule, something to say upon all
+subjects--and said it.
+
+Now Aunt Hester, in her inmost heart, loved a silent bird, and secretly
+coveted Dick, but as Mick was her property, and Dick the silent was
+owned by Aunt Judith, she never lost an opportunity of enlarging upon
+the stupidity and uselessness of silent birds. Aunt Judith, on the other
+hand, admired a lively and talkative canary; consequently she was
+weighed down with the conviction that her sister's bird was the superior
+article. Altogether, birds as a topic of conversation were best avoided.
+Dick and Mick were housed in cages of similar build--indeed, most things
+were strictly in duplicate in the whole household. Every evening
+Christian brought the cages, and Aunt Judith and Aunt Hester carefully
+placed within the wires a small piece of bread-and-butter, which Nurse
+Strawd as carefully removed, untouched, the next morning.
+
+When the birds' wants had been attended to, it was Christian's duty to
+settle the old ladies comfortably in their respective arm-chairs. This
+he did tenderly and cleverly as a woman, but it was not a pleasant sight
+to look upon. The man, with his lean, strong face, long jaw, and
+prominent chin, was so obviously out of place. These peaceful duties
+were never meant for such as he. His somewhat closely-set eyes were not
+such as wax tender over drowning flies, for even in repose they were
+somewhat direct and stern in their gaze. In fact, Christian Vellacott
+was so visibly created for strife and the forefront of life's battle,
+that it was almost painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful
+avocation.
+
+As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for
+an hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with
+the deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was
+their hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although
+they dozed in their chairs.
+
+He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
+touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and
+drowsily for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the
+room. Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys.
+Aunt Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on
+playing. Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds
+seemed to fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering.
+Silently the player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at
+the table from which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink,
+and paper were within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the
+following note:--
+
+“DEAR SIDNEY,--May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
+your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather
+than offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier
+way of spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly
+old Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,
+
+“CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT.”
+
+He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed
+to “Sidney Carew, Esq., St. Mary Western, Dorset.” Then he slipped
+noiselessly out of the room and upstairs to where Mrs. Strawd had a
+small sitting-room of her own. The little woman heard his footstep on
+the old creaking stairs, and opened the door of her room before he
+reached it.
+
+“If I went away for three weeks,” he said, “could you do without me?”
+
+“Of course I could,” replied the little woman readily. “Just you go away
+and take a holiday, Master Christian. You need it sorely, that I know.
+You do indeed. We shall get on splendidly without you. I'll just have my
+sister to come and stay, same as I did when you had to go to the Paris
+House of Parliament.”
+
+“I have not had much of a holiday, you see, for two years now!”
+
+“Of course you haven't, and you want it. It's only human nature--and you
+a young man that ought to be in the open air all day. For an old woman
+like me it's different. We're made differently by the good God on
+purpose, I think.”
+
+“Well, then, if your sister comes it must be understood, nurse, that I
+make the same arrangement with her as exists with you. She must simply
+be a duplicate of you--you understand?”
+
+The little woman laughed, lightly enough.
+
+“Oh, yes, Master Christian, that is all right. But you need not have
+troubled about that. She never would have thought of such a thing as
+wages, I'm sure!”
+
+“No,” replied he gravely, “I know she would not, but it will be better,
+I think, to have it understood beforehand. Gratitude is a very nice
+thing to work for, but some work is worth more than gratitude. If you
+are going out for your walk, perhaps you will post this letter.”
+
+Before Christian went to bed that night he held a candle close to the
+mirror and looked long and hard at his own reflection. There were dark
+streaks under his eyes, his small mouth was drawn and dry, his lips
+colourless. At each temple the bone stood out rather prominently, and
+the skin was brilliant in its whiteness and reflected the light of the
+candle. He felt his own pulse. It was beating, at one moment fast and
+irregular, at the next it was hardly perceptible.
+
+“Yes!” he muttered, with a professional nod--in his training as a
+journalist he had learnt a little of many sciences--“yes, old Bodery was
+right.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A REUNION
+
+
+The gentle August night had cooled and soothed the dusty atmosphere. All
+things looked fair, even in London. The placid Thames glided stealthily
+down to the sea, as if wishing to speed on unseen, to cast at last his
+reeking waters into the cool ocean. The bright brown sails, low hulls,
+and gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream
+added to the beauty of the scene.
+
+Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the
+door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man. When once
+he had made up his mind to go, every obstacle was thrown aside, and his
+determination was now as great as had been his previous reluctance. He
+had no presentiment that he was taking an important step in life--one of
+those steps which we hardly notice at the time, but upon which we look
+back in after years and note how clear and definite it was, losing
+ourselves in vague conjecture as to what might have been had we held
+back.
+
+Christian being practical in all things, knew how to travel comfortably,
+dispensing with rugs and bags and such small packages as are understood
+to be dear to the elderly single female heart.
+
+The smoky suburbs were soon left behind, and the smiling land gave forth
+such gentle, pastoral odours as only long confinement in cities can
+teach us to detect. Christian lowered the window, and the warm air
+played round him as it had not done for two long years. The whizz of the
+wind past his face brought back the memory of the long, idle, happy days
+spent with his father in the Mediterranean, when they had been half
+sailors and wholly Bohemians, gliding from port to port, village to
+city, in their yacht, as free and careless as the wind. The warm breeze
+almost seemed to be coming to him from some parched Italian plain
+instead of pastoral Buckinghamshire.
+
+Then his thoughts travelled still further back to his school-days in
+Prague, when his father and Mr. Carew were colleagues in a brilliant but
+unfortunate embassy. Five years had passed since then. The two fathers
+were now dead, and the children had dropped apart as men and women do
+when their own personal interests begin to engross them. Now again, in
+this late summer time, they were to meet. All, that is, who were left.
+The _débris_, as it were. Three voices there were whose tones would
+never more be heard in the round of merry jest. Mr. Carew, Walter
+Vellacott (Uncle Walter, the young ones called him), and little Charlie
+Carew, the bright-eyed sailor of the family, had all three travelled on.
+The two former, whose age and work achieved had softened their
+departure, were often spoken of with gently lowered voice, but little
+Charlie's name was never mentioned. It was a fatal mistake--this
+silence--if you will; but it was one of those mistakes which are often
+made in wisdom. In splendid, solitary grandeur he lay awaiting the end
+of all things--the call of his Creator--in the grey ice-fields of the
+North. The darling of his ship, he had died with a smile in his blue
+eyes and a sad little jest upon his lips to cheer the rough fur-clad
+giants kneeling at his side. Time, the merciful, had healed, as best he
+could (which is by no means perfectly), the wound in the younger hearts.
+It is only the old that are quite beyond his powers; he cannot touch
+them. Mrs. Carew, a woman with a patient face and a ready smile, was the
+only representative of the vanishing generation. Her daughters--ay! and
+perhaps her sons as well (though boys are not credited with so much
+tender divination)--knew the meaning of the little droop at the side of
+their mother's smiling lips. They detected the insincerity of her kindly
+laugh.
+
+Shortly after leaving Exeter, Christian's station was reached. This was
+an old-fashioned seaport town, whose good fortune it was to lie too far
+west for a London watering-place, and too far east for Plymouth or
+Bristol. Sidney Carew was on the platform--a sturdy, typical Englishman,
+with a certain sure slowness of movement handed down to him by seafaring
+ancestors. The two friends had not met for many years, but with men
+absence has little effect upon affection. During the space of many years
+they may never meet and seldom write, but at the end that gulf of time
+is bridged over by a simple “Halloa, old fellow!” and a warm grip.
+Slowly, piece by piece, the history of the past years comes out. Both
+are probably changed in thought and nature, but the old individuality
+remains, the old bond of friendship survives.
+
+“Well, Sidney?”
+
+“How are you?”
+
+Simultaneously--and that was all. The changes were there in both, and
+noted by both, but not commented upon.
+
+“Molly is outside with the dog-cart,” said Sidney; “is your luggage
+forward?”
+
+“Yes, that is it being pitched out now.”
+
+It was with womanly foresight that Miss Molly Carew had elected to wait
+outside with the dog-cart while her brother met Christian on the
+platform. She feared a little natural embarrassment at meeting the old
+playfellow of the family, and concluded that the first moments would be
+more easily tided over here than at the train. Her fears were, as it
+turned out, unnecessary, but she did not know what Christian might be
+like after the lapse of years. Of herself she was sure enough, being one
+of those happy people who have no self-consciousness whatever.
+
+On seeing her, Christian came forward at once, raising his hat and
+shaking hands as if they had parted the day before.
+
+She saw at once that it was all right. This was Christian Vellacott as
+she had remembered him. She looked down at him as he stood with one hand
+resting on the splashboard, and he, looking up to her, smiled in return.
+
+“Christian,” she said, “do you know I should scarcely have recognised
+you. You are so big, and--and you look positively ghastly!” She finished
+her remark with a little laugh which took away from the spoken meaning
+of it.
+
+“Ghastly?” he replied. “Thanks: I do not feel like it--only hungry.
+Hungry, and desperately glad to see a face that does not look
+overworked.”
+
+“Meaning me.”
+
+“Meaning you.”
+
+She gave a little sarcastic nod, and pursed up a pair of very red lips.
+
+“Nevertheless I am the only person in the house who does any work at
+all. Hilda, for instance--”
+
+At this moment Sidney came up and interrupted them.
+
+“Jump up in front, Chris,” he said; “Molly will drive, while I sit
+behind. Your luggage will follow in the cart.”
+
+The drive of six miles passed away very pleasantly. Molly's strong
+little hands were quite accustomed to the reins, and the men were free
+to talk, which, however, she found time to do as well. The two young
+people on the front seat stole occasional sidelong glances at each
+other. The clever, mischievous little girl of Christian's recollection
+was transformed by the kindly hand of time into a fascinating and
+capable young lady. The uncertain profile had grown clear and regular.
+The truant hair was somewhat more under control, which, however, was all
+that could be said upon that subject. Only her eyes were unchanged, the
+laughing, fearless eyes of old. Fearless they had been in the times of
+childish mischief and adventure; fearless they remained in the face of
+life's graver mischances now.
+
+Christian had been a shy and commonplace-enough boy as she recollected
+him. Now she found a self-possessed man of the world. Tall and strong of
+body she saw he was, and she felt that he possessed another strength--a
+strength of mind and will which, reaching out, can grasp and hold
+anything or everything.
+
+With practised skill, Molly turned into the narrow gateway at a swinging
+trot, and then only was the house visible--a low, rambling building of
+brick and stone uncouthly mixed. Its chief outward characteristic was a
+promise of inward comfort. The sturdy manner in which its windows faced
+the scantily-wooded tableland that stretched away unbroken by wall or
+hedgerow to the sea, implied a certain thickness of wall and woodwork.
+The doorway which looked inland was singularly broad, and bore signs
+about its stonework of having once been even broader. The house had
+originally been a hollow square, with a roofless courtyard in the
+centre, into which the sheep and cattle were in olden times driven for
+safety at night against French marauders. This had later on been roofed
+in, and transformed into a roomy and comfortable hall, such as might be
+used as a sitting-room. All around the house, except, indeed, upon the
+sea-ward side, stood gnarled and twisted trees; Scotch firs in
+abundance, here and there a Weymouth pine, and occasionally a knotted
+dwarf oak with a tendency to run inland. The garden was, however, rich
+enough in shrubs and undergrowth, and to the landward side was a gleam
+of still water, being all that remained of a broad, deep moat.
+
+Mrs. Carew welcomed Christian at the open door. She said very little,
+but her manner was sufficiently warm and friendly to dispense with
+words.
+
+“Where is Hilda?” asked Molly, as she leapt lightly to the ground.
+
+“I do not know, dear. She is out, somewhere; in the garden, I expect.
+You are before your time a little. The train must have been punctual,
+for a wonder. Had Hilda known, she would have been here to welcome you,
+I know, Christian.”
+
+“I expect she is at the moat,” said Molly. “Come along, Christian; we
+will go and look for her. This way.”
+
+In the meantime Sidney had driven the dog-cart round to the stables,
+kneeling awkwardly upon the back seat.
+
+As Christian followed his fair guide down the little path leading to the
+moat, he began to feel that it was not so difficult after all to throw
+off the dull weight of anxiety that lay upon his mind. The thoughts
+about the _Beacon_ were after all not so very absorbing. The
+anxiety regarding the welfare of the two old ladies was already
+alleviated by distance. The strong sea air, the change to pleasant and
+kindly society, were already beginning their work.
+
+Suddenly Molly stopped, and Christian saw that she was standing at the
+edge of a long, still sheet of water bounded by solid stonework, which,
+however, was crumbling away in parts, while everywhere the green moss
+grew in velvety profusion.
+
+“Oh, Christian,” said Molly lightly, “I suppose Sidney told you a little
+of our news. Men's letters are not discursive as a rule I know, but no
+doubt he told you--something.”
+
+He was standing beside her at the edge of the moat, looking down into
+the deep, clear water.
+
+“Yes,” he replied slowly, “yes, Molly; he told me a little in a scrappy,
+unsatisfactory way.”
+
+A pained expression came into her eyes for a moment, and then she spoke,
+rather more quickly than was habitual with her, but without raising her
+voice.
+
+“He told you--nothing about Hilda?” she said interrogatively.
+
+He turned and looked down at her.
+
+“No--nothing.”
+
+Then he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw approaching them a
+young man and a maiden whose footsteps had been inaudible upon the
+moss-grown path. The man was of medium height, with an honest brown
+face. He was dressed for riding, and walked with a slight swagger, which
+arose less from conceit than from excessive riding on horseback. The
+maiden was tall and stately, and in her walk there was an old-fashioned
+grace of movement which harmonised perfectly with the old-world
+surroundings. She was looking down, and Christian could not see her
+face; but as she wore no hat, he saw and recognised her hair. This was
+of gold--not red, not auburn, not flaxen, but pure and living gold. The
+sun glinting through the trees shone upon it and gleamed, but in reality
+the hair gleamed without the aid of sunlight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+BROKEN THREADS
+
+
+They came forward, and suddenly the girl raised her face. She made a
+little hesitating movement of non-recognition, and then suddenly her
+face was transformed by a very pleasant smile. There was something
+peculiar in Hilda Carew's smile, which came from the fact that her
+eyelashes were golden, while her eyes were dark blue. The effect
+suggested a fascinating kitten. In repose her face was almost severe in
+its refined beauty, and the set of her lips indicated a certain
+self-reliance which with years might become more prominent if trouble
+should arrive.
+
+“Christian!” she exclaimed, “I am sorry I did not know you.” They shook
+hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.
+
+“Mr. Farrar,” she said; “Mr. Vellacott.”
+
+The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
+Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking
+contradiction to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.
+
+“Tea is ready,” said Molly somewhat hastily; “let us go in.”
+
+Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
+followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion
+found herself compelled to wait for him.
+
+“Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,”
+ said he in a conversational way; “it is quite green, and almost
+transparent.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Molly, moving away tentatively, “we see most peculiar
+effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep.”
+
+He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
+lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
+truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
+cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.
+
+“Yes,” he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether
+the action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At
+length he turned to follow her, but Molly had failed in her object; the
+others had passed out of earshot.
+
+“Tell me,” said Christian in a lowered voice, “who is he?”
+
+“He is the squire of St. Mary Eastern, six miles from here,” she
+replied; “very well off; very good to his mother, and in every way
+nice.”
+
+Christian tore off a small branch which would have touched his forehead
+had he walked on without stooping. He broke it into small pieces, and
+continued throwing up at intervals into the air a tiny stick, hitting it
+with his hand as they walked on.
+
+“And,” he said suggestively, “and--”
+
+“Yes, Christian,” she replied decisively, “they are engaged. Come, let
+us hurry; I always pour out the tea. I told you before, if you remember,
+that I was the only person in the house who did any work.”
+
+When Christian opened his eyes the following morning, the soft hum of
+insects fell on his ear instead of the roar of London traffic. Through
+the open window the southern air blew upon his face. Above the sound of
+busy wings the distant sea sang its low dirge. It was a living
+perspective of sound. The least rustle near at hand overpowered it, and
+yet it was always there--an unceasing throb to be felt as much as heard.
+Some acoustic formation of the land carried the noise, for the sea was
+eight miles away. It was very peaceful; for utter stillness is not
+peace. A room wherein an old clock ticks is infinitely more soothing
+than a noiseless chamber.
+
+Nevertheless the feeling that forced itself into Christian Vellacott's
+waking thoughts was not peaceful. It was a sense of discomfort.
+Town-people expect too much from the country--that is the truth of it.
+They quite overlook the fact that where human beings are there can be no
+peace.
+
+This sudden sense of restlessness annoyed him. He knew it so well. It
+had hovered over his waking head almost daily during the last two years,
+and here, in the depths of the country, he had expected to be without
+it. Moreover, he was conscious that he had not brought the cause with
+him. He had found it, waiting.
+
+There were many things--indeed there was almost everything--to make his
+life happy and pleasant at St. Mary Western. But in his mind, as he woke
+up on this first morning, none of these things found place. He came to
+his senses thinking of the one little item which could be described as
+untoward--thinking of Hilda, and Hilda engaged to be married to Fred
+Farrar. It was not that he was in love with Hilda Carew himself. He had
+scarcely remembered her existence during the last two years. But this
+engagement jarred, and Farrar jarred. It was something more than the
+very natural shock which comes with the news that a companion of our
+youth is about to be married--shock which seems to shake the memory of
+that youth; to confuse the background of our life. It is by means of
+such shocks as these that Fate endeavours vainly to make us realise that
+the past is irrevocable--that we are passing on, and that that which has
+been can never be again. And at the same time we learn something else:
+namely, that the past is not by any means unchangeable. So potential is
+To-day that it not only holds To-morrow in the hollow of its hand, but
+it can alter Yesterday.
+
+Christian Vellacott lay upon his bed in unwonted idleness, gazing
+vaguely at the flying clouds. The window was open, and the song of the
+distant sea rose and fell with a rhythm full of peace. But in this man's
+mind there was no peace. In all probability there never would be
+complete peace there, because Ambition had set its hold upon him. He
+wanted to do more than there was time for. Like many of us, he began by
+thinking that Life is longer than it is. Its whole length is in those
+“long, long thoughts” of Youth. When those are left behind, we settle
+down to work, and the rest of the story is nothing but labour. Vellacott
+resented this engagement because he felt that Hilda Carew had stepped
+out of that picture which formed what was probably destined to be the
+happiest time of his life--his Youth. For the unhappiness of Youth is
+preferable to the resignation of Age. He felt that she had willingly
+resigned something which he would on no account have given up. Above
+all, he felt that it was a mistake. This was, of course, at the bottom
+of it. He probably felt that it was a pity. We usually feel so on
+hearing that a pretty and charming girl is engaged to be married. We
+think that she might have done so much better for herself, and we grow
+pensive or possibly sentimental over her lost opportunity when
+contemplating him in the mirror as he shaves. Like all so-called happy
+events, an engagement is not usually a matter of universal rejoicing.
+Some one is, in all probability, left to think twice about it. But
+Christian Vellacott was not prepared to admit that he was in that
+position.
+
+He was naturally of an observant habit--his father had been
+one of the keenest-sighted men of his day--and he had graduated at the
+subtlest school in the world. He unwittingly fell to studying his
+fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of
+this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little
+scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically
+pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his
+clients.
+
+With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note. The
+squire of St. Mary Eastern was apparently very similar to his fellows.
+He was an ordinary young British squire with a knowledge of horses and a
+highly-developed fancy for smart riding-breeches and long boots. He had
+probably received a fair education, but this had ceased when he closed
+his last school-book. The seeds of knowledge had been sown, but they
+lacked moisture and had failed to grow. He was good-natured, plucky in a
+hard-headed British way, and gentlemanly. In all this there was nothing
+exceptional--nothing to take note of--and Vellacott only remembered the
+limpness of Frederick Farrar's grasp. He thought of this too
+persistently and magnified it. And this being the only mental note made,
+was rather hard on the young squire of St. Mary Eastern.
+
+Vellacott thought of these things while he dressed, he thought of them
+intermittently during the unsettled, noisy, country breakfast, and when
+he found himself walking beside the moat with Hilda later on he was
+still thinking of them.
+
+They had not yet gathered into their hands the threads which had been
+broken years before. At times they hit upon a topic of some slight
+common interest, but something hovered in the air between them. Hilda
+was gay, as she had always been, in a gentle, almost purring way; but a
+certain constrained silence made itself felt at times, and they were
+both intensely conscious of it.
+
+Vellacott was fully aware that there was something to be got over, and
+so instead of skipping round it, as a woman might have done, he went
+blundering on to the top of it.
+
+“Hilda,” he said suddenly, “I have never congratulated you.”
+
+She bent her head in a grave little bow which was not quite English; but
+she said nothing.
+
+“I can only wish you all happiness,” he continued rather vaguely.
+
+Again she made that mystic little motion of the head, but did not look
+towards him, and never offered the assistance of smile or word.
+
+“A long life, a happy one, and your own will,” he added more lightly,
+looking down into the green water of the moat.
+
+“Thank you,” she said, standing quite still beside him.
+
+And then there followed an awkward pause. It was Vellacott who finally
+broke the silence in the only way left to him.
+
+“I like Farrar,” he said. “I am sure he will make you happy. He--is a
+lucky fellow.”
+
+At the end of the walk that ran the whole length of that part of the
+moat which had been allowed to remain intact, she made a little movement
+as if to turn aside beneath the hazel trees and towards the house. But
+he would not let her go. He turned deliberately upon his heel and waited
+for her. There was nothing else to do but acquiesce. They retraced their
+steps with that slow reflectiveness which comes when one walks backwards
+and forwards over the same ground.
+
+There is something eminently conversational in the practice of walking
+to and fro. For that purpose it is better than an arm-chair and a pipe,
+or a piece of knitting.
+
+Occasionally Vellacott dropped a pace behind, apparently with a purpose;
+for when he did so he raised his eyes instantly. He seemed to be slowly
+detailing the maiden, and he frowned a little. She was exactly what she
+had promised to be. The singularly golden hair which he had last seen
+flowing freely over her slight young shoulders had acquired a
+decorousness of curve, although the hue was unchanged. The shoulders
+were exactly the same in contour, on a slightly larger scale; and the
+manner of carrying her head--a manner peculiarly her own, and suggestive
+of a certain gentle wilfulness--was unaltered.
+
+And yet there was a change: that subtle change which seems to come to
+girls suddenly, in the space of a week--of one night. And this man was
+watching her with his analytical eyes, wondering what the change might
+be.
+
+He was more or less a bookworm, and he possibly thought that this
+subject--this pleasant young subject walking beside him in a blue cotton
+dress--was one which might easily be grasped and understood if only one
+gave one's mind to it. Hence the little frown. It denoted the gift of
+his mind. It was the frown that settled over his eyes when he cut the
+pages of a deep book and glanced at the point of his pencil.
+
+He had read many books, and he knew a number of things. But there is one
+subject of which very little can be learnt in books--precisely the
+subject that walked in a blue cotton dress by Christian Vellacott's side
+at the edge of the moat. If any one thinks that book-learning can aid
+this study, let him read the ignorance of Gibbon, comparing it with the
+learning of that cheery old ignoramus Montaigne. And Vellacott was
+nearer to Gibbon in his learning than to Montaigne in his careless
+ignorance of those things that are written in books.
+
+He glanced at her; he frowned and brought his whole attention to bear
+upon her, and he could not even find out whether she was pleased to
+listen to his congratulations, or angry, or merely indifferent. It was
+rather a humiliating position for a clever man--for a critic who knew
+himself to be capable of understanding most things, of catching the
+drift of most thoughts, however imperfectly expressed. He was vaguely
+conscious of defeat. He felt that he was nonplussed by a pair of soft
+round eyes like the eyes of a kitten, and the dignified repose of a pair
+of demure red lips. Both eyes and lips, as well as shoulders and golden
+hair, were strangely familiar and strangely strange by turns.
+
+With one finger he twisted the left side of his moustache into his
+mouth, and, dragging at it with his teeth, distorted his face in an
+unbecoming if reflective manner, which was habitually indicative of the
+deepest attention.
+
+While reflecting, he forgot to be conversational, and Hilda seemed to be
+content with silence. So they walked the length of the moat twice
+without speaking, and might have accomplished it a third time, had
+little Stanley Carew not appeared upon the scene with the impulsive
+energy of his thirteen years, begging Christian to bowl him some really
+swift overhands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+PUPPETS
+
+
+“Ah! It goes. It goes already!”
+
+The speaker--the Citizen Morot--slowly rubbed his white hands one over
+the other.
+
+He was standing at the window of a small house in an insignificant
+street on the southern side of the Seine. He was remarkably calm--quite
+the calmest man within the radius of a mile; for the insignificant
+little street was in an uproar. There was a barricade at each end of it.
+Such a barricade as Parisians love. It was composed of a few overturned
+omnibuses; for the true Parisian is a cynic. He likes overturned things,
+and he loves to see objects of peace converted to purposes of war. He is
+not content that ploughshares be beaten into swords. He prefers
+altar-rails. And so this little street was blocked at either end by a
+barricade of overturned omnibuses, of old hampers and empty boxes, of a
+few loads of second-hand bricks and paving-stones brought from the scene
+of some drainage operations round the corner.
+
+In the street between the barricades, surged, hooted, and yelled that
+wildest and most dangerous of incomprehensibles--a Paris mob.
+Half-a-dozen orators were speaking at once, and no one was listening to
+them. Here and there amidst the rabble a voice was raised at times with
+suspicious persistence.
+
+“_Vive le Roi!_” it cried. “Long live the King!”
+
+A few took up the refrain, but the general tone was negative. It was not
+so much a question of upholding anything as of throwing down that which
+was already up.
+
+“Down with the Republic!” was the favourite cry. “Down with the
+President! Down with everything!”
+
+And each man cried down his favourite enemy.
+
+The Citizen Morot listened, and his contemptuous mouth was twisted with
+a delicate, subtle smile.
+
+“Ah!” he muttered. “The voice of the people. The howling of the wolves.
+Go on, go on, my braves. Cry 'Long live the King,' and soon you will
+begin to believe that you mean it. They are barking now. Let them bark.
+Soon we shall teach them to bite, and then--then, who knows?”
+
+His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he stood there amidst the din
+and hubbub--dreaming. At last he raised his hand to his forehead--a
+prominent, rounded forehead, flat as the palm of one's hand from eyebrow
+to eyebrow, and curving at either side, sharply, back to deep-sunken
+temples.
+
+“Ah!” he exclaimed, with a little laugh; and he drew from an inner
+pocket a delicately scented pocket-handkerchief, with which he wiped his
+brow. “If I get excited now, what will it be when they begin--to bite?”
+
+All this while the orators were shouting their loudest, and the voices
+dispersed throughout the crowd raised at intervals their short, sharp
+cry of--
+
+“Long live the King!”
+
+And the police? There were only two agents attached to the immediate
+neighbourhood, and they were smoking cigars and drinking absinthe in two
+separate cellars, with the door locked on the outside. They were
+prisoners of war of the most resigned type. The room in which stood the
+Citizen Morot was dark, and wisely so. For the Parisian street
+politician can make very pretty practice of a lighted petroleum-lamp
+with an empty bottle or half a brick. The window was wide open, and the
+wooden shutters were hooked back.
+
+The attitude of the man was interested and slightly self-satisfied. It
+suggested that of the manager of a theatre looking down from an
+upper-tier box upon a full house and a faultless stage. At the same time
+he was keeping what sailors call a very “bright look-out” towards either
+end of the street. From his elevated position he was able to see over
+the barricades, and he watched with intense interest the movements of
+two women (or perhaps men disguised as such) who stood in the centre of
+the street just beyond each obstruction.
+
+There was something dramatic in the motionless attitude of these two
+women, standing guard alone in the deserted street, on the wrong side of
+the barricades.
+
+At times Morot leant well out of the window and listened. Then he stood
+back again and contemplated the crowd.
+
+Each orator was illuminated by a naphtha “flare,” which, being held in
+unsteady hands, flickered and wavered, casting strange gleams of light
+over the evil faces upturned towards it. At times one speaker would
+succeed in raising a laugh or extracting a groan, and when he did so
+those listening to his rivals turned and surged towards him. There was
+plenty of movement. It was what the newspapers call an animated
+scene--or a disgraceful scene--according to their political bias.
+
+The Citizen Morot could not hear the jokes nor distinguish the cause of
+the groaning. But he did not seem to mind much. The speeches were not of
+the description to be given in full in the morning papers. There were,
+fortunately, no reporters present. It was the frank eloquence of the
+slaughter-house--the unclad humour of the market.
+
+Suddenly one of the women--she who was posted at the southern end of the
+street--raised both her arms, and the Citizen leant far out of the
+window. He was very eager, and his hawk-like eyes blinked perpetually.
+His hand was raised to his mouth, and the lights of the orators gleamed
+on something that he held in his fingers--something that looked like
+silver.
+
+The woman held her two arms straight up into the air for some moments,
+then she suddenly crossed them twice, turning at the same moment and
+scrambling over the barricade. A long shrill whistle rang out over the
+heads of the mob, and its effect was almost instantaneous. The “flares”
+ disappeared like magic. Dark figures swarmed up the lamp-posts and
+extinguished the feeble lights. The voice of the orator was still.
+Silence and darkness reigned over that insignificant little street on
+the southern side of the Seine. Then came the clatter of cavalry--the
+rattle of horses' feet, and the ominous clank of empty scabbards against
+spur and buckle. A word of command, and a scrambling halt. Then silence
+again, broken only by the shuffling of feet (not too well clad) in the
+darkness between the barricades.
+
+The Citizen Morot leant recklessly out of the window, peering into
+the gloom. He forgot to make use of the delicately scented
+pocket-handkerchief now, and the drops of perspiration trickled slowly
+down his face.
+
+The soldiers shuffled in their saddles. Some of the spirited little
+Arabs pawed the pavement. One of them squealed angrily, and there was a
+slight commotion somewhere in the rear ranks--an equine difference of
+opinion. The officers had come forward to the barricade and were
+consulting together. The question was--what was there behind that
+barricade? It might be nothing--it might be everything. In Paris one can
+never tell. At last one of them determined to see for himself. He
+scrambled up, putting his foot through the window of an omnibus in
+passing. Against the dim light of the street-lamp beyond, his slight,
+straight figure stood out in bold relief. It was a splendid mark for a
+man with chalked sights to his rifle.
+
+“Ah!” muttered the Citizen, “you are all right this time--master, the
+young officer. They are only barking. Next time perhaps it will be quite
+another history.”
+
+The officer turned and disappeared. After the lapse of a few moments a
+dozen words of command were shouted, and upon them followed the sharp
+click of hilt on scabbard as the sabres fell home.
+
+After a pause it became evident that the barricade was being destroyed.
+And then lights flashed here and there. In a compact column the cavalry
+advanced at a trot. The street was empty.
+
+Citizen Morot turned away and sat down on a chair that happened to be
+placed near the window. His finely-drawn eyebrows were raised with a
+questioning weariness.
+
+“Pretty work!” he ejaculated. “Pretty work for--my father's son! So
+grand, so open, so noble!”
+
+He waited there, in the darkness, until the cavalry had been withdrawn
+and the local firemen were at work upon the barricade. Then, when order
+was fully restored, he left the house, walking quietly down the length
+of the insignificant little street.
+
+Ten minutes later he entered the tobacco-shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe.
+Mr. Jacquetot was at his post, behind the counter near the window, with
+the little tin box containing postage-stamps in front of him upon his
+desk. He was always there--like the poor. He laid aside the _Petit
+Journal_ and wished the new-comer a courteous, though breathless,
+good evening.
+
+The salutation was returned gravely and pleasantly. The Citizen Morot
+lingered a moment and remarked that it was a warm evening. He never
+seemed to be in a hurry. Then he passed on into the little room behind
+the shop.
+
+There he found Lerac, the foreman of the slaughter-house. The butcher
+was pale with excitement. His rough clothing was dishevelled; his
+stringy black hair stood up uncouthly in the centre of his head, while
+over his temples it was plastered down with perspiration and suet
+pleasingly mingled.
+
+“Well?” he exclaimed, with triumphant interrogation.
+
+“Good,” said Morot. “Very good. It marches, my friend. It marches
+already.”
+
+“Ah! But you are right. The People see you--it is a power!”
+
+“It is,” acquiesced Morot fervently.
+
+How he hated this man!
+
+“And you stayed to the last?” inquired Lerac. He was rather white about
+the lips for a brave man.
+
+“Till the last,” echoed Morot, taking up some letters addressed to him
+which lay on the table.
+
+“And the street was quite clear before they broke through the barrier?”
+
+“Quite--the People did not wait.” He seemed to resign himself to
+conversation, for he put the letters into his pocket and sat down. “Had
+you,” he inquired, “any difficulty in getting them away?”
+
+“Oh no,” somewhat loftily and quite unsuspicious of irony. “The passages
+were narrow, of course; but we had allowed for that in our organisation.
+Organisation and the People, see you--”
+
+“Yes,” replied Morot. “Organisation and the People.” Like Lerac, he
+stopped short, apparently lost in the contemplation of the vast
+possibilities presented to his mental vision by the mere thought of such
+a combination.
+
+“Well!” exclaimed the butcher energetically, “I must move on. I have
+meetings. I merely wished to hear from you that all was right--that no
+one was caught.”
+
+He was bubbling over with excitement and the sense of his own huge
+importance.
+
+The Citizen Morot raised his secretive eyes.
+
+“Good-night,” he said, with an insolence far too fine for the butcher's
+comprehension.
+
+“Well--good-night. We may congratulate ourselves, I think, Citizen!”
+
+“I congratulate you,” said Morot. “Good-night.”
+
+“Good-night.”
+
+It is probable that, had Lerac looked back, there would have been murder
+done in the small room behind the tobacco-shop. But the contemptuous
+smile soon vanished from the face of the Citizen Morot. No smile
+lingered there long. It was not built upon smiling lines at all.
+
+Then he took up his letters. There were only two of them: one bearing
+the postmark of a small town in Morbihan, the other hailing from
+England.
+
+He replaced the first in his pocket unread; the second he opened. It was
+written in French.
+
+“There are difficulties,” it said. “Can you come to me? Cross from
+Cherbourg to Southampton--train from thence to this place, and ask for
+Signor Bruno, an Italian refugee, living at the house of Mrs. Potter, a
+_ci-devant_ laundress.”
+
+The Citizen Morot rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the back of his
+hand, making a sharp, grating sound.
+
+“That old man,” he said, “is getting past his work. He is losing nerve;
+and nerve is a thing that we cannot afford to lose.”
+
+Then he turned to the letter again.
+
+“Ah!” he exclaimed suddenly; “St. Mary Western. He is there--how very
+strange. What a singular coincidence!”
+
+He fell into a reverie with the letter before him.
+
+“Carew is dead--but still I can manage it. Perhaps it is just as well
+that he is dead. I was always afraid of Carew.”
+
+Then he wrote a letter, which he addressed to “Signor Bruno, care of
+Mrs. Potter, St. Mary Western, Dorset.”
+
+“I shall come,” he wrote, “but not in the way you suggest. I have a
+better plan. You must not know me when we meet.”
+
+He purchased a twenty-five centime stamp from Mr. Jacquetot, and posted
+the letter with his own hand in the little wall-box at the corner of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+FALSE METAL
+
+
+There was, however, no cricket for Stanley Carew that morning. When
+they came within sight of the house Mrs. Carew emerged from an open
+window carrying several letters in her hand. She was not hurrying, but
+walking leisurely, reading a letter as she walked.
+
+“Just think, Hilda dear,” she said, with as much surprise as she ever
+allowed herself. “I have had a letter from the Vicomte d'Audierne. You
+remember him?”
+
+“Yes,” said the girl; “I remember him, of course. He is not the sort of
+man one forgets.”
+
+“I always liked the Viscount,” said Mrs. Carew, pensively looking at the
+letter she held in her hand. “He was a good friend to us at one time. I
+never understood him, and I like men whom one does not understand.”
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+“Yes,” she answered vaguely.
+
+“Your father admired him tremendously,” Mrs. Carew went on to say. “He
+said that he was one of the cleverest men in France, but that he had
+fallen in a wrong season, and would not adapt himself. Had France been a
+monarchy, the Vicomte d'Audierne would have been in a very different
+position.”
+
+Vellacott did not open his own letters. He seemed to be interested in
+the conversation of these ladies. He was not a reserved man, but a
+secretive, which is quite a different thing. Reserve is natural--it
+comes unbidden, and often unwelcome. Secretiveness is born of
+circumstances. Some men find it imperative to cultivate it, although
+their soul revolts within them. In professional or social matters it is
+often merely an expediency--in some cases it almost feels like a crime.
+There are some secrets which cannot be divulged; there are some
+deceptions which a certain book-keeper will record upon the credit side
+of our account.
+
+Like most young men who have got on in their calling, Christian
+Vellacott held his career in great respect. He felt that any sacrifice
+made for it carried its own reward. He thought that it levelled scruples
+and justified deceptions.
+
+He knew this Vicomte d'Audierne by reputation; he wished to hear more of
+him; and so he feigned ignorance--listening.
+
+“What has he written about?” inquired Hilda.
+
+“To ask if he may come and see us. I suppose he means to come and stay.”
+
+Vellacott looked what the French call “contraried.”
+
+“When?” asked the girl.
+
+“On Monday week.”
+
+And then Mrs. Carew turned to her other letters. Vellacott took the
+budget addressed to him, and walked away to where an iron table and some
+chairs stood in the shade of a deodar.
+
+In a few minutes he looked still more put out. He had learnt of the
+disturbances in Paris, and was reading a rather panic-stricken letter
+from Mr. Bodery. The truth was that there was no one in the office of
+the _Beacon_ who knew anything whatever about French home politics
+but Christian Vellacott.
+
+A continuance of these disturbances would necessarily assume political
+importance, and might even lead to a crisis. This meant an instant
+recall for Vellacott. In a crisis his presence in London or Paris was
+absolutely necessary to the _Beacon_.
+
+His holiday had barely lasted twenty-four hours, and there was already a
+question of recall. It happened also that within that short space a
+considerable change had come over Vellacott. The subtle influence of a
+country life, and possibly the low, peaceful song of the distant sea,
+were already beginning to make themselves felt. He actually detected a
+desire to sit still and do nothing--a feeling of which he had not
+hitherto been conscious. He was distinctly averse to leaving St. Mary
+Western just yet. But there is one task-master who knows no mercy and
+makes no allowances. Some of us who serve him know it to our cost, and
+yet we would be content to serve no other. That task-master is the
+Public.
+
+Vellacott was a public servant, and he knew his position.
+
+Somewhat later in the morning Molly and Hilda found him still seated at
+the table, writing with that concentrated rapidity which only comes with
+practice.
+
+“I am sorry,” he said, looking up, “but I must send off a telegram. I
+shall walk in to the station.”
+
+“I was just coming,” said Hilda, “to ask if you would drive me in. I
+want to get some things.”
+
+“And,” added Molly, “there are some domestic commissions--butcher,
+baker, &c.”
+
+Vellacott expressed his entire satisfaction with the arrangement, and by
+the time he had finished his letter the dog-cart was waiting at the
+door.
+
+Several of the family were standing round the vehicle talking in a
+desultory manner, and Vellacott learnt then for the first time that
+Frederick Farrar had left home that same morning to attend a midland
+race-meeting.
+
+It was one of those brilliant summer days when it is quite impossible to
+be pessimistic and exceedingly difficult to compass preoccupation. The
+light breeze bowling over the upland from the sea had just sufficient
+strength to blow away all mental cobwebs. Also, Christian Vellacott had
+suddenly given way to one of those feelings which sometimes come to us
+without apparent reason. The present was joyous enough without the aid
+of the ever-to-be-bright future, and Vellacott felt that, after all,
+French politics and Frederick Farrar did not quite monopolise the world.
+
+Hilda was on this occasion more talkative than usual. There was in her
+manner a new sense of ease, almost of familiarity, which Vellacott could
+not understand. He noticed that she spoke invariably in generalities,
+avoiding all personal matters. Of herself she said no word, though she
+appeared willing enough to answer any question he might ask. She led him
+on to talk of himself and his work, listening gravely to his account of
+the little household at Chelsea. He made the best of this topic, and
+even treated it in a merry vein; but her smile, though sincere enough,
+was of short duration and not in itself encouraging. She appeared to see
+the pathos of it instead of the humour. Suddenly, in the middle of a
+particularly funny story about Aunt Judith, she interrupted him and
+changed the conversation entirely. She did not again refer to his home
+life.
+
+As they were returning in the full glare of the midday sun, they
+descried in front of them the figure of an old man; he was walking
+painfully and making poor progress. Carefully dressed in black
+broadcloth, he wore a soft felt hat of a shape seldom seen in England.
+
+“I believe,” said Hilda, as they approached him, “that is Signor Bruno.
+Yes, it is. Please pull up, Christian. We must give him a lift!”
+
+Christian obeyed her. He thought he detected a shade of annoyance in
+Hilda's voice, with which he fully sympathised.
+
+On hearing the sound of the wheels, the old man looked up in surprise,
+as a deaf person might have been expected to do. This movement showed a
+most charming old face, surrounded by a halo of white hair and beard.
+The features were almost perfect, and might in former days have been a
+trifle cold, by reason of their perfection. Now, however, they were
+softened by the touch of years, and Signor Bruno was the living
+semblance of guilelessness and benevolence.
+
+“How do you do, Signor Bruno?” said Hilda, speaking rather loudly and
+very distinctly. “You are back from London sooner than you expected, are
+you not?”
+
+“Ah! my dear young lady,” he replied, courteously removing his hat and
+standing bareheaded.
+
+“Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London--a
+most terrible place--terrible--terrible--terrible! As I walked along
+just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are blue; yonder
+is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.' This is Italy,
+Miss Hilda--Italy with a northern fairy walking in it!”
+
+Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before
+the old gentleman recovered his breath.
+
+“Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor
+Bruno!”
+
+Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had
+alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart.
+When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed
+upon his face with a quiet persistence which might have been
+embarrassing to a younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something
+unintelligible in reply to the Italian's extensive salutation.
+
+“Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!” said Signor Bruno, as
+he replaced his picturesque hat.
+
+Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then
+came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she
+should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the
+sign, and said urbanely:
+
+“You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!”
+
+“Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!” said Christian.
+
+“But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's
+guest, and I--I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed to
+back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr.
+Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!”
+
+The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a
+peculiar self-abnegating humour.
+
+“If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to
+see why you should sit in front!” said Christian with a laugh, which
+although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion.
+
+“Ah!” replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. “There you have
+worsted me. After that I am silent, and--I obey!”
+
+He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness
+of his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until
+the village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the
+gate of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was
+re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and
+Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said:
+
+“Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various
+local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor
+Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Christian quietly. “He seems very nice.”
+
+Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as
+if to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his
+face, which was not expressive of anything in particular.
+
+“Christian,” she said gravely, “you do not like him?”
+
+Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he
+seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at
+her grave face.
+
+“No,” he replied. “Not very much.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!”
+
+She laughed and shook her head.
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked. “How can there be anything wrong with
+him--anything that would affect us, at all events?”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
+
+“He says he is an Italian?”
+
+“Yes,” she replied.
+
+“I say he is a Frenchman,” said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
+“Italians do not talk English as he talks it.”
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+“Do you know him?” she asked.
+
+“No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
+somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it
+will come to me.”
+
+“When it does come,” said Hilda, with a smile, “you will find that it is
+some one else. I can assure you Signor Bruno is an Italian, and beyond
+that he is the nicest old gentleman imaginable.”
+
+“Well,” replied Christian. “In the meantime I vote that we do not
+trouble ourselves about him.”
+
+The subject was dropped, and not again referred to until after they had
+reached home, when Hilda informed her mother that Signor Bruno had
+returned.
+
+“Oh, indeed,” was the reply. “I am very glad. You must ask
+him to dinner to-morrow evening. Is he not a nice old man, Christian?”
+
+“Very,” replied Christian, almost before the words were out of her lips.
+“Yes, very nice.” He looked across the table towards Hilda with an
+absolutely expressionless composure.
+
+During the following day, which he passed with Sidney and Stanley at sea
+in a little cutter belonging to the Carews, Christian learnt, without
+asking many questions, all that Signor Bruno had vouchsafed in the way
+of information respecting himself. It was a short story and an old one,
+such as many a white-haired Italian could tell to-day. A life, income,
+and energy devoted to a cause which never had much promise of reward.
+Failure, exile, and a life closing in a land where the blue skies of
+Italy are known only by name, where Maraschino is at a premium, and long
+black cigars almost unobtainable.
+
+Hilda was engaged on this day to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mrs.
+Farrar, at Farrar Court. Molly and Christian were to drive over for her
+in the evening. This programme was carried out, but the young people
+lingered rather longer at Farrar Court listening to the quaint,
+old-world recollections of its white-haired hostess than was allowed
+for. Consequently they were late, and heard the first dinner-bell
+ringing as they drove up the lane that led in a casual way to their
+home. (This lane was characteristic of the house. It turned off
+unobtrusively from the high road at right angles with the evident
+intention of leading nowhere.) A race upstairs ensued and a hurried
+toilet. Molly and Christian met on the stairs a few minutes later.
+Christian had won the race, for he was ready, while Molly struggled with
+a silver necklace that fitted closely round her throat. Of course he had
+to help her. While waiting patiently for him to master the intricacies
+of the old silver clasp, Molly said:
+
+“Oh, Christian, there is one place you have not seen yet. Quite close at
+hand too.”
+
+“Ye--es,” he replied absently, as he at length fixed the clasp. “There,
+it is done!”
+
+As he held open the drawing-room door, he said: “What is the place I
+have to see?”
+
+Signor Bruno, who was seated at the far end of the room with Mrs. Carew,
+rose as he heard the door opened, and advanced to meet Molly.
+
+“Porton Abbey,” she said over her shoulder as she advanced into the
+room. “You must see Porton Abbey.”
+
+The Italian shook hands with the new-comers and made a clever, laughing
+reference to Christian's politeness of the previous day. At this moment
+Hilda entered, and as soon as she had returned Signor Bruno's courteous
+salutation Molly turned towards her.
+
+“Hilda,” she said, “we have never shown Christian Porton Abbey.”
+
+“No,” was the reply. “I have been reserving it for some afternoon when
+we do not feel very energetic. Unfortunately, we cannot get inside the
+Abbey now, though.”
+
+“Why?” asked Christian, without looking towards Hilda. He had discovered
+that Signor Bruno was attempting to keep up a conversation with his
+hostess, while he took in that which was passing at the other end of the
+room. The old man was seated, and his face was within the radius of
+light cast by a shaded lamp. Christian, who stood, was in the shade.
+
+“Because it is a French monastery,” replied Molly. “Here,” she added,
+“is a flower for your coat, as you say the button-hole is warped by
+constant pinning in of stalks.”
+
+“Thanks,” he replied, stooping a little in order that she could reach
+the button-hole of his coat. She was in front of him, directly between
+him and Signor Bruno; but he could see over her head. “What sort of
+monastery is it?” he continued conversationally. “I did not know that
+there were any establishments of that sort in England.”
+
+Hilda looked up rather sharply from an illustrated newspaper she
+happened to be studying. She knew that he was not adhering strictly to
+the truth. From her point of vantage behind the newspaper she continued
+to watch Christian, and she realised during the minutes that followed,
+that this was indeed the brilliant young journalist of whose fame Farrar
+had spoken as already known in London.
+
+Signor Bruno's conversation with Mrs. Carew became at this moment
+somewhat muddled.
+
+“There, you see,” said Molly vivaciously, “we endeavour to interest him
+by retailing the simple annals of our neighbourhood, and his highness
+simply disbelieves us!”
+
+“Not at all,” Christian hastened to add, with a laugh. “It simply
+happened that I was surprised. It shall not occur again. But tell me,
+what sort of monastery is it? Dominican? Franciscan? Carmelite?--”
+
+“Oh, goodness! I do not know.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Christian, advancing towards the Italian--“perhaps
+Signor Bruno can tell us.”
+
+“What is that, Mr. Vell'cott?” asked the old gentleman, making a
+movement as if about to raise his curved hand to his ear, but
+restraining himself upon second thoughts.
+
+Hilda noticed that, instead of raising his voice, Christian spoke in the
+same tone, or even lower, as he said:
+
+“We want some details of the establishment at Porton Abbey, Signor
+Bruno.”
+
+The old gentleman made a little grimace expressive of disgust, at the
+same time spreading out his hands as if to ward off something hurtful.
+
+“Ach!” he said, “do not ask me. I know nothing of such people, and wish
+to learn no more. It is to them that my poor country owes her downfall.
+No, no; leave them alone. I always take care of myself
+against--against--what you say--_ces gens-là_!”
+
+Christian awaited the answer in polite silence, and, when Signor Bruno
+had again turned to Mrs. Carew, he looked across the room towards Hilda
+with the same expression of vacant composure that she had noticed on a
+previous occasion. The accent with which Signor Bruno had spoken the few
+words of French was of the purest Parisian, entirely free from the
+harshness which an Italian rarely conquers.
+
+After dinner Hilda went out of the open window into the garden alone.
+Christian, who had seated himself at a small table in the drawing-room,
+did not move. Sidney and his mother were talking with the Italian.
+
+The young journalist was stooping over a book, a vase of flowers stood
+in front of him, but by the movement of his arm it appeared as if he
+were drawing instead of reading. Presently a faint, low whistle came
+from the garden. Though soft, the sound was very clear, and each note
+distinctly given. It was like the beginning of a refrain which broke off
+suddenly and was repeated. Signor Bruno gave a little start and a quick
+upward glance.
+
+“What is that?” he asked, with a little laugh, as if at the delicacy of
+his own nerves.
+
+“Oh,” replied Mrs. Carew, “the whistle, you mean. That is our family
+signal. The children were in the habit of calling each other by that
+means in bygone years. I expect they are in the garden now, and wish us
+to join them.”
+
+Mrs. Carew knew that Molly was not in the garden, but in making this
+intentional mistake she showed the wisdom of her kind.
+
+“It seems to me,” said Signor Bruno, “that the air--the refrain, one
+might call it--is familiar.”
+
+Christian Vellacott smiled suddenly behind his screen of flowers, but
+did not move or look up.
+
+“I expect,” explained Sidney, “that you have heard the air played upon
+the bugle. It is the French 'retraite,' played by the patrol in garrison
+towns at night.”
+
+In the meantime Christian had cut the fly-leaf from the book before him,
+and, after carefully folding it, he placed the paper in his
+breast-pocket. Then he rose and passed out of the open window into the
+garden.
+
+Immediately Signor Bruno asked his hostess a few polite questions
+regarding her guest--what was his occupation, how long he was going to
+stay, and whether she did not agree with him in considering that their
+young friend had a remarkably interesting face. In the course of his
+remarks the old gentleman rose and crossed to the table where Christian
+had been sitting. There was a flower there which he had not seen in
+England before. Absently he took up the book which Christian had just
+been studying, and very naturally turned to the title-page. The fly-leaf
+was gone! When he laid the volume down again he replaced it in the
+identical position in which he had found it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+A CLUE
+
+
+When Christian left the drawing-room he walked quickly down the
+moss-grown path to the moat. Hilda was standing at the edge of the dark
+water, and as he joined her she turned and walked slowly by his side.
+
+“You are a most unsatisfactory person,” she said gravely after a few
+moments.
+
+He looked down at her without replying. His eyes softened for a moment
+into a smile, but his lips remained grave.
+
+“You deliberately set yourself,” she continued, “to shatter one illusion
+after another. You have made me feel quite old and worldly to-night, and
+the worst of it is that you are invariably right. It is most annoying.”
+
+Her voice was only half-playful. There was a shade of sadness in it.
+Christian must have divined her thoughts, for he said:
+
+“Do not let us quarrel over Signor Bruno. I dare say I am wrong
+altogether.”
+
+She looked slowly round. Her eyes rested on the dark surface of the
+water, where the shadows lay deep and still; then she raised them to the
+trees, clearly outlined against the sky.
+
+“I suppose that such practical, matter-of-fact people as you are proof
+against mere outward influences.”
+
+“So I used to imagine, but I am beginning to find that outward things
+are very important after all. In London it seemed only natural that
+every one should live in a hurry, with no time for thought, pushing
+forward and trying to outstrip their neighbours; but in the country it
+seems that things are different. Intellectual people live quiet,
+thoughtful, and even dreamy lives. They get through somehow without
+seeing the necessity for doing something--trying to be something that
+their neighbours cannot be--and no doubt they are happier for it. I am
+beginning to see how they are content to go on with their uneventful
+lives from year to year until the end even comes without a shock.”
+
+“But you yourself would never reach that stage, Christian.”
+
+“No, no, Hilda. I can understand it in others, but for me it is
+different. I have tasted too deeply of the other life. I should get
+restless----”
+
+“You are getting restless already,” she interrupted gravely, “and you
+have not been here two days!”
+
+They were interrupted by Sidney's clear whistle, and a moment later
+Molly came tripping down the path.
+
+“Come along in,” she said; “the old gentleman is going. I was just
+stealing away to join you when Sidney whistled.”
+
+When Signor Bruno reached his home that evening, he threw his hat upon
+the table with some considerable force. His aged landlady, having left
+the lamp burning, had retired to bed. He sank into an armchair, and
+contemplated the square toes of his own boots for some moments. Then he
+scratched his head thoughtfully.
+
+“Sacré nom d'un chien!” he muttered; “where have I seen that face
+before?”
+
+Signor Bruno spoke French when soliloquising, which was perhaps somewhat
+peculiar for an Italian. However proficient a man may be in the mastery
+of foreign tongues, he usually dreams and talks to himself in the
+language he learnt at his mother's knee. He may count fluently in a
+strange tongue, but he invariably works out all mental arithmetic in his
+own. Likewise he prays--if he pray at all--in one tongue only. On the
+other hand, it appears very easy to swear in an acquired language.
+Probably our forefathers borrowed each other's expletives when things
+went so lamentably wrong over the Tower of Babel. Still muttering to
+himself, Signor Bruno presently retired to rest with the remembrance of
+a young face, peculiarly and unpleasantly strong, haunting his dreams.
+
+Shortly after Signor Bruno's departure, Christian happened to be left
+alone in the drawing room with Hilda. He promptly produced from his
+pocket the leaf he had cut from a book earlier in the evening. Unfolding
+the paper, he handed it to her, and said:--
+
+“Do you recognise that?”
+
+She looked at it, and answered without hesitation--
+
+“Signor Bruno!”
+
+The drawing was slight, but the likeness was perfect. The face was in
+profile, and the reproduction of the intelligent features could scarcely
+have been more lifelike in a careful portrait. Christian replaced the
+paper in his pocket.
+
+“You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris,” continued he, “his father
+belonged to the Austrian Embassy!”
+
+“Yes, I remember him!”
+
+“To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is.”
+
+“Yes--and then?”
+
+“When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the
+envelope the name that you will find inside--written by Trevetz.”
+
+For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression
+of wonder upon her face.
+
+“Even if you are right,” she said, “will it affect us? Will it make us
+cease to look upon him as a friend?”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+“Then,” she said slowly, “it has come. You remember now?”
+
+“Yes; I remember now--but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather have
+my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know--or think
+I know--about Bruno!”
+
+Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and
+the subject was perforce dropped.
+
+The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It
+was short, and not very pleasant.
+
+“DEAR VELLACOTT,--Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your
+holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see
+from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in
+the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they
+were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded
+by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained,
+but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present
+somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to
+us, as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge
+of French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject.
+Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course,
+he is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that
+there is plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong
+party has got up the whole affair--perhaps the Church. We must have
+something to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in
+view I must ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on
+receipt of a telegram or letter from me.--Yours,
+
+“C. C. BODERY.”
+
+Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly
+his attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim
+round the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the
+paper. The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If
+Mr. Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace
+would have been left upon the envelope.
+
+Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw
+that his movements had passed unobserved.
+
+“Anything new?” asked Sidney, from the head of the table.
+
+“Well, yes,” was the reply. “There has been a disturbance in Paris. I
+may have to go over there on receipt of a telegram from the office;” he
+stopped, and looked slowly round the table. Hilda's attention was taken
+up by her plate, upon which, however, there was nothing. He leant
+forward, and handed her the toast-rack. She took a piece, but forgot to
+thank him. “I am sorry,” he continued simply, “very sorry that the
+disturbances should have taken place just at this time.”
+
+His voice expressed natural and sincere regret, but no surprise. This
+seemed to arouse Molly's curiosity, for she looked up sharply.
+
+“You do not seem to be at all surprised,” she said.
+
+“No,” he replied; “I am accustomed to this sort of thing, you see. I
+knew all along that there was the chance of being summoned at any time.
+This letter only adds to the chance--that is all!”
+
+“It is a great shame,” said Molly, with a pout. “I am sure there are
+plenty of people who could do it instead of you.”
+
+Christian laughed readily.
+
+“I am sure there are,” he replied, “and that is the very reason why I
+must take the opportunities that fortune offers.”
+
+Hilda looked across the table at him, and noted the smile upon his lips,
+the light of energy in his eyes. The love of action had driven all other
+thoughts from his mind.
+
+“I suppose,” she said conversationally, “that it will in reality be a
+good thing for you if the summons does come.”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, without meeting her glance; “it will be a good thing
+for me.”
+
+“Is that consolatory view of the matter the outcome of philosophy, or of
+virtue?” inquired Molly mischievously.
+
+“Of virtue,” replied Christian gravely, and then he changed the subject.
+
+After breakfast he devoted a short time to the study of some newspaper
+cuttings inclosed in Mr. Bodery's letter. Then he suddenly expressed his
+determination of walking down to the village post office.
+
+“I wish,” he said, “to send a telegram, and to get some newspapers,
+which have no doubt come by the second post. After that you will be
+troubled no more about my affairs.”
+
+“Until a telegram comes,” said Hilda quietly, without looking up from a
+letter she held in her hand. She received one daily from Farrar.
+
+Christian glanced at her with his quick smile.
+
+“Oh,” he said, “I do not expect a telegram. It is not so serious as all
+that. In fact, it is not worth thinking about.”
+
+“You have a most enviable way of putting aside disagreeable subjects,”
+ persisted Hilda, “for discussion at a vague future period.”
+
+Christian was steadily cheerful that morning, imperturbably practical.
+
+“That,” he said, “is the outcome--not of virtue--but of philosophy. Will
+you come to the post office with Stanley and me? I am sure there is no
+possible household duty to prevent you.”
+
+Together they walked through the peaceful fields. Stanley never lingered
+long beside them; something was for ever attracting him aside or ahead,
+and he ran restlessly away. Christian could not help noticing the
+difference in Hilda's manner when they were alone together. The
+semi-sarcastic _badinage_ to which he had been treated lately was
+completely dropped, and her earnest nature was allowed to show itself
+undisguised. Still she was a mystery to him. He was by habit a close
+observer, but her changing moods and humours were to him unaccountable.
+At times she would make a remark the direct contradiction of which was
+shining in her eyes, and at other times she remained silent when mere
+politeness would seem to demand speech. Who knows? Perhaps at all times
+and in all things they understood each other. When their lips were
+exchanging mere nothings--the very lightest and emptiest of
+conversational chaff--despite averted eyes, despite indifferent manner,
+their souls may have been drawn together by that silent bond of sympathy
+which holds through fair and foul, through laughter and tears, through
+life and beyond death.
+
+Christian was not in the habit of allowing himself to become absorbed by
+any passing thoughts, however deep they might be. His mind had adapted
+itself to the work required of it, as the human mind is ever ready to
+do. No deep meditating was required of it, but a quick grasp and a
+somewhat superficial treatment. Journalism is superficial, it cannot be
+otherwise; it must be universal and immediate, and therefore its touch
+is necessarily light. There is nothing permanent about it except the
+ceaseless throb of the printing machine and the warm smell of ink. That
+which a man writes one day may be rendered useless and worthless the
+next, through no carelessness of his, but by the simple course of
+events. He must perforce take up his pen again and write against
+himself. He may be inditing history, and his words may be forgotten in
+twelve hours. There is no time for deep thought, even if such were
+required. He who writes for cursory reading is wise if he writes
+cursorily.
+
+Mr. Bodery's communication in no manner disturbed Christian. He was
+ready enough to talk and laugh, or talk and be grave, as Hilda might
+dictate, while they walked side by side that morning, but she was
+strangely silent. It thus happened that little passed between them until
+they reached the post office. There, he was formally introduced to the
+spry little postmistress, who looked at him sharply over her spectacles.
+
+“I wish, Mrs. Chalder,” he said cheerily, as he scribbled off his
+message to Mr. Bodery, while Hilda made friendly overtures to the
+official cat, “I wish that you would forget to send me the disagreeable
+letters, and only forward the pleasant ones. There was one this morning,
+for instance, which you might very easily have mislaid. Instead of which
+you carefully sent it rather earlier than usual and spoilt my
+breakfast.”
+
+His voice unconsciously followed the swing of his pencil. It seemed
+certain that he was making conversation with the sole purpose of
+entertaining the old woman. With a pleased laugh and a shake of her grey
+curls she replied:
+
+“Ah, I wish I could, sir. I wish I could burn the bad letters and send
+on only the good ones--but they're all alike on the outside. It's as
+hard to say what's inside a letter as it is to tell what's inside a man
+by lookin' on his face.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Christian, reading over what he had just written. “Yes,
+Mrs. Chalder, you are right.”
+
+“But the reason of your letter gettin' earlier this morning was that
+Seen'yer Bruno said he was goin' past the Hall, sir, and would just
+leave the letters at the Lodge. It is a bit out of the carrier's way,
+and that man _do_ have a long tramp every day, sir.”
+
+“Ah, that accounts for it,” murmured the journalist, without looking up.
+He was occupied in crossing his t's and dotting his i's. He felt that
+Hilda was looking at him, and some instinct told him that she saw the
+motive of his conversation, but still he played his part and wore his
+mask of carelessness, as men have done before women, knowing the
+futility of it, since the world began. She never referred to the
+incident, and made no remark whatever with a view to his doing so, but
+he knew that it would be remembered, and in after days he learnt to
+build up a very castle of hope upon that frail foundation.
+
+Hilda had not been paying much attention to what he was saying until
+Signor Bruno's name was mentioned. The old man had hitherto occupied a
+very secondary place in her thoughts. He was no one in her circle of
+possibly interesting people, beyond the fact of his having passed
+through a troubled political phase--a fighter on the losing side. Now he
+had, as it were, assumed a more important _rôle_. The mention of his
+name possessed a new suggestion: and all this, forsooth, because
+Christian Vellacott opined that the benevolent old face was known to
+him.
+
+She began to entertain exaggerated ideas concerning the young
+journalist's thoughts and motives. Twice had she obtained a glimpse into
+the inner chamber of his mind, and on each occasion the result had been
+a vague suggestion of some mental conflict, some dark game of
+cross-purposes between him and Signor Bruno. Remembering this, she, in
+her intelligent simplicity, began to ascribe to Christian's every word
+and action an ulterior motive which in reality did not perhaps exist.
+She noted Christian's calm and direct way of reaching the end he
+desired, and unconsciously she yielded a little to the influence of his
+strength--an influence dangerously fascinating for a strong woman. Her
+strength is so different from that of a man that there is no real
+conflict--it seeks to yield, and glories over its own downfall.
+
+After paying for the telegram, Christian took possession of the bulky
+packet of newspapers addressed to him, and they left the post office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+ON THE SCENT
+
+
+It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the
+conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of
+reviving it.
+
+“Christian,” he began conversationally, “is there any smuggling done
+now? Real smuggling, I mean.”
+
+
+“No, I think not,” replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon
+smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment.
+
+“Why do you ask?” interposed Hilda goodnaturedly.
+
+“Well, I was just wondering,” replied the boy. “It struck me yesterday
+that our boat had been moved.”
+
+“But,” suggested Christian, “it should be very easy to see whether it
+has been dragged over the sand or not.”
+
+“Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks
+whatever on the sand,” argued little Stanley, determined not to be
+cheated out of his smugglers.
+
+“Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and
+enjoyment,” suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was
+saying.
+
+“Then how did he get the padlock open?”
+
+“Smugglers, I suppose,” said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother,
+“would be provided with skeleton keys.”
+
+“Of course,” replied Stanley in an awestruck tone.
+
+“I will tell you what we will do, Stanley,” said Christian. “To-morrow
+morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the
+boat and tell you whether it has been moved.”
+
+“Unless,” added Hilda, “a telegram comes today.”
+
+Christian laughed.
+
+“Unless,” he said gravely, “the world comes to an end this evening.”
+
+It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation,
+that Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened
+the flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper,
+and Mr. Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the
+closely-written sheets upon which his hand was resting.
+
+“It is from Vellacott,” said the editor, and after a moment's thought he
+read aloud as follows:--
+
+“Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the
+whole affair. Will write particulars.”
+
+Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder.
+
+“That young man,” he said, “goes about the world with his eyes
+remarkably wide open, ha-ha!”
+
+Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not
+be delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same
+afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak
+tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the
+south-west, obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle
+breeze blew gaily across the bleak upland--a very different breath from
+that which twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time.
+
+“You would not care about climbing _down_ there, I should think,”
+ observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. “It is a very different
+matter getting up.”
+
+He was standing, gazing lazily up at the brown cliffs with his straw hat
+tilted backwards, his hands in his pockets, and his whole person
+presenting as fair a picture as one could desire of lazy, quiescent
+strength--a striking contrast to the nervous, wiry townsman at his side.
+
+“Hardly,” replied Christian, gazing upwards at the dizzy height. “It is
+rather nasty stuff--slippery in parts and soft.”
+
+He turned and strolled off by Hilda's side. With a climber's love of a
+rocky height he looked upwards as they walked, and she noted the
+direction of his gaze.
+
+Presently they sat on the edge of the boat over which Stanley's sense of
+proprietorship had been so grievously outraged.
+
+“What do you know, Christian, or what do you suspect about Signor
+Bruno?” asked Hilda suddenly.
+
+Stanley was running across the sands towards them, and Christian, seeing
+his approach, avoided the question by a generality.
+
+“Wait a little longer,” he said. “Let me have Trevetz's answer to
+confirm my suspicions, and then I will tell you. Suspicions are
+dangerous things to meddle with. In imparting them to other people it is
+so difficult to remember that they _are_ suspicions and nothing more.”
+
+At this moment Stanley arrived and threw himself down breathlessly on
+the warm sand.
+
+“Chris!” he exclaimed, “come down here and look at these seams in the
+boat--the damp is there still.”
+
+The boat was clinker-built, and where the planks overlapped a slight
+appearance of dampness was certainly discernible. Christian lay lazily
+leaning upon his elbow, sometimes glancing at the boat in obedience to
+Stanley's accusatory finger, sometimes looking towards Hilda, whose eyes
+were turned seawards.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of some words pencilled on the stern-post of
+the boat, and by the merest chance refrained from calling Stanley's
+attention to them. Drawing nearer, he could read them easily enough.
+
+     Minuit vingt-six.
+
+“It certainly looks,” he said rising, “as if the boat had been in the
+water, but it may be that the dampness is merely owing to heavy dew. The
+boat wants painting, I think.”
+
+He knew well enough that little Stanley's suspicions were correct. There
+was no doubt that the boat had been afloat quite recently; but Christian
+knew his duty towards the _Beacon_ and sacrificed his strict sense of
+truth to it.
+
+On the way home he was somewhat pre-occupied--as much, that is to say,
+as he was in the habit of allowing. The pencil scrawl supplied food
+enough for conjectural thought. The writing was undoubtedly fresh, and
+this was the 26th of the month. Some appointment was made for midnight
+by the words pencilled on the boat, and the journalist determined that
+he would be there to see. The question was, should he go alone? He
+watched Sidney Carew walking somewhat heavily along in front of him, and
+decided that he would not seek aid from that quarter. There was no time
+to communicate with Mr. Bodery, so the only course open to him was to go
+by himself.
+
+In a vague manner he had connected the Jesuit party with the
+disturbances in Paris and the importation of the English rifles
+wherewith the crowd had been armed. The gay capital was at that time in
+the hands of the most “Provisional” and uncertain Government imaginable,
+and the home politics of France were completely disorganised. It was
+just the moment for the Church party to attempt a retrieval of their
+lost power. The fire-arms had been recognised by the English authorities
+as some of a pattern lately discarded. They had been stored at Plymouth,
+awaiting shipment to the colonies, where they were to be served out to
+the auxiliary forces, when they had been cleverly removed. The robbery
+was not discovered until the rifles were found in the hands of a Paris
+mob, still fresh and brutal from the horrors of a long course of
+military law. Some of the more fiery of the French journals boldly
+hinted that the English Government had secretly sold the firearms with a
+view to their ultimate gain by the disorganisation of France.
+
+Christian knew as much about affairs in Paris as most men. He was fully
+aware that in the politics of a disturbed country a deed is either a
+crime or a heroism according to circumstances, and he was wise enough to
+await the course of events before thrusting his opinion down the public
+throat. But now he felt that the crisis had supervened, and unwillingly
+he recognised that it was not for him to be idle amidst those rapid
+events.
+
+These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked inland from the Cove, and
+rendered his answers to Stanley's ceaseless flow of questions upon all
+conceivable subjects somewhat vague and unreliable. Hilda was walking
+with them, and divided with Christian the task of supplying her small
+brother with varied information.
+
+As they were approaching the Hall, Christian discerned two figures upon
+the smooth lawn, evidently coming towards them. At the same moment
+Stanley perceived them.
+
+“I see Fred Farrar and Mr. Signor Bruno,” he exclaimed.
+
+Christian could not resist glancing over the little fellow's head
+towards Hilda, though he knew that it was hardly a fair action. Hilda
+felt the glance but betrayed no sign. She was looking straight in front
+of her with no change of colour, no glad smile of welcome for her
+stalwart lover.
+
+“I wonder why she never told me,” thought Christian.
+
+Presently he said, in an airy, conversational way: “I did not know
+Farrar was coming back so--so soon.”
+
+He knew that by this early return Farrar was missing an important day of
+the race-meeting he had been attending, but did not think it necessary
+to remark upon the fact.
+
+“Yes,” replied Hilda. “He does not like to leave his mother for many
+days together.” The acutest ears could have detected no lowering of the
+voice, no tenderness of thought. She was simply stating a fact; but she
+might have been speaking of Signor Bruno, so cool and unembarrassed was
+her tone.
+
+“I am glad he is back,” said Christian thoughtlessly. It was a mere
+stop-gap. The silence was awkward, but he possessed tact enough to have
+broken it by some better means. Instantly he recognised his mistake, and
+for a moment he felt as if he were stumbling blindfold through an
+unknown country. He experienced a sudden sense of vacuity as if his mind
+were a blank and all words futile. It was now Stanley's turn to break
+the silence, and unconsciously he did it very well.
+
+“I wonder,” he said speculatively, “whether he has brought any chocolate
+creams?”
+
+Hilda laughed, and the smile was still hovering in her eyes when she
+greeted the two men. Stanley ran on into the house to open a parcel
+which Farrar told him was awaiting inspection. It was only natural that
+Hilda should walk on with the young squire, leaving Bruno and Christian
+together. The old man lingered obviously, and his companion took the
+hint readily enough, anticipating some enjoyment.
+
+“To you, Mr. Vellacott,” said the Italian, with senile geniality, “to
+you whose life is spent in London this must be very charming, very
+peaceful, and--very disorganising, I may perhaps add.”
+
+Christian looked at his companion with grave attention.
+
+“It is very enjoyable,” he replied simply.
+
+Signor Bruno mentally trimmed his sails, and started off on another
+tack.
+
+“Our young friends,” he said, indicating with a wave of his expressive
+hand Hilda and Farrar, “are admirably suited to each other. Both young,
+both handsome, and both essentially English.”
+
+“Yes,” answered Christian, with a polite display of interest: “and,
+nevertheless, the Carews were all brought up and educated in France.”
+
+“Ah!” observed the old man, stopping to raise the head of a “Souvenir de
+Malmaison,” of which he inhaled the odour with evident pleasure. The
+little ejaculation, and its accompanying action, were admirably
+calculated to leave the hearer in doubt as to whether mere surprise was
+expressed or polite acquiescence in the statement of a known fact.
+
+“Yes,” added Christian, deliberately. He also stooped and raised a white
+rose to his face, thus meeting Signor Bruno upon his own ground. The
+Italian looked up, and the two men smiled at each other across the rose
+bush; then they turned and walked on.
+
+“You also know France?” hazarded Signor Bruno.
+
+“Yes; if I were not an Englishman I should choose to be a Frenchman.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Now with me,” said Signor Bruno frankly, “it is different. If I were
+not an Italian (which God forbid!) I think--I think, yes, I am sure, I
+would by choice have been born an Englishman.”
+
+“Ah!” observed Christian gravely, and Signor Bruno turned sharply to
+glance at his face. The young Englishman was gazing straight in front of
+him earnestly, with no suspicion upon his lips of the incredulous smile
+which seemed somehow to have lurked there when he last spoke. The
+Italian turned away dissatisfied, and they walked on a few paces in
+silence, until he spoke again, reflectively:--
+
+“Yes,” he said, “there is a quality in the English character which to me
+is very praiseworthy. It is a certain directness of purpose. You know
+what you wish to do, and you proceed calmly to do it, without stopping
+to consider what your neighbours may think of it. Now with the Gallic
+races--for I take this virtue of straightforwardness as Teutonic--and in
+my own country especially, men seek to gain their ends by less open
+means.”
+
+They were now walking up a gentle incline to the house, which was built
+upon the buried ruins of its ancient predecessor, and Signor Bruno was
+compelled to pause in order to gain breath.
+
+“But,” interposed Christian softly, “you are now talking not so much of
+the people as of the Church.”
+
+Again the Italian looked sharply up, and this time he met his
+companion's eyes fixed quietly on his face. He shrugged his shoulders
+deprecatingly and spread out his delicate hands.
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” he said, with engaging frankness. “I am afraid
+you are. But you must excuse a little ill-feeling in a man such as I,
+with a past such as mine has been, and loving his country as I do.”
+
+“I am afraid,” continued Christian, “that foreigners find our bluntness
+very disagreeable and difficult to meet; but I know that they frequently
+misjudge us on the same account. It is to our benefit, so we cannot
+complain.”
+
+“In what way do we misjudge you?” asked Signor Bruno genially. They were
+almost on the threshold of the drawing-room window, which stood
+invitingly open, and from which came the sounds of cups and saucers
+being mated.
+
+“You give us credit for less intelligence than we in reality possess,”
+ said Christian with a smile, as he stood aside to let his companion pass
+in first.
+
+Whatever influences may have been at work among those congregated at the
+Hall during the half-hour or so occupied by afternoon tea, no sign
+appeared upon the surface. Molly as usual led the chorus of laughter.
+Hilda smiled her sweet “kittenish” smile. Signor Bruno surpassed himself
+in the relation of innocent little tales, told with a true southern
+“verve” and spirit, while Fred Farrar's genial laugh filled in the
+interstices reliably. Grave and unobtrusive, Christian moved about among
+them. He saw when Molly wanted the hot water, and was invariably the
+first to detect an empty cup. He laughed softly at Signor Bruno's
+stories, and occasionally capped them with a better, related in a
+conciser and equally humorous manner. It was to him that Farrar turned
+for an encouraging acquiescence when one of his latest Newmarket
+anecdotes threatened to fall flat, and with it all he found time for an
+occasional spar with Signor Bruno, just by way of keeping that inquiring
+gentleman upon his guard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+BURY BLUFF
+
+
+As Christian walked rapidly across the uneven turf towards the sea at
+midnight, his thoughts were divided between a schoolboy delight in the
+adventurous nature of his expedition and an uncomfortable sensation of
+surreptitiousness. He was not accustomed to this sort of work, and felt
+remarkably like a thief. If by some mischance his absence was discovered
+at the Hall, it would be difficult to account for it unless he played
+the part of a temporary lunatic. Fortunately his window communicated
+easily enough with the garden by means of a few stone steps, but
+visitors are not usually in the habit of leaving their bedrooms in order
+to take the air at midnight. Thinking over these things in his rapid and
+rather superficial way, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
+
+The night was clear and starlit; the air soft and very pleasant, with a
+faint breath of freshness from the south-west. The moon, being well upon
+the wane, would not rise for an hour or more, but the heavens were
+glowing with the gentler light of stars, and on earth the darkness was
+of that transparent description which sailors prefer to the brightest
+moonlight.
+
+Christian Vellacott had worked out most problems in life for himself.
+Taken as a whole, his solutions had been fairly successful--as
+successful as those of most men. If his views upon things in general
+were rather photographic--that is to say, hard, with clearly defined
+shadows--it was owing to his father's somewhat cynical training and to
+the absence of a mother's influence. Elderly maiden ladies, with
+sufficient time upon their hands to manage other people's affairs in
+addition to their own, complained of his want of sympathy, which may be
+read in the sense of stating that he neither sought theirs nor asked
+advice upon questions connected with himself. This self-reliance was the
+inevitable outcome of his life at home and at the office of the
+_Beacon_. Admirable as it may be, independence can undoubtedly be
+carried to an unpleasant excess--unpleasant that is for home life. Women
+love to see their men-folk a trifle dependent upon them.
+
+Christian was in the midst of a problem as he walked across the
+tableland that stretched from St. Mary Western to the sea. That problem
+absorbed more of his attention than the home politics of France; it
+required a more careful study than any article he had ever penned for
+the _Beacon_. It gave him greater anxiety than Aunt Judy and Aunt Hester
+combined. Yet it was comprised in a single word. A single arm could
+encompass the whole of it. The single word--Hilda.
+
+Leaving the narrow road, he presently struck the little pathway leading
+to the Cove. Suddenly he stopped, and stood motionless. There--not
+twenty yards from him--was the still figure of a man. Behind Christian
+the land rose gradually to some considerable height, so that he stood in
+darkness, while against the glowing sky the figure of this watcher was
+clearly defined in hard outline. Instinctively crouching down and
+seeking the covert of a few low bushes, Christian decreased the
+intervening distance by a few yards. The faint hope that it might prove
+to be a coastguard was soon dispelled. The heavy clothing and loose
+thigh-boots were those of a fisherman. The huge “cache-nez” which lay in
+coils upon his shoulders and completely protected the neck and throat,
+was such as is worn by the natives of the Côtes-du-Nord.
+
+The sea boomed forth its melancholy song, far down in the black depths
+beyond. The tide was high, and the breeze freshening every moment.
+Christian could have crept up to the man's very feet without being
+detected. Lying still upon the short, dry grass, he watched for some
+moments.
+
+From the man's clumsy attitude it was almost possible to divine his
+slow, mindless nature--for there is expression in the very turn of a
+man's leg as he stands--and it was easy to see that he was guarding the
+little path down the cliff to the Cove.
+
+He had been posted there, and evidently meant to stay till called away.
+
+There was only one way, now, to the Cove, and that was down the face of
+the cliff: the way that Christian had that very afternoon pronounced so
+hazardous. By day it was dangerous enough; by night it was almost an
+impossibility.
+
+He crept noiselessly along to the eastward, so that the watcher stood
+upon the windward side of him, and reaching the brink he peered over
+into the darkness. Of course he could discern nothing. The sea rose and
+fell with a monotonous roar; overhead the stars twinkled as merrily as
+they have twinkled over the strifes of men from century to century.
+
+Quietly he knelt upright and buttoned his coat with some care. Then
+without a moment's hesitation he crept to the edge and cautiously
+disappeared into the grim abyss of darkness. Slowly and laboriously he
+worked his way down, feeling for each foothold in advance. Occasionally
+he muttered impatiently to himself at the slowness of his progress. He
+knew that the strata of soft sandstone trended downwards at an easy
+angle, and with consummate skill took full advantage of his knowledge.
+Occasionally he was forced to progress sideways with his face to the
+rock and hands outstretched till his fingers were cramped, and the
+feeling known as “pins and needles” assailed his arms. Then he would
+rest for some moments, peering into the darkness below him all the
+while. Once or twice he dropped a small stone cautiously, holding it at
+arm's length. When the tiny messenger touched earth soon after leaving
+his hand, he continued his downward progress. Once, no sound followed
+for some seconds, and then it was only a distant concussion far down
+beside the sea. With an involuntary shudder, the climber turned and made
+his way upwards and sideways again, before venturing to descend once
+more.
+
+For half an hour he continued his perilous struggle, till his strong
+arms were stiff and his fingers almost powerless. With marvellous
+tenacity he held to his purpose. Never since leaving the summit had he
+been able to rest both hands at once. With a dogged, mechanical
+endurance which is essentially characteristic of climbers and
+mountaineers, he lowered himself, inch by inch, foot by foot. Louder and
+louder sang the sea, as if in derision at his petty efforts, but through
+his head there rushed another sound infinitely more terrible: a
+painful, continuous buzz, which seemed to press upon his temples. A dull
+pain was slowly creeping up the muscles of his neck towards his head.
+All these symptoms the climber knew. The buzzing in his ears would never
+cease until he could lie down and breathe freely with every muscle
+relaxed, every sinew slack. The dull ache would creep up until it
+reached his brain, and then nothing could save him--no strength of will
+could prevent his fingers from relaxing their hold.
+
+“Sish--sish, sish--sish!” laughed the waves below. Placidly the stars
+held on their stately course--each perhaps peopled by millions of its
+own--young and old, tame and fiery--all pursuing shadows as we do here.
+
+“This is getting serious,” muttered Christian, with a pitiful laugh. The
+perspiration was running down his face, burning his eyes, and dripping
+from his chin. With straining eyes he peered into the night. Close
+beneath him there was a ledge of some breadth. It was not flat, but
+inclined upwards from the face of the cliff, thus forming a shelf of
+solid stone. For some seconds he stared continuously at this, so as to
+reduce to a minimum the chance of being mistaken. Then with great
+caution he slid down the steep incline of smooth stone and landed
+safely. The glissade lasted but a moment, nevertheless it recalled to
+his mind a picture which was indelibly stamped in his memory. Years
+before he had seen a man slide like this, unintentionally, after a false
+step. Again that picture came to him--unimpressionable as his life had
+rendered him. Again he saw the glittering expanse of snow, and on it the
+broad, strong figure of the Vaudois guide sliding down and down, with
+madly increasing speed--feet foremost, skilful to the last. Again he
+felt the thrill which men cannot but experience at the sight of a man,
+or even of a dumb beast, fighting bravely for life. Again he saw the
+dull gleam of the uplifted ice-axe as the man dealt scientific blow
+after blow on the frozen snow, attempting to arrest his terrible career.
+And again in his mind's eye the pure expanse of spotless white lay
+before him, scarred by one straight streak, marking where the taciturn
+mountaineer had vanished over the edge of the precipice to his certain
+doom.
+
+Christian lay like a half-drowned man upon the shelving ledge, slowly
+realising his position. He calculated that he could not yet be half-way
+down, and his strength was almost exhausted. Yet, as he lay there, no
+thought of waiting for daylight, no question of retreat entered his
+stubborn West-country brain. The exploit still possessed for him the
+elements of a good joke, to be related thereafter in such a manner as
+would enforce laughter.
+
+Suddenly--within the softer sound of the sea below--a harsh, grating
+noise struck his ears. It was to him like the sound made by a nailed
+boot upon rock. It was as if another were following him down the face of
+the cliff. In a second he was upon his feet, his weariness a thing
+forgotten. Overhead, against the starlit sky, he could define the line
+of rock with its sharp, broken angles and uncouth turns. Not thirty feet
+above him something was moving. His first feeling was one of intense
+fear. Every climber knows that it is easier to pass a difficult corner
+than to stand idle, watching another do it. Slowly the dark form came
+downwards, and suddenly, with a quick sense of unutterable relief,
+Christian saw the black line of a tightened rope. When it was barely ten
+feet above him he saw that the object was no man, but a square case. In
+a flash of thought he divined what the box contained, and unhesitatingly
+ran along the ledge towards it. As it descended he seized it with both
+hands and swung it in towards himself. With pendulum-like motion it
+descended, and at last touched the rock at his feet. As this took place
+he grasped the rope with both hands and threw his entire weight upon it,
+hauling slowly in, hand over hand. So quickly and deftly was this
+carried out that those lowering overhead were deceived, and continued to
+pay out the rope slowly. Steadily Christian hauled in, the slack falling
+in snake-like coils at his feet. Only being able to guess at his
+position on the cliff, it was no easy matter to calculate how much rope
+it was necessary to take in in order to carry out the deception.
+
+At length he ceased abruptly, and proceeded to untie the knots round the
+bale. Then, after the manner of a sailor who is working out of sight
+with a life-line, he jerked the rope, which immediately began to ascend
+rapidly and with irregularity. Coil after coil ran easily away, and at
+last the frayed end passed into the darkness above Christian's head. He
+stood there watching it, and when it had disappeared he burst into a low
+hoarse laugh which suddenly broke off into a sickening gurgle, and he
+fell sideways and backwards on to the box, clutching at it with his
+nerveless fingers.
+
+When he recovered his faculties his first sensation was one of great
+cold. The breeze had freshened with the approach of dawn, and blowing
+full upon him as he lay bathed in perspiration, the effect was like that
+of a refrigerator. He moved uneasily, and found that he was lying on the
+stone ledge _outside_ the box, from which he had fallen. After a moment,
+he rose rapidly to his feet as if desirous of dismissing the memory of
+his own collapse, and turned his attention to the bundle. Beneath the
+rough covering of canvas, which was not sewn but merely lashed round, it
+was easy enough to detect the shape of the case.
+
+“What luck--what wonderful luck,” he muttered, as he groped round the
+surface of the bundle.
+
+Indeed it seemed as if everything had arranged itself for his special
+benefit and advantage.
+
+The three men whose duty it had been to lower the case coiled up their
+rope and started off on foot inland, after telling the sentinel
+stationed at the head of the little path to rejoin his boat. This the
+man was only too willing to do at once. He was a semi-superstitious
+Breton of no great intelligence, who vastly preferred being afloat in
+his unsavoury yawl to climbing about unknown rocks in the dark. On the
+beach, he found his two comrades, to whom he gruffly imparted the
+information that they were to go on board.
+
+“Had the 'monsieur' said nothing else?”
+
+“No, the 'monsieur' said nothing else.”
+
+The Breton intellect is not, as a rule, acute. Like sheep the three men
+proceeded to carry up from the water's edge Stanley's boat, which was
+required to carry the heavy case, their own dinghy being too small. This
+done, they rowed off silently to the yawl, which was rolling lazily in
+the trough of the sea, a quarter of a mile from the shore. Once on board
+they were regaled with some choice French profanity from the lips of a
+large man in a sealskin cap and a dirty woollen muffler. This gentleman
+they addressed as the “patron,” and, with clumsy awe, informed him that
+they had waited at the same spot as before, but nothing had come, until
+at length Hoel Grall arrived with instructions from the “monsieur” to go
+on board. Whereupon further French profanity, followed by unintelligible
+orders, freely interlarded with embellishments of a forcible tenor.
+
+As the yawl swung slowly round and stood out to sea, Christian turned to
+climb up Bury Bluff. He found that he had in reality made very little
+progress in descending. Before leaving the case, he edged it by degrees
+nearer to the base of the ledge, which would render it invisible from
+the beach. The ascent was soon accomplished, and after a cautious search
+he concluded that no one was about, so set off home at a rapid pace.
+
+Before he reached the Hall the light of coming day was already creeping
+up into the eastern sky. All nature was stirring, refreshed with the
+balmy dew and coolness of the night. Far up in the higher branches of
+the Weymouth pines, the wrens were awake, calling to each other with
+tentative twitter, and pluming themselves the while for another day of
+sunshine and song.
+
+Like a thief Christian hurried on, and creeping into his bedroom window,
+was soon sleeping the dreamless, forgetful sleep of youth.
+
+By seven o'clock he was awake with all the quick realisation of a
+Londoner. In the country men wake up slowly, and slowly gather together
+their senses after an all-sufficing sleep of ten hours. In cities, five,
+four, or even three are sufficient for the unfatigued body and the
+restless mind. Men wake up quickly, and are at once in full possession
+of their faculties. It is, after all, a mere matter of habit.
+
+Christian had slept sufficiently. He rose quite fresh and strong, and
+presently sat down, coatless to write.
+
+Page after page he wrote, turning each leaf over upon its face as it was
+completed--never referring back, never hesitating, and only occasionally
+raising his pen from the paper. Line after line of neat, small writing,
+quite different from what his friends knew in letters or on envelopes,
+flowed from his pen. It was his “press” handwriting, plain, rapid, and
+as legible as print. The punctuation was attended to with singular care:
+the commas broad and heavy, the colons like the kisses in a child's
+letter, round and black. Once or twice he smiled as he wrote, and
+occasionally jerked his head to one side critically as he re-read a
+sentence.
+
+In less than two hours it was finished. He rose from his seat, and
+walked slowly to the window. Standing there he gazed thoughtfully across
+the bare, unlovely tableland towards the sea. He had written many
+hundreds of pages, all more or less masterly; he had read criticisms
+upon his own work saying that it was good; and yet he knew that the
+best--the best he had ever written--lay upon the table behind him. Then
+he turned and shook the loose leaves together symmetrically. Pensively
+he counted them. He was young and strong; the world and life lay before
+him, with their infinite possibilities--their countless opportunities to
+be seized or left. He looked curiously at the written pages. The writing
+was his own; the form of every letter was familiar; the heavy
+punctuation and clean, closely written lines such as the compositor
+loved to deal with; and while he turned the leaves over he wondered if
+ever he would do better, for he knew that it was good.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A WARNING WORD
+
+
+As the breakfast-bell echoed through the house Christian ran downstairs.
+He met Hilda entering the open door with the letters in her hand.
+
+“Down already?” he exclaimed.
+
+“Yes,” she replied incautiously, “I wished to get the letters early.”
+
+“And, after all, there is nothing for you?”
+
+“No,” she replied. “No, but--”
+
+She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly,
+and apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a
+peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied
+the envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address.
+Presently he raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a
+letter daintily between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little
+puffs of her pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the
+infantile amusement immensely.
+
+He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside
+for her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill
+operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
+
+“Well?” she said interrogatively.
+
+“What?”
+
+“And Mr. Trevetz's answer--I suppose it is one of those letters?”
+
+“Oh yes!” he replied. “I had forgotten my promise.”
+
+He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
+
+“One is from Trevetz,” he said slowly, “and the other from Mrs. Strawd.”
+
+“Nothing from Mr. Bodery?” asked she indifferently.
+
+He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's
+letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his
+occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:--
+
+“No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet.”
+
+“I am very glad,” she murmured conventionally.
+
+“And I,” he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
+
+She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it
+critically.
+
+“M-a-x,” she read; “how badly it is written! Max--Max Talma--is that
+it?”
+
+“Yes,” he answered gravely, “that is it.”
+
+With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open
+the envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf
+of a novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as
+she unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the
+open sketch to him. At the foot was written:--
+
+“Max Talma--look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
+
+“In haste, C.T.”
+
+Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his
+pocket. “Trevetz writes in a good forcible style,” he said, turning to
+greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an
+instant her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as
+she caught sight of her sister and Christian standing together.
+
+“Are you just down?” she asked carelessly.
+
+“Yes,” answered Christian, still holding her hand.
+
+“I have just come down.”
+
+As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the
+station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was
+printed Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the
+guard, who would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at
+Paddington, and the editor of the _Beacon_ would receive it by four
+o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was
+satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a
+brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon.
+This was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer.
+The lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family
+assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were
+left open for those who wished to pass in and out.
+
+Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework,
+while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy,
+while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney
+was reading in his own room--reading for a vague law examination which
+always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.
+
+Christian was seated at the piano, playing by snatches and turning over
+the brown leaves of some very old music, unearthed from a lumber-room by
+Mrs. Carew for his benefit. He waited for no thanks or comment;
+sometimes he read a few bars only, sometimes a page. He appeared to have
+forgotten that he had an audience. Presently he rose, leaving the music
+in disorder. Hilda had been called away some time before by an old
+village woman requiring medicaments for unheard-of symptoms. Christian
+looked slowly round the room, then raising his hand he dexterously
+caught a huge moth which had flown past his face.
+
+As he crossed the room towards the open window, with a view of
+liberating the moth, a low whistle reached his ear. The refrain was that
+of the familiar “retraite.” Hilda had evidently gone out to the moat by
+another door. Bowing his head, he passed between the muslin curtains and
+disappeared in the darkness. The sound of his footsteps died away almost
+immediately amidst the rustle of branch and leaf already crisp with
+approaching change.
+
+It was Stanley's bed-time. Mechanically, Molly kissed her brother,
+continuing to work thoughtfully.
+
+In a few minutes the door opened and Hilda entered the room. She came up
+to the table, and standing there with her hands resting upon some pieces
+of Molly's work, she gave a graphic description of the old woman's
+complaints and maladies. She stood quite close to Molly, and told her
+story to Mrs. Carew merrily, failing to notice that her sister had
+ceased sewing, and was listening with a surprised look in her eyes. When
+the symptoms had been detailed and laughed over, Hilda turned quietly
+and passed out into the garden. With fearless familiarity she ran
+lightly down the narrow pathway towards the moat, but no signal-whistle
+greeted her. The leaves rustled and whispered overhead; the water lapped
+and gurgled at her feet, but there was no sign or sound of life.
+
+Silent and motionless she stood, a tall fair form clad in white, amidst
+the universal, darkness. So silent and so still that it might have been
+the shade of some fair maid of bygone years mourning the loss of her
+true knight, who in all the circumstances of war had crossed that same
+moat never to return.
+
+Presently a sudden feeling of loneliness, a new sense of fear, came over
+Hilda. All around was so forbidding. The water at her feet was so black
+and mysterious. She gave a soft low whistle identical with that which
+had called Christian out twenty minutes before, but it remained
+unanswered, and through the rustling leaves she sped towards the house.
+From the open window a glow of rosy light shone forth upon the flowers,
+imparting to all alike a pallid pink, and dimly defining the grey
+tree-trunks across the lawn. As Hilda stepped between the curtains, the
+servants entered the drawing-room in solemn Indian file for evening
+prayers.
+
+Mrs. Carew looked up from the Bible which lay open before her, and said
+to Hilda:--
+
+“Where is Christian?”
+
+“I don't know, mother; he is not in the garden,” answered the girl,
+crossing the room to her own particular chair.
+
+Sidney rose from his seat, and going to the window, sent his loud clear
+whistle away into the night. His broad figure remained motionless for
+some minutes, almost filling up the window; then he silently resumed his
+seat.
+
+Mrs. Carew smoothed down the silken book-marker, and began reading in a
+low voice. It is to be feared that the Psalmist's words of joy were not
+heard with understanding ears that night. A short prayer followed;
+softly and melodiously Mrs. Carew asked for blessings upon the bowed
+heads around her, and the servants left the room.
+
+“Have you not seen Christian since you went to see Mrs. Sender, Hilda?”
+ asked Molly, at once.
+
+“No,” replied Hilda, arranging the music into something like order upon
+the piano.
+
+“He went out about half an hour ago, in answer to your whistle.”
+
+Hilda turned her head as if about to reply hastily, but checked herself,
+and resumed her task of setting the music in order.
+
+“How could I whistle,” she asked gently, “when I was in the kitchen
+doling out medicated cotton-wool to Mrs. Sender?”
+
+Molly looked puzzled.
+
+“Did _you_ whistle, Sidney?” she asked.
+
+“I--no; I was half-asleep over a law-book in my own room.”
+
+“I expect he has gone for a stroll, and forgotten the time,” suggested
+Mrs. Carew reassuringly, as she sat down to work again.
+
+“But what about the whistle; are you sure you heard it, Molly?” asked
+Hilda, speaking rather more quickly than was habitual with her. She
+walked towards the window and drew aside the curtain, keeping her back
+turned towards the room.
+
+“Yes,” answered Molly uneasily. “Yes--I heard it, and so did he, for he
+went out at once.”
+
+Sidney stood awkwardly with his shoulder against the mantelpiece,
+listening in a half-hearted way to his sisters' conversation. With a
+heavy jerk he threw himself upright and slowly crossed the room. He
+stood for some moments immediately behind Hilda without touching her.
+Then he raised his hand and with gentle, almost caressing pressure round
+her waist, he made her step aside so that he could pass out. He was a
+singularly undemonstrative man, rarely giving way to what he considered
+the weakness of a caress. Fortunately, however, for their own happiness,
+his womenfolk understood him, and especially between himself and Hilda
+there existed a peculiar unspoken sympathy.
+
+In the ordinary way he would have mumbled--
+
+“Le'mme out!”
+
+On this occasion he touched her waist gently, and the caress almost
+startled her. It seemed like a confession that he shared the vague
+anxiety which she concealed so well.
+
+With the charity of maternal love, which is by no means so blind as is
+generally supposed, Mrs. Carew often said of Sidney that he invariably
+rose to the occasion; and Mrs. Carew's statements were as a rule
+correct. His slowness was partly assumed; his indifference was a mere
+habit. The assumption of the former saved him infinite worry and
+responsibility; the habit of indifference did away with the necessity of
+coming to a decision upon general questions. This state of mind may, to
+townsmen, be incomprehensible. Certain it is that such as are in that
+condition are not found among the foremost dwellers in cities. But in
+the country it is a different matter. Such cases are only too common,
+and (without breath of disparagement) they are usually to be found in
+households where one man finds himself among several women--be the
+latter mother and sisters, or wife and sisters-in-law.
+
+The man may be a thorough sportsman, he may be an excellent landlord and
+a popular squire, but within his own doors he is overwhelmed. Chivalry
+bids him give way to the wishes and desires of some woman or other, and
+if he be a sportsman he is necessarily chivalrous. When one is tired
+after a long day in the saddle or with a gun, it is so much easier to
+acquiesce and philosophically persuade oneself that the matter is not
+worth airing an adverse opinion over. This is the beginning, and if any
+beginning can look forward to great endings it is that of a habit.
+
+It would appear that Sidney Carew's occasion had come at last, for once
+outside the window he changed to a different being. The lazy slouch
+vanished from his movements, his eyes lost their droop, and he held his
+head erect.
+
+He made his way rapidly to the stable, and there, without the knowledge
+of the grooms, he obtained a large hurricane-lamp, lighted it, and
+returned towards the house. From the window Hilda saw him pass down a
+little path towards the moat, with the lamp swinging at his side, while
+the shadows waved backwards and forwards across the lawn.
+
+The mind is a strange storehouse. However long a memory may have been
+warehoused there, deep down beneath piles of other remembrances and
+conceits, it is generally to be found at the top when the demand comes,
+ready for use--for good or evil. A dim recollection was resuscitated in
+Sidney's mind. An unauthenticated nursery tale of a departing guest
+leaving with a word of joy upon his lips and warm comfort in his heart,
+turning from the glowing doorway and walking down the little pathway
+straight into the moat.
+
+Christian, however, was an excellent swimmer; he knew every inch of the
+pathway, every stone round the moat. That he should have been drowned in
+ten feet of clear water, with an easy landing within ten yards, seemed
+the wildest impossibility. Of course such things have happened, but
+Christian Vellacott was essentially wide awake, and unlikely to come to
+mishap through his own carelessness. Of all these things Sidney thought
+as he walked rapidly towards the moat, and in particular he pondered
+over Molly's statement that she had heard Hilda whistle. This had met
+with flat denial from Hilda, and Sidney, with brotherly candour, could
+only arrive at the conclusion that Molly had been mistaken. He would not
+give way to the least suggestion of anxiety even in his own mind. After
+all Christian would probably come in with some simple explanation and a
+laugh for their fears. It often happens thus, as we must all know. The
+moments so long and dreary for the watcher, whose imagination gains more
+and more power as the time passes, slip away unheeded by the awaited,
+who treats the matter with a laugh or, at the most, a few conventional
+words of sympathy.
+
+Sidney stood at the edge of the water and threw the beams of light
+across the rippling surface. Mechanically he followed the ray as it
+swept from end to end of the moat, and presently, without heeding, he
+turned his attention to the stones at his feet. A gleam of reflected
+light caught his passing gaze, and he stooped to examine the cause more
+closely.
+
+The smooth stonework was wet; in fact the water was standing in little
+pools upon it. Round these there were circles of dampness, showing that
+evaporation was taking place. The water had not lain there long. A man
+falling into the moat would have thrown up splashes such as these; in no
+other way could they be plausibly accounted for. Sidney stood erect.
+Again he held the lamp over the gleaming water, half fearing to see
+something. His lips had quite suddenly become dry and parched, and there
+was an uncomfortable throb in his throat. Suddenly he heard a rustle
+behind him, and before he could draw back Hilda was at his side. She
+slipped her hand through his arm, and by the slightest pressure drew him
+away from the moat.
+
+“You know--Sid--he could swim perfectly,” she said persuasively.
+
+He made no answer, but walked slowly by her side, swinging the lamp
+backwards and forwards as a schoolboy swings his satchel. Thus he gained
+time to moisten his lips and render speech possible.
+
+Together they went round the grounds, but no sign or vestige of
+Christian did they discover. A pang of remorse came to Hilda as she
+touched her brother's strong arm. Ever since Christian's arrival she
+remembered that Sidney had been somewhat neglected, or only remembered
+when his services were required. Christian had indeed been attentive to
+him, but Hilda felt that their friendship was not what it used to be.
+The young journalist in his upward progress had left the slow-thinking
+country squire behind him. All they had in common belonged to the past;
+and, for Christian, the past was of small importance compared to the
+present. She recollected that during the last fortnight everything had
+been arranged with a view to giving pleasure to herself, Molly, and
+Christian, without heed to Sidney's inclinations. By word or sign he had
+never shown his knowledge of this; he had never implied that his
+existence or opinion was of any great consequence. She remembered even
+that such pleasures as Christian had shared with Sidney--pleasures after
+his own heart, sailing, shooting, and fishing--had been undertaken at
+Christian's instigation or suggestion, and eagerly welcomed by Sidney.
+
+And now, at the first suspicion of trouble, she turned instinctively to
+her brother for the help and counsel which were so willingly and
+modestly accorded.
+
+“Sidney,” she said, “did he ever speak to you of his work?”
+
+“No,” he replied slowly; “no, I think not.”
+
+“He has been rather worried over those disturbances in Paris, I think,
+and--and--I suppose he has never said anything to you about Signor
+Bruno?”
+
+“Signor Bruno!” said Sidney, repeating the name in some surprise. “No,
+he has never mentioned his name to me.”
+
+“He does not like him----”
+
+“Neither do I.”
+
+“But you never told me--Sid!”
+
+“No,” he replied simply: “there was nothing to be gained by it!”
+
+This was lamentably true, and Hilda felt that it was so, although her
+brother had no thought of posing as a martyr.
+
+“Christian,” she continued softly, “distrusted him for some reason. He
+knows something of his former life, and told me a short time ago that
+Bruno was not his name at all. This morning Christian received a letter
+from Carl Trevetz, whom we knew in Paris, you will remember, saying that
+Signor Bruno's real name was Max Talma, also warning Christian to avoid
+him.”
+
+“Is this all you know?” asked Sidney, in a peculiarly quiet tone.
+
+“That is all I know,” she replied. “But it has struck me that--that
+this may have something to do with Signor Bruno. I mean--is it not
+probable that Christian may have discovered something which caused him
+to go away suddenly without letting Bruno know of his departure?”
+
+Sidney thought of the water at the edge of the moat. The incident might
+prove easy enough of explanation, but at the moment it was singularly
+unreconcilable with Hilda's comforting explanation. And again, the
+recollection of the signal-whistle heard by Molly was unwelcome.
+
+“Yes,” he replied vaguely. “Yes, it may.”
+
+He was, by nature and habit, a slow thinker, and Hilda was running away
+from him a little; but he was, perhaps, surer than she.
+
+“I am convinced, Sidney,” she continued, “that Christian connects Signor
+Bruno in some manner with the disturbances in France. It seems very
+strange that an old man buried alive in a small village should have it
+in his power to do so much harm.”
+
+“A man's power of doing harm is practically unlimited,” he said slowly,
+still wishing to gain time.
+
+“Yes, but he has always appeared so childlike and innocent.”
+
+“That is exactly what I disliked about him,” said Sidney.
+
+“Then do you think he has been deliberately deceiving us all along?”
+ she asked.
+
+“Not necessarily,” was the tolerant reply. “You must remember that
+Christian is essentially a politician. He does not suspect Bruno of
+anything criminal; his suspicions are merely political; and it may be
+that Bruno's doings, whatever they appear to be now, may in the future
+be looked upon as the actions of a hero. Politics are impersonal, and
+Signor Bruno is only known to us socially.”
+
+Hilda could not see the matter in this light. No woman could have been
+expected to do so.
+
+“I suppose,” she said presently, “that Signor Bruno is a political
+intriguer.”
+
+“I expect so,” replied her brother.
+
+They were walking slowly up the broad path towards the house, having
+given up the idea of searching for Christian or calling him.
+
+“Then,” continued Sidney, “you think it is likely that he has gone off
+to see Bruno, or to watch him?”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+“That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of,” he said
+gravely and doubtfully, for he was still thinking of the moat.
+
+They entered the house, and to Mrs. Carew and Molly their explanation
+was imparted. It was received somewhat doubtfully, especially by Molly.
+However, the farce had to be kept up--and do we not act in similar
+comedies every day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+A NIGHT WATCH
+
+
+Cheerfulness is, thank goodness, infectious. The watchers at the Hall
+that night made a great show of light-heartedness. Sidney had risen to
+the occasion. He laughed at the idea of anything serious having happened
+to Christian, and his confidence gradually spread and gained new
+strength. Molly, however, was apparently beyond its influence. With her
+perpetual needle-work in her hands she sat beneath the lamp and worked
+rapidly. Occasionally she glanced towards Hilda, but contributed nothing
+to the explanations forthcoming from all quarters.
+
+Hilda was also working; slowly, however, and with marvellous care. She
+was engaged upon a more artistic production than ever came from Molly's
+work-basket. Once she consulted Mrs. Carew about the colour of a skein
+of wool, but otherwise showed no inclination to avoid topics in any
+manner connected with Christian, despite the fact that these were
+obviously distasteful to her family. In all that she said, indifference
+was blended in a singular way with imperturbable cheerfulness.
+
+Thus they waited until after midnight, pretending bravely to work and
+read as if there were no such feeling as suspense in the human heart.
+Then Mrs. Carew persuaded the young people to go to bed. She had letters
+to write, and would not be ready for hours. If Christian did not appear
+by the time that she was sleepy, she would wake Sidney. After all, she
+acted her part better than they. She was old at it--they were new. She
+was experienced in stage-craft and made her points skilfully; above all,
+she did not over-act.
+
+The three young people kissed their mother and left the room, assuring
+each other of their conviction that they would find Christian at the
+breakfast table next morning. Molly's room was at the head of the
+stairs. With a smile and a nod she closed her door while Hilda and
+Sidney walked slowly down the long passage together. Arrived at the end,
+Sidney kissed his sister. She turned the handle of her door and stood
+with her back to him for a few moments without entering the room, as if
+to give him an opportunity of speaking if he had aught to say. He stood
+awkwardly behind her, gazing mechanically at her hair, which reflected
+the light from the candle that he was holding all awry, while the wax
+dripped upon the carpet.
+
+“It will be all right, Hilda,” he said unevenly, “never fear!”
+
+“Yes, dear, I know it will,” she replied.
+
+And then she passed into the room without closing the door, and he
+walked on with loudly-creaking shoes.
+
+Hilda crossed her room and set the candle upon the dressing-table. She
+waited there till Sidney's footsteps had ceased, and then she turned and
+walked uprightly to the door, which she closed. She looked round the
+room with a strange, vacant look in her eyes, and then she made her way
+unsteadily towards the bed, where she lay staring at the wavering candle
+and its reflection in the mirror behind until daylight came to make its
+flame grow pale and yellow.
+
+There were four watchers in the house that night. Downstairs, Mrs. Carew
+sat by the shaded lamp in her upright armchair. She was not writing, but
+had re-opened the large black Bible. Molly was courting sleep in vain,
+having resolutely blown out her candle. Sidney made no pretence. He was
+fully dressed, and seated at his rarely-used writing-table. Before him
+lay a telegraph-form bearing nothing but the address--
+
+C.C. BODERY, _Beacon_ Office, Fleet St., London.
+
+He was gazing mechanically at the blank spaces waiting to be filled in,
+and through his mind was passing and repassing the same question that
+occupied the thoughts of his mother and sisters. What could be the
+explanation of the whistle heard by Molly? The want of this alone
+sufficed to overthrow the most ingenious of consolatory explanations.
+All four looked at it from different points of view, and to each the
+signal-whistle calling Christian into the garden was an insurmountable
+barrier to every explanation.
+
+Before it was wholly light Hilda moved wearily to the window. She threw
+it open, and sat with arms resting on the sill and her chin upon her
+hands, mechanically noting the wonders of the sunrise. A soft white mist
+was rising from the thick pasture, wholly obscuring the sea and filling
+the atmosphere with a damp chill. Seated there in her thin evening
+dress, she showed no sign of feeling the cold. At times physical pain is
+almost a pleasure. The glistening damp rested on every blade of grass,
+on every leaf and twig, while the many webs stood whitely against the
+shadows, some hanging like festoons from tree to tree, others floating
+out in mid-air without apparent reason or support. In and among the
+branches lingered little secret deposits of mist waiting the sun's
+warmth to melt them all away.
+
+The suppressed creak of Sidney's door attracted Hilda's attention, but
+she did not move, merely turning to look at her own door as her brother
+passed it with awkward caution. A dull instinct told her that he was
+going to the moat again. Presently he passed beneath her window and
+across the dewy lawn, leaving a trailing mark upon the grass. The whole
+picture seemed suddenly to be familiar to her. She had lived through it
+all before--not in another life, not in years gone by, not in a dream,
+but during the last few hours.
+
+The air was very still, and she could hear the clank of the chain as
+Sidney unmoored the old punt, rarely used except by the gardener to
+clean the moat when the weeds died down in autumn. The quiet was
+rendered more remarkable by the suddenness of its advent. All night it
+had been blowing a wild gale, which dropped at dawn, and from the soft
+land the mist rose instantly.
+
+Prompted by a vague desire to be doing something, Hilda presently turned
+from the window, and, after a moment's indecision, chose from the shelf
+a novel fresh from the brain of the king of writers. With it she
+returned to her low chair and listlessly turned over the leaves for some
+moments. She raised her head and sought in vain the tiny form of a lark
+trilling out his morning hymn far up in the blue sky. Then she
+resolutely commenced to read uninterruptedly.
+
+She read on until Sidney's firm step upon the gravel beneath the window
+roused her. A minute later he knocked softly at her door. The water was
+glistening on his rough shooting-boots as he entered the room, and upon
+the brown leather gaiters there was a deeper shade showing where the wet
+grass had brushed against his legs. His honest, immobile face showed but
+little surprise at the sight of Hilda still in evening dress, but she
+saw that he noticed it.
+
+She rose from her low chair and laid aside the book, but no sort of
+greeting passed between them.
+
+“I have been all round again,” he said quietly, “by daylight, and--and
+of course there is no sign.”
+
+She nodded her head, but did not speak.
+
+“I have been thinking,” he continued somewhat shyly, “as to what is to
+be done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I
+know it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that
+Christian has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the
+same excuse will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph
+this morning to Mr. Bodery, the editor of the _Beacon_, and await his
+instructions. I think that is all that we can do in the meantime.”
+
+She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon
+the closed volume of “Vanity Fair,” but instead of looking at her
+brother she was gazing calmly out of the window.
+
+“Yes,” she murmured, “I think that is all that we can do in the
+meantime.”
+
+Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated
+still.
+
+“Have you nothing to suggest?” he asked. “Do you think I am acting
+rightly?”
+
+She was still looking out of the window--still standing motionless near
+the table with her hand upon Thackeray's “Vanity Fair.”
+
+“Yes,” she replied; “everything you suggest seems wise and prudent.”
+
+“Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to
+say nothing--nothing that may betray our anxiety?”
+
+“Yes, I will see them.”
+
+Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round
+once more.
+
+“It is nearly half-past seven,” he said, with more confidence in his
+tone, “and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for
+her to see you in that dress.”
+
+Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face.
+
+“No,” she said, with a sudden smile; “I will change it at once.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+FOILED
+
+
+When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the
+tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the
+table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves
+tucked up. The subeditor of the _Beacon_ was in reality a good hard
+worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire
+that the world should be aware of his industry.
+
+“Good morning, Morgan,” said the editor, hanging up his hat.
+
+“Morning,” replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before
+Mr. Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand
+with heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and
+looked up.
+
+“This article of Vellacott's is first-rate,” he said. “By Jove! sir, he
+drops on these holy fathers--lets them have it right and left. The way
+he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting
+everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing
+_could_ be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see
+quickly enough that it means to show how the trick was in reality
+performed--ha, ha!”
+
+“Yes,” replied Mr. Bodery absently. He was glancing at the pile of
+letters that lay upon his desk. There were among them one or two
+telegrams, and these he put to one side while he took up each envelope
+in succession to examine the address, throwing it down again unopened.
+At length he turned again to the telegrams, and picked up the top one.
+He was about to tear open the envelope when there was a sharp knock at
+the door.
+
+“'M'in!” said Mr. Morgan sharply, and at the same moment the silent door
+was thrown open. The diminutive form of the boy stood in the aperture.
+
+“Gentleman to see you, sir,” he said, with great solemnity.
+
+“What name?” asked Mr. Bodery.
+
+“Wouldn't give his name, sir--said you didn't know it, sir.”
+
+Even this small office-boy was allowed his quantum of discretionary
+power. It rested with him whether an unknown visitor was admitted or
+politely dismissed to a much greater extent than any one suspected. Into
+his manner of announcing a person he somehow managed to convey his
+opinion as to whether it was worth the editor's time to admit him or
+not, and he invariably received Mr. Bodery's “Tell him I'm engaged” with
+a little nod of mutual understanding which was intensely comprehensive.
+
+On this occasion, his manner said, “Have him in, have him in my boy, and
+you will find it worth your while.”
+
+“Show him in,” said Mr. Bodery.
+
+The nameless gentleman must have been at the door upon the boy's heels,
+for no sooner had the words left Mr. Bodery's lips than a tall, dark
+form slid into the room. So noiseless and rapid were this gentleman's
+movements that there is no other word with which to express his mode of
+progression.
+
+He made a low bow, and shot up erect again with startling rapidity. He
+then stood quietly waiting until the door had closed behind the small
+boy, who, after having punctiliously expectorated upon a silver coin
+which had found its way into the palm of his hand, proceeded to slide
+down the balustrade upon his waistcoat.
+
+It often occurred that strangers addressed themselves to Mr. Morgan when
+ushered into the little back room, under the impression that he was the
+editor of the _Beacon_. Not so, however, this tall, clean-shaven person.
+He fixed his peculiar light-blue eyes upon Mr. Bodery, and, with a
+slight inclination, said suavely--
+
+“This, sir, is, I believe, your printing day?”
+
+“It is, sir, and a busy day with us,” replied the editor, with no great
+warmth of manner.
+
+“Would it be possible now,” inquired the stranger conversationally, “at
+this late hour, to remove a printed article and substitute another?”
+
+At these words Mr. Morgan ceased making some pencil notes with which he
+was occupied, and looked up. He met the stranger's benign glance and,
+while still looking at him, deliberately turned over all the
+proof-sheets before him, leaving no printed matter exposed to the gaze
+of the curious.
+
+Mr. Bodery had in the meantime consulted his watch.
+
+“Yes,” he replied, with dangerous politeness. “There would still be time
+to do so if necessary--at the sacrifice of some hundredweight of paper.”
+
+“How marvellously organised your interesting paper must be!”
+
+Dead silence. Most men would have felt embarrassed, but no sign of such
+feeling was forthcoming from any of the three. It is possible that the
+dark gentleman with the sky-blue eyes wished to establish a sense of
+embarrassment with a view to the furtherance of his own ends. If so, his
+attempt proved lamentably abortive. Mr. Bodery sat with his plump hands
+resting on the table, and looked contemplatively up into the stranger's
+face. Mr. Morgan was scribbling pencil notes on a tablet.
+
+“The truth is,” explained the stranger at length, “that a friend of
+mine, who is unfortunately ill in bed this morning--”
+
+(Mr. Bodery did not look in the least sympathetic, though he listened
+attentively.)
+
+“... has received a telegram from a gentleman who I am told is on the
+staff of your journal--Mr. Vellacott. This gentleman wishes to withdraw,
+for correction, an article he has sent to you. He states that he will
+re-write the article, with certain alterations, in time for next week's
+issue.”
+
+Mr. Bodery's face was pleasantly illegible.
+
+“May I see the telegram?” he asked politely.
+
+“Certainly!”
+
+The stranger produced and handed to the editor a pink paper covered with
+faint black writing.
+
+“You will see at the foot this--Mr. Vellacott's reason for not wiring to
+you direct. He wished my friend to be here before the printers got to
+work this morning; but owing to this unfortunate illness--”
+
+“I am afraid you are too late, sir,” interrupted Mr. Bodery briskly.
+“The press is at work--”
+
+“My friend instructed me,” interposed the stranger in his turn, “to make
+you rather a difficult proposition. If a thousand pounds will compensate
+for the loss incurred by the delay of issue, and defray the expense of
+paper spoilt--I--I have that amount with me.”
+
+Mr. Bodery did not display the least sign of surprise, merely shaking
+his head with a quiet smile. Mr. Morgan, however, laid aside his pencil,
+and placed his elbow upon the proof-sheets before him.
+
+The stranger then stepped forward with a sudden change of manner.
+
+“Mr. Bodery,” he said, in a low, concentrated voice, “I will give you
+five hundred pounds for a proof copy of Mr. Vellacott's article.”
+
+A dead silence of some moments' duration followed this remark. Mr.
+Morgan raised his head and looked across the table at his chief. The
+editor made an almost imperceptible motion with his eyebrows in the
+direction of the door.
+
+Then Mr. Morgan rose somewhat heavily from his chair, with a hand upon
+either arm, after the manner of a man who is beginning to put on weight
+rapidly. He went to the door, opened it, and, turning towards the
+stranger, said urbanely:
+
+“Sir--the door!”
+
+This kind invitation was not at once accepted.
+
+“You refuse my offers?” said the stranger curtly, without deigning to
+notice the sub-editor.
+
+Mr. Bodery had turned his attention to his letters, of which he was
+cutting open the envelopes, one by one, with a paper-knife, without,
+however, removing the contents. He looked up.
+
+“To-morrow morning,” he said, “you will be able to procure a copy from
+any stationer for the trifling sum of sixpence.”
+
+Then the stranger walked slowly past Mr. Morgan out of the room.
+
+“A curse on these Englishmen!” he muttered, as he passed down the narrow
+staircase. “If I could only see the article I could tell whether it is
+worth resorting to stronger measures or not. However, that is Talma's
+business to decide, not mine.”
+
+Mr. Morgan closed the door of the small room and resumed his seat. He
+then laughed aloud, but Mr. Bodery did not respond.
+
+“That's one of them,” observed Mr. Morgan comprehensively.
+
+“Yes,” replied the editor, “a dangerous customer. I do not like a
+blue-chinned man.”
+
+“I was not much impressed with his diplomatic skill.”
+
+“No; but you must remember that he had difficult cards to play. No doubt
+his information was of the scantiest, and--we are not chickens, Morgan.”
+
+“No,” said Mr. Morgan, with a little sigh. He turned to the revision of
+the proof-sheets again, while the editor began opening and reading his
+telegrams.
+
+“This is a little strong,” exclaimed Mr. Morgan, after a few moments of
+silence, broken only by the crackle of paper. “Just listen here:--
+
+“'It simply comes to this--the General of the Society of Jesus is an
+autocrat in the worst sense of the word. He holds within his fingers the
+wires of a vast machine moving with little friction and no noise. No
+farthest corner of the world is entirely beyond its influence; no
+political crisis passes that is not hurried on or restrained by its
+power. Unrecognised, unseen even, and often undreamt of, the vast
+Society does its work. It is not for us who live in a broad-minded,
+tolerant age to judge too harshly. It is not for us to say that the
+Jesuits are unscrupulous and treacherous. Let us be just and give them
+their due. They are undoubtedly earnest in their work, sincere in their
+belief, true to their faith. But it is for us to uphold our own
+integrity. We are accused--as a nation--of stirring up the seeds of
+rebellion, of crime and bloodshed in the heart of another country. Our
+denial is considered insufficient; our evidence is ignored. There
+remains yet to us one mode of self-defence. After denying the crime (for
+crime it is in humane and political sense) we can turn and boldly lay it
+upon those whom its results would chiefly benefit: the Roman Catholic
+Church in general--the Society of Jesus in particular. We have
+endeavoured to show how the followers of Ignatius Loyola could have
+brought about the present crisis in France; the extent to which they
+would benefit by a religious reaction is patent to the most casual
+observer; let the Government of England do the rest.'”
+
+Mr. Bodery was, however, not listening. He was staring vacantly at a
+telegram which lay spread out upon the table.
+
+“What is the meaning of this?” he exclaimed huskily.
+
+The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then
+Mr. Bodery read:
+
+“Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last
+night.”
+
+Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively
+rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table.
+
+“Who is it from?” he asked.
+
+“Sidney Carew, the man he is staying with.”
+
+They remained thus for some moments; the editor looking at the telegram
+with a peculiar blank expression in his eyes; Mr. Morgan staring at him
+while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with outspread finger and thumb.
+In the lane beneath the window some industrious housekeeper was sweeping
+her doorstep with aggravating monotony; otherwise there was no sound.
+
+At length Mr. Morgan rose from his seat and walked slowly to the window.
+He stood gazing out upon the smoke-begrimed roofs and crooked chimneys.
+Between his lips he held his pen, and his hands were thrust deeply into
+his trouser pockets. It was on that spot and in that attitude that he
+usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon “Home
+Affairs.” He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which
+stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and
+the supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his
+orders.
+
+“Bradshaw.”
+
+“Yess'r,” replied the boy, closing the door. His inventive mind had
+conceived a new and improved method of going downstairs. This was to lie
+flat on his back upon the balustrade with a leg dangling on either side.
+If the balance was correct, he slid down rapidly and shot out some feet
+from the bottom, as he had, from an advantageous point of view on
+Blackfriars Bridge, seen sacks of meal shoot from a Thames warehouse
+into the barge beneath. If, however, he made a miscalculation, he
+inevitably rolled off sideways and landed in a heap on the floor. Either
+result appeared to afford him infinite enjoyment and exhilaration. On
+this occasion he performed the feat with marked success.
+
+“Guv'nor's goin' on the loose--wants the railway guide,” he confided to
+a small friend in the printing interest whom he met as he was returning
+with the required volume.
+
+“Suppose you'll be sitten' upstairs now, then,” remarked the
+black-fingered one with fine sarcasm. Whereupon there followed a
+feint--a desperate lunge to one side, a vigorous bob of the head, and a
+resounding bang with the railway guide in the centre of the sarcastic
+youth's waistcoat.
+
+Having executed a strategic movement, and a masterly retreat up the
+stairs, the small boy leant over the banisters and delivered himself of
+the following explanation:
+
+“I 'it yer one that time. Don't do it agin. _Good_ morning, sir.”
+
+Mr. Bodery turned the flimsy leaves impatiently, stopped, looked rapidly
+down a column, and, without raising his eyes from the railway guide,
+tore a telegraph form from the handle of a drawer at his side. Then he
+wrote in a large clear style:
+
+“Will be with you at five o'clock. Invent some excuse for V.'s absence.
+On no account give alarm to authorities.”
+
+The sharp boy took the telegram from the editor's hand with an
+expression of profound respect upon his wicked features.
+
+“Go down to Banks,” said Mr. Bodery, “ask him to let me have two copies
+of the foreign policy article in ten minutes.”
+
+When the silent door was closed, Mr. Morgan wheeled round upon his
+heels, and gazed meditatively at his superior.
+
+“Going down to see these people?” he asked, with a jerk of his head
+towards the West.
+
+“Yes, I am going by the eleven-fifteen.”
+
+“I have been thinking,” continued the sub-editor, “we may as well keep
+the printing-office door locked to-day. That slippery gentleman with the
+watery eyes meant business, or I am very much mistaken. I'll just send
+upstairs for Bander to go on duty at the shop door to-day as well as
+to-morrow; I think we shall have a big sale this week.”
+
+Mr. Bodery rose from his seat and began brushing his faultless hat.
+
+“Yes,” he replied; “do that. It would be very easy to get at the
+machinery. Printers are only human!”
+
+“Machinery is ready enough to go wrong when nobody wishes it,” murmured
+Mr. Morgan vaguely, as he sat down at the table and began setting the
+scattered papers in order.
+
+Mr. Bodery and his colleagues were in the habit of keeping at the office
+a small bag, containing the luggage necessary for a few nights in case
+of their being suddenly called away. This expedient was due to Christian
+Vellacott's forethought.
+
+The editor now proceeded to stuff into his bag sundry morning newspapers
+and a large cigar case. Telegraph forms, pen, ink, and foolscap paper
+were already there.
+
+“I say, Bodery,” said the sub-editor with grave familiarity, “it seems
+to me that you are taking much too serious a view of this matter.
+Vellacott is as wide awake as any man, and it always struck me that he
+was very well able to take care of himself.”
+
+“I have a wholesome dread of men who use religion as a means of
+justification. A fanatic is always dangerous.”
+
+“A sincere fanatic,” suggested the sub-editor.
+
+“Exactly so; and a sincere fanatic in the hands of an agitator is the
+very devil. That is whence these fellows got their power. Half of them
+are fanatics and the other half hypocrites.”
+
+Mr. Bodery had now completed his preparations, and he held out his plump
+hand, which the subeditor grasped.
+
+“I hope,” said the latter, “that you will find Vellacott at the station
+to meet you--ha, ha!”
+
+“I hope so.”
+
+“If,” said Mr. Morgan, following the editor to the door--“if he turns up
+here, I will wire to Carew and to you, care of the station-master.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+BOOKS
+
+
+The London express rolled with stately deliberation into Brayport
+station. Mr. Bodery folded up his newspapers, reached down his bag from
+the netting, and prepared to alight. The editor of the _Beacon_ had
+enjoyed a very pleasant journey, despite broiling sun and searching
+dust. He knew the possibilities of a first-class smoking-carriage--how
+to regulate the leeward window and chock off the other with a wooden
+match borrowed from the guard.
+
+He stepped from the carriage with the laboured sprightliness of a man
+past the forties, and a moment later Sidney Carew was at his side.
+
+“Mr. Bodery?”
+
+“The same. You are no doubt Mr. Carew?”
+
+“Yes. Thanks for coming. Hope it didn't inconvenience you?”
+
+“Not at all,” replied the editor, breaking his return ticket.
+
+“D----n!” said Sidney suddenly.
+
+He was beginning to rise to the occasion. He was one of those men who
+are usually too slack to burthen their souls with a refreshing
+expletive.
+
+“What is the matter?” inquired Mr. Bodery gravely.
+
+“There is a man,” explained Sidney hurriedly, “getting out of the train
+who is coming to stay with us. I had forgotten his existence. _Don't_
+look round!”
+
+Mr. Bodery was a Londoner. He did not look round. Nine out of ten
+country-bred people would have indulged in a stare.
+
+“Is this all your luggage?” continued Sidney abruptly. He certainly was
+rising.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then come along. We'll bolt for it. He'll have to get a fly, and that
+means ten minutes' start if the porter is not officious and mulls
+things.”
+
+They hurried out of the station and clambered into the dog-cart. Sidney
+gathered up the reins.
+
+“Hang it,” he exclaimed. “What bad luck! There is a fly waiting. It is
+never there when you want it.”
+
+Mr. Bodery looked between the shafts.
+
+“You need not be afraid of that fly,” he said.
+
+“No--come up, you brute!”
+
+Mr. Bodery turned carelessly to put his bag in the back of the cart.
+
+“Let him have it,” he exclaimed in a low voice. “Your friend sees you,
+but he does not know that you have seen him. He is pointing you out to
+the station-master.”
+
+As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard,
+nearly throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the
+whip-socket.
+
+“There,” he said, “we are safe. I think I can manage that fly.”
+
+Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby
+knees.
+
+“Now,” he said, “tell me all about Vellacott.”
+
+Sidney did so.
+
+He gave a full and minute description of events previous to Christian
+Vellacott's disappearance, omitting nothing. The relation was somewhat
+disjointed, somewhat vague in parts, and occasionally incoherent. The
+narrator repeated himself--hesitated--blurted out some totally
+irrelevant fact, and finished up with a vague supposition (possessing a
+solid basis of truth) expressed in doubtful English. It suited Mr.
+Bodery admirably. In telling all about Vellacott, Sidney unconsciously
+told all about Mrs. Carew, Molly, Hilda, and himself. When he reached
+the point in his narration telling how Vellacott had been attracted into
+the garden, he became extremely vague and his style notably colloquial.
+Tell the story how he would, he felt that he could not prevent Mr.
+Bodery from drawing his own inferences. Young ladies are not in the
+habit of whistling for youthful members of the opposite sex. Few of them
+master the labial art, which perhaps accounts for much. Sidney Carew was
+conscious that his style lacked grace and finish.
+
+Mr. Bodery did draw his own inferences, but the countenance into which
+Sidney glanced at intervals was one of intense stolidity.
+
+“Well, I confess I cannot make it out--at present,” he said; “Vellacott
+has written to us only on business matters. We publish to-morrow a very
+good article of his purporting to be the dream of an overworked
+_attaché_. It is very cutting and very incriminating. The Government
+cannot well avoid taking some notice of it. My only hope is that he is
+in Paris. There is something brewing over there. Our Paris agent wired
+for Vellacott this morning. By the way, Mr. Carew, is there a monastery
+somewhere in this part of the country?”
+
+“Down that valley,” replied Sidney, pointing with his whip.
+
+“In Vellacott's article there is mention of a monastery--not too
+minutely described, however. There are also some remarkable suppositions
+respecting an old foreigner living in seclusion. Could that be the man
+you mentioned just now--Signor Bruno?”
+
+“Hardly. Bruno is a harmless old soul,” replied Sidney, pulling up to
+turn into the narrow gateway.
+
+There was no time to make further inquiries.
+
+Sidney led the way into the drawing-room. The ladies were there.
+
+“My mother, Mr. Bodery--my sister; my sister Hilda,” he blurted out
+awkwardly.
+
+Mrs. Carew shook hands, and the two young ladies bowed. They were all
+disappointed in Mr. Bodery. He was too calm and comfortable--also there
+was a suggestion of cigar smoke in his presence, which jarred.
+
+“I am sorry,” said the Londoner, with genial self-possession, “to owe
+the pleasure of this visit to such an unfortunate incident.”
+
+Molly felt that she hated him.
+
+“Then you have heard nothing of Christian?” said Mrs. Carew.
+
+“Nothing,” replied Mr. Bodery, removing his tight gloves. “But it is too
+soon to think of getting anxious yet. Vellacott is eminently capable of
+taking care of himself--he is, above all things, a journalist. Things
+are disturbed in Paris, and it is possible that he has run across
+there.”
+
+Mrs. Carew smiled somewhat incredulously.
+
+“It was a singular time to start,” observed Hilda quietly.
+
+Mr. Bodery turned and looked at her.
+
+“Master mind in _this_ house,” he reflected.
+
+“Yes,” he admitted aloud.
+
+He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The
+others watched him in silence.
+
+“Do you take sugar and cream?” inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the
+second time.
+
+“Please--both. In moderation.”
+
+“I say,” interrupted Sidney at this moment, “the Vicomte d'Audierne is
+following us in a fly. He will be here in five minutes.”
+
+Mrs. Carew nodded. She had not forgotten this guest.
+
+“The Vicomte d'Audierne,” said Mr. Bodery, with considerable interest,
+turning away from the tea-table, cup in hand. “Is that the man who got
+out of my train?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Sidney; “do you know him?”
+
+“I have heard of him.” Mr. Bodery turned and took a slice of bread and
+butter from a plate which Hilda held.
+
+At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels.
+
+“By the way,” said the editor of the _Beacon_, raising his voice so as
+to command universal attention, “do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne
+about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do
+not tell him of my connection with the _Beacon_.”
+
+The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
+Bodery when the door was thrown open, and a servant announced M.
+d'Audierne.
+
+He who entered immediately afterwards--with an almost indecent
+haste--was of middle height, with a certain intrepid carriage of the
+head which appeals to such as take pleasure in the strength and
+endurance of men. His face, which was clean shaven, was the face of a
+hawk, with the contracted myope vision characteristic of that bird. It
+is probable that from the threshold he took in every occupant of the
+room.
+
+“Mrs. Carew,” he said in a pleasant voice, speaking almost faultless
+English, “after all these years. What a pleasure!”
+
+He shook hands, turning at the same time to the others.
+
+“And Sid,” he said, “and Molly--wicked little Molly. Never mind--your
+antecedents are safe. I am silent as the grave.”
+
+This was not strictly true. He was as deep, and deeper than the
+resting-place mentioned, but his method was superior to silence.
+
+“And Hilda,” he continued, “thoughtful little Hilda, who was always too
+busy to be naughty. Not like Molly, eh?”
+
+“Heavens! How old it makes one feel!” he exclaimed, turning to Mrs.
+Carew.
+
+The lady laughed.
+
+“You are not changed, at all events,” she said. “Allow me to introduce
+Mr. Bodery--the Vicomte d'Audierne.”
+
+The two men bowed.
+
+“Much pleasure,” said the Frenchman.
+
+Mr. Bodery bowed again in an insular manner, which just escaped
+awkwardness, and said nothing.
+
+Then Molly offered the new-comer some tea, and the party broke up into
+groups. But the Vicomte's personality in some subtle manner pervaded the
+room. Mr. Bodery lapsed into monosyllables and felt ponderous. Monsieur
+d'Audierne had it in his power to make most men feel ponderous when the
+spirit moved him in that direction.
+
+As soon as tea was finally disposed of Mrs. Carew proposed an
+adjournment to the garden. She was desirous of getting Mr. Bodery to
+herself.
+
+It fell to Hilda's lot to undertake the Frenchman. They had been great
+friends once, and she was quite ready to renew the pleasant
+relationship. She led her guest to the prettiest part of the garden--the
+old overgrown footpath around the moat.
+
+As soon as they had passed under the nut-trees into the open space at
+the edge of the water, the Vicomte d'Audierne stopped short and looked
+round him curiously. At the same time he gave a strange little laugh.
+
+“_Hein--hein--c'est drôle_,” he muttered, and the girl remembered that
+in the old friendship between the brilliant, middle-aged diplomatist and
+the little child they had always spoken French. She liked to hear him
+speak his own language, for in his lips it received full justice: it was
+the finest tongue spoken on this earth. But she did not feel disposed
+just then to humour him. She looked at him wonderingly as his deep eyes
+wandered over the scene.
+
+While they stood there, something--probably a kestrel--disturbed the
+rooks dwelling in the summits of the still elms across the moat, and
+they rose simultaneously in the air with long-drawn cries.
+
+“Ah! Ah--h!” said the Vicomte, with a singular smile.
+
+And then Hilda forgot her shyness.
+
+“What is it?” she inquired in the language she had always spoken to this
+man.
+
+He turned and walked beside her, suiting his steps to hers, for some
+moments before replying.
+
+“I was not here at all,” he said at length, apologetically; “I was far
+away from you. It was impolite. I am sorry.”
+
+He intended that she should laugh, and she did so softly. “Where were
+you?” she inquired, glancing at him beneath her golden lashes.
+
+Again he paused.
+
+“There is,” he said at length, “an old _château_ in Morbihan--many
+miles from a railway--in the heart of a peaceful country. It has a moat
+like this--there are elms--there are rooks that swing up into the air
+like that and call--and one does not know why they do it, and what they
+are calling. Listen, little girl--they are calling something. What is
+it? I think I was _there_. It was impolite--I am sorry, Miss Carew.”
+
+She laughed again sympathetically and without mirth; for she was meant
+to laugh.
+
+He looked back over his shoulder at times as if the calling of the rooks
+jarred upon his nerves.
+
+“I do not think I like them--” he said, “now.”
+
+He was not apparently disposed to be loquacious as he had been at first.
+Possibly the rooks had brought about this change. Hilda also had her
+thoughts. At times she glanced at the water with a certain shrinking in
+her heart. She had not yet forgotten the moments she had passed at the
+edge of the moat the night before. They walked right round the moat and
+down a little pathway through the elm wood without speaking. The rooks
+had returned to their nests and only called to each other querulously at
+intervals.
+
+“Has it ever occurred to you, little girl,” said the Vicomte d'Audierne
+suddenly, “to doubt the wisdom of the Creator's arrangements for our
+comfort, or otherwise, here below?”
+
+“I suppose not,” he went on, without waiting for an answer, which she
+remembered as an old trick of his. “You are a woman--it is different for
+you.”
+
+The girl said nothing. She may have thought differently; one cannot
+always read a maiden's thoughts.
+
+They walked on together. Suddenly the Vicomte d'Audierne spoke.
+
+“Who is this?” he said.
+
+Hilda followed the direction of his eyes.
+
+“That,” she answered, “is Signor Bruno. An old Italian exile. A friend
+of ours.”
+
+Bruno came forward, hat in hand, bowing and smiling in his charming way.
+
+Hilda introduced the two men, speaking in French.
+
+“I did not know,” said Signor Bruno, with outspread hands, “that you
+spoke French like a Frenchwoman.”
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+“Had it,” she said, with a sudden inspiration, “been Italian, I should
+have told you.”
+
+There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
+
+“Mademoiselle,” he said, “learnt most of it from me. We are old
+friends.”
+
+Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
+
+“Ah--but is that so?” he murmured conversationally.
+
+“Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me,” replied the Vicomte
+carelessly.
+
+Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I do not imagine, little girl,” replied d'Audierne, “that you could
+learn very much that is good from me.”
+
+Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the
+nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor
+Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew
+and Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his
+handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a
+slight delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.
+
+Before the two foreigners came up with Hilda, who had walked on, Signor
+Bruno found time to say:
+
+“I must see you to-night, without fail; I am in a very difficult
+position. I have had to resort to strong measures.”
+
+“Where?” inquired the Vicomte d'Audierne, with that pleasant nonchalance
+which is so aggravating to the People.
+
+“In the village, any time after nine; a yellow cottage near the well.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+And they joined Hilda Carew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+FOES
+
+
+It is only when our feelings are imaginary that we analyse them. When
+the real thing comes--the thing that only does come to a few of us--we
+can only feel it, and there is no thought of analysis. Moreover, the
+action is purely involuntary. We feel strange things--such things as
+murder--and we cannot help feeling it. We may cringe and shrink; we may
+toss in our beds when we wake up with such thoughts living, moving,
+having their being in our brains--but we cannot toss them off. The very
+attempt to do so is a realisation, and from consciousness we spring to
+knowledge. We know that in our hearts we are thieves, murderers,
+slanderers; we know that if we read of such thoughts in a novel we
+should hold the thinker in all horror; but we are distinctly conscious
+all the time that these thoughts are our own. This is just the
+difference existing between artificial feelings and real: the one bears
+analysis, the other cannot.
+
+Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the
+arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of
+the little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with
+singular care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual,
+but all the while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda
+Carew. At certain moments she wondered with a throb of apprehension
+whether the difference which was so glaringly patent to herself could
+possibly be hidden from others. She caught strange inflections in her
+own voice which she knew had never been there before--her own laughter
+was a new thing to her. And yet she went on through dinner and until
+bedtime, acting this strange part without break, without fault--a part
+which had never been rehearsed and never learnt: a part which was
+utterly artificial and yet totally without art, for it came naturally.
+
+And through it all she feared the Vicomte d'Audierne. Mr. Bodery counted
+for nothing. He made a very good dinner, was genial and even witty in a
+manner befitting his years and station. Mrs. Carew was fully engaged
+with her guests, and Molly was on lively terms with the Vicomte; while
+Sidney, old Sidney--no one counted him. It was only the Vicomte who
+paused at intervals during his frugal meal, and looked across the table
+towards the young girl with those deep, impenetrable eyes--shadowless,
+gleamless, like velvet.
+
+When bedtime at length arrived, she was quite glad to get away from that
+kind, unobtrusive scrutiny of which she alone was aware. She went to her
+room, and sitting wearily on the bed she realised for the first time in
+her life the incapacity to think. It is a realisation which usually
+comes but once or twice in a lifetime, and we are therefore unable to
+get accustomed to it. She was conscious of intense pressure within her
+brain, of a hopeless weight upon her heart, but she could define
+neither. She rose at length, and mechanically went to bed like one in a
+trance. In the same way she fell asleep.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Bodery, Sidney Carew, and the Vicomte d'Audierne
+were smoking in the little room at the side of the porch. A single lamp
+with a red shade hung from the ceiling in the centre of this room,
+hardly giving enough light to read by. There were half-a-dozen deep
+armchairs, a divan, and two or three small tables--beyond that nothing.
+Sidney's father had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation
+of Oriental ways. It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but
+merely a smoking-room. Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and
+through the thin smoke he glanced persistently at the Vicomte
+d'Audierne. The Vicomte did not return this attention; he glanced at the
+clock instead. He was thinking of Signor Bruno, but he was too polite
+and too diplomatic to give way to restlessness.
+
+At last Mr. Bodery opened fire from, as it were, a masked battery; for
+he knew that the Frenchman was ignorant of his connection with one of
+the leading political papers of the day. It was a duel between sheer
+skill and confident foreknowledge. When Mr. Bodery spoke, Sidney Carew
+leant back in his chair and puffed vigorously at his briar pipe.
+
+“Things,” said the Englishman, “seem to be very unsettled in France just
+now.”
+
+The Vicomte was engaged in rolling a cigarette, and he finished the
+delicate operation before looking up with a grave smile.
+
+“Yes,” he said. “In Paris. But Paris is not France. That fact is hardly
+realised in England, I think.”
+
+“What,” inquired Mr. Bodery, with that conversational heaviness of touch
+which is essentially British, “is the meaning of this disturbance?”
+
+Sidney Carew was enveloped in a perfect cloud of smoke.
+
+For a moment--and a moment only--the Vicomte's profound gaze rested on
+the Englishman's face. Mr. Bodery was evidently absorbed in the
+enjoyment of his cigar. The smile that lay on his genial face like a
+mask was the smile of a consciousness that he was making himself
+intensely pleasant, and adapting his conversation to his company in a
+quite phenomenal way.
+
+“Ah!” replied the Frenchman, with a neat little shrug of bewilderment.
+“Who can tell? Probably there is no meaning in it. There is so often no
+meaning in the action of a Parisian mob.”
+
+“Many things without meaning are not without result.”
+
+Again the Vicomte looked at Mr. Bodery, and again he was baffled.
+
+“You only asked me the meaning,” he said lightly. “I am glad you did not
+inquire after the result; because there I should indeed have been at
+fault. I always argue to myself that it is useless to trouble one's
+brain about results. I leave such matters to the good God. He will
+probably do just as well without my assistance.”
+
+“You are a philosopher,” said Mr. Bodery, with a pleasant and friendly
+laugh.
+
+“Thank Heaven--yes! Look at my position. Fancy carrying in France to-day
+a name that is to be found in the most abridged history. One needs to be
+a philosopher, Mr. Bodery.”
+
+“But,” suggested the Englishman, “there may be changes. It may all come
+right.”
+
+The Vicomte sipped his whisky and water with vicious emphasis.
+
+“If it began at once,” he said, “it would never be right in my time. Not
+as it used to be. And in the meantime we are in the present--in the
+present France is governed by newspaper men.”
+
+Sidney drew in his feet and coughed. Some of his smoke had gone astray.
+
+Mr. Bodery looked sympathetic.
+
+“Yes,” he said calmly, “that really seems to be the case.”
+
+“And newspaper men,” pursued the Vicomte, “what are they? Men of no
+education, no position, no sense of honour. The great aim of politicians
+in France to-day is the aggrandisement of themselves.”
+
+Mr. Bodery yawned.
+
+“Ah!” he said, with a glance towards Sidney.
+
+Perhaps the Frenchman saw the glance, perhaps he was deceived by the
+yawn. At all events, he rose and expressed a desire to retire to his
+room. He was tired, he said, having been travelling all the previous
+night.
+
+Mr. Bodery had not yet finished his cigar, so he rose and shook hands
+without displaying any intention of following the Vicomte's example.
+
+Sidney lighted a candle, one of many standing on a side table, and led
+the way upstairs. They walked through the long, dimly lighted corridors
+in silence, and it was only when they had arrived in the room set apart
+for the Vicomte d'Audierne that this gentleman spoke.
+
+“By the way,” he said, “who is this person--this Mr. Bodery? He was not
+a friend of your father's.” Sidney was lighting the tall candles that
+stood upon the dressing-table, and the combined illumination showed with
+remarkable distinctness the reflection of his face in the mirror. From
+whence he stood the Frenchman could see this reflection.
+
+“He is the friend of a great friend of mine; that is how we know him,”
+ replied Sidney, prizing up the wick of a candle. He was still rising to
+the occasion--this dull young Briton. Then he turned. “Christian
+Vellacott,” he said; “you knew his father?”
+
+“Ah, yes: I knew his father.”
+
+Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any
+intention of being deterred.
+
+“His father,” continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively,
+“was brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?”
+
+“I think so. Good night.”
+
+“Good night.”
+
+When the door was closed the Vicomte looked at his watch. It was almost
+midnight.
+
+“The Reverend Father Talma will have to wait till to-morrow morning,” he
+said to himself. “I cannot go to him to-night. It would be too
+theatrical. That old gentleman is getting too old for his work.”
+
+In the meantime, Sidney returned to the little smoking-room at the side
+of the porch. There he found Mr. Bodery smoking with his usual
+composure. The younger man forbore asking any questions. He poured out
+for himself some whisky, and opened a bottle of soda-water with
+deliberate care and noiselessness.
+
+“That man,” said Mr. Bodery at length, “knows nothing about Vellacott.”
+
+“You think so?”
+
+“I am convinced of it. By the way, who is the old gentleman who came to
+tea this afternoon?”
+
+“Signor Bruno, do you mean?”
+
+“I suppose so--that super-innocent old man with the white hair who wears
+window-glass spectacles.”
+
+“Are they window-glass?” asked Sidney, with a little laugh.
+
+“They struck me as window-glass--quite flat. Who is he--beyond his name,
+I mean?”
+
+“He is an Italian refugee--lives in the village.”
+
+Mr. Bodery had taken his silver pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and
+was rolling it backwards and forwards on the table. This was indicative
+of the fact that the editor of the _Beacon_ was thinking deeply.
+
+“Ah! And how long has he been here?”
+
+“Only a few weeks.”
+
+Mr. Bodery looked up sharply.
+
+“Is _that_ all?” he inquired, with an eager little laugh.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then, my dear sir, Vellacott is right. That old man is at the bottom of
+it. This Vicomte d'Audierne, what do you know of him?”
+
+“Personally?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“He is an old friend of my father's. In fact, he is a friend of the
+family. He calls the girls by their Christian names, as you have heard
+to-night.”
+
+“Yes; I noticed that. And he came here to-day merely on a friendly
+visit?”
+
+“That is all. Why do you ask?” inquired Sidney, who was getting rather
+puzzled.
+
+“I know nothing of him personally--except what I have learnt to-day. For
+my own part, I like him,” answered Mr. Bodery. “He is keen and clever.
+Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman. But, politically speaking, he is
+one of the most dangerous men in France. He is a Jesuit, an active
+Royalist, and a staunch worker for the Church party. I don't know much
+about French politics--that is Vellacott's department. But I know that
+if he were here, and knew of the Vicomte's presence in England, he would
+be very much on the alert.”
+
+“Then,” asked Sidney, “do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here
+with the absence of Vellacott?”
+
+“There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly.
+Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a
+scoundrel.”
+
+Sidney thought deeply.
+
+“He may be,” he admitted.
+
+“I do not,” pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, “think
+that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion.”
+
+“He asked who you were--if you were a friend of my father's.”
+
+“And you said--”
+
+“No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned
+Vellacott's name. He knew his father very well.”
+
+“Were you”--asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and
+rising from his deep chair--“were you looking at the Vicomte when you
+answered the question?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And there was no sign of discomfort--no flicker of the eyelids, for
+instance?”
+
+“No; nothing.”
+
+Mr. Bodery nodded his head in a businesslike way, indicative of the fact
+that he was engaged in assimilating a good deal of useful information.
+
+“There is nothing to be done to-night,” he said presently, as he made a
+movement towards the door, “but to go to bed. To-morrow the _Beacon_
+will be published, and the result will probably be rather startling. We
+shall hear something before to-morrow afternoon.”
+
+Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands.
+
+“By the way,” said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly,
+“if any one should inquire--your mother or one of your sisters--you can
+say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A RETREAT
+
+
+It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left
+his room. As he walked along the still corridor and down the stairs it
+was noticeable that he made absolutely no sound, without, however,
+indulging in any of those contortions which are peculiar to late
+arrivals in church. It would seem that Nature had for purposes of her
+own made his footfall noiseless--if, by the way, Nature can be credited
+with any purpose whatever in her allotment of human gifts and failings.
+
+In the hall he found a stout cook armed for assault upon the front-door
+step.
+
+“Good morning,” he said. “Can you tell me the breakfast-hour? I forgot
+to inquire last night.”
+
+“Nine o'clock, sir,” replied the servant, rather taken aback at the
+thought of having this visitor dependent upon her for entertainment
+during the next hour and a half.
+
+“Ah--and it is not yet eight. Never mind. I will go into the garden. I
+am fond of fruit before breakfast.”
+
+He took his hat and lounged away towards the kitchen-garden which lay
+near the moat.
+
+“And now,” he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way,
+“where is this pestilential village?”
+
+The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the
+Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where
+Signor Bruno was lodging.
+
+The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the
+door before the Vicomte reached it.
+
+He turned and led the way into a little room on the right hand of the
+narrow passage. A little room intensely typical: china dogs, knitted
+antimacassars of a brilliant tendency, and horse-hair covered furniture.
+There was even the usual stuffy odour as if the windows, half-hidden
+behind muslin curtains and scarlet geraniums, were never opened from one
+year's end to another.
+
+Signor Bruno closed the door before speaking. Then he turned upon his
+companion with something very like fury glittering in his eyes.
+
+“Why did you not come last night?” he asked. “I am left alone to contend
+against one difficulty on the top of another. Read that!”
+
+He drew from his pocket a thin and somewhat crumpled sheet of paper,
+upon which there were two columns of printed matter.
+
+“That,” he said, “cost us two thousand francs.” The Vicomte d'Audierne
+read the printed matter carefully from beginning to end. He had
+approached the window because the light was bad, and when he finished he
+looked up for a few minutes, out of the little casement, upon the quiet
+village scene.
+
+“The _Beacon_,” he said, turning round, “what is that?”
+
+“A leading weekly newspaper.”
+
+“Published--?
+
+“To-day,” snapped Signor Bruno.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne made a little grimace.
+
+“Who wrote this?” he inquired.
+
+“Christian Vellacott, son of _the_ Vellacott, whom you knew in the old
+days.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+There was something in the Vicomte's expressive voice that made Signor
+Bruno look at him sharply with some apprehension.
+
+“Why do you say that?”
+
+The Vicomte countered with another question.
+
+“Who is this Mr. Bodery?”
+
+He gave a little jerk with his head in the direction of the house he had
+just left.
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“I was told last night that he was a friend of this Christian
+Vellacott--a protector.”
+
+The two Frenchmen looked at each other in silence. Signor Bruno was
+evidently alarmed--his lips were white and unsteady. There was a smile
+upon the bird-like face of the younger man, and behind his spectacles
+his eyes glittered with an excitement in which there was obviously no
+fear.
+
+“Do you know,” he asked in a disagreeably soft manner, “where Christian
+Vellacott is?”
+
+Across the benevolent old face of Signor Bruno here came a very evil
+smile.
+
+“You will do better not to ask me that question,” he replied, “unless
+you mean to run for it--as I do.”
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne looked at his companion in a curious way.
+
+“You had,” he said, “at one time no rival as a man of action--”
+
+Signor Bruno shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“I am a man of action still.”
+
+The Vicomte folded the proof-sheet carefully, handed it back to his
+companion, and said:
+
+“Then I understand that--there will be no more of these very clever
+articles?”
+
+Bruno nodded his head.
+
+“I ask no questions,” continued the other. “It is better so. I shall
+stay where I am for a few days, unless it grows too hot--unless I think
+it expedient to vanish.”
+
+“You have courage?”
+
+“No; I have impertinence--that is all. There will be a storm--a
+newspaper storm. The embassies will be busy; in the English Parliament
+some pompous fool will ask a question, and be snubbed for his pains. In
+the _Chambre_ the newspaper men will rant and challenge each other in
+the corridors; and it will blow over. In the meantime we have got what
+we want, and we can hide it till we have need of it. Your Reverence and
+I have met difficulties together before this one.”
+
+But Signor Bruno was not inclined to fall in with these optimistic
+views.
+
+“I am not so sure,” he said, “that we have got what we want. There has
+been no acknowledgment of receipt of the last parcel--in the usual
+way--the English _Standard_.”
+
+“What was the last parcel?”
+
+“Fifty thousand cartridges.”
+
+“But they were sent?”
+
+“Yes; they were despatched in the usual way; but, as I say, they have
+not been acknowledged. There may have been some difficulty on the other
+side. Our police are not so easy-going as these coastguard gentlemen.”
+
+“Well,” said the aristocrat, with that semi-bantering lightness of
+manner which sometimes aggravated, and always puzzled, his colleagues,
+“we will not give ourselves trouble over that: the matter is out of our
+hands. Let us rather think of ourselves. Have you money?”
+
+“Yes--I have sufficient.”
+
+“It is now eight o'clock--this newspaper--this precious _Beacon_ is now
+casting its light into some dark intellects in London. It will take
+those intellects two hours to assimilate the information, and one more
+hour to proceed to action. You have, therefore, three hours in which to
+make yourself scarce.”
+
+“I have arranged that,” replied the old man calmly. “There is a small
+French potato-ship lying at Exmouth. In two hours I shall be one of her
+crew.”
+
+“That is well. And the others?”
+
+“The others left yesterday afternoon. They cross by this morning's boat
+from Southampton to Cherbourg. You see how much I have had to do.”
+
+“I see also, my friend, how well you have done it.”
+
+“And now,” said Signor Bruno, ignoring the compliment, “I must go. We
+will walk away by the back garden across the fields. You must remember
+that you may have been seen coming here.”
+
+“I have thought of that. One old man saw me, but he did not look at me
+twice. He will not know me again. And your landlady--where is she?”
+
+“I have sent her out on a fool's errand.”
+
+As they spoke they left the little cottage by the back door, as Signor
+Bruno had proposed, through the little garden, and across some low-lying
+fields. Presently they parted, Signor Bruno turning to the left, while
+the Vicomte d'Audierne kept to the right.
+
+“We shall meet, I suppose,” were the last words of the younger man, “in
+the Rue St. Gingolphe?”
+
+“Yes--in the Rue St. Gingolphe.”
+
+For so old a man the pace at which Signor Bruno breasted the hill that
+lay before him was somewhat remarkable. The Vicomte d'Audierne, on the
+other hand, was evidently blessed with a greater leisure. He looked at
+his watch and strolled on through the dew-laden meadows, wrapt in
+thought as in a cloak that hid the sweet freshness of the flowery
+hedgerows, that muffled the broken song of the busy birds, that killed
+the scent of ripening hay. Thus these two singular men parted--and it
+happened that they were never to meet again. These little things _do_
+happen. We meet with gravity; we part with a smile; perhaps we make an
+appointment; possibly we speak of the pleasure that the meeting seems to
+promise: and the next meeting is put off; it belongs to the great
+postponement.
+
+Often we part with an indifferent nod, as these two men parted amidst
+the sylvan peace of English meadow on that summer morning. They belonged
+to two different stations in life almost as far apart as two social
+stations could be, even in a republic. They were not, in any sense of
+the word, friends; they were merely partners, intensely awake, as
+partners usually are, to each other's shortcomings.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne probably thought no more of Signor Bruno from the
+moment that he raised his hat and turned. A few moments later his
+thoughts were evidently far away.
+
+“The son of Vellacott,” he muttered, as he took a cigarette from a neat
+silver case. “How strange! And yet I am sorry. He might have done
+something in the world. That article was clever--very clever--curse it!
+He cannot yet be thirty. But one would expect something from the son of
+a man like Vellacott.”
+
+It was not yet nine o'clock when the Vicomte entered the dining-room by
+the open window. Only Hilda was there, and she was busy with the old
+leather post-bag. Among the letters there were several newspapers, and
+the Vicomte d'Audierne's expression underwent a slight change on
+perceiving them. His thin, mobile lips were closely pressed, and his
+chin--a very short one--was thrust forward. Behind the gentle spectacles
+his eyes assumed for a moment that singular blinking look which cannot
+be described in English, for it seemed to change their colour. In his
+country it would have been called _glauque_.
+
+“Ah, Hilda!” he said, approaching slowly, “do I see newspapers? I love a
+newspaper!”
+
+She handed him the _Times_ enveloped in a yellow wrapper, upon which was
+printed her brother's name and address.
+
+“Ah,” he said lightly, “the _Times_--estimable, but just a trifle
+opaque. Is that all?”
+
+His eyes were fixed upon two packets she held in her hand.
+
+“These are Mr. Bodery's,” she replied, looking at him with some
+concentration.
+
+“And what newspaper does Mr. Bodery read?” asked the Frenchman, holding
+out his hand.
+
+She hesitated for a moment. His position with regard to her was
+singular, his ascendency over her had never been tried. It was an
+unknown quantity; but the Vicomte d'Audierne knew his own power.
+
+“Let me look, little girl,” he said quietly in French.
+
+She handed him the newspapers, still watching his face.
+
+“The _Beacon_,” he muttered, reading aloud from the ornamented wrapper,
+“a weekly journal.”
+
+He threw the papers down and returned to the _Times_, which he unfolded.
+
+“Tell me, Hilda,” he said, “is Mr. Bodery connected with this weekly
+journal, the _Beacon?_”
+
+Her back was turned towards him. She was hanging up the key of the
+post-bag on a nail beside the fireplace.
+
+“Yes,” she replied, without looking round.
+
+“Is he the editor?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne turned the _Times_ carelessly.
+
+“Ah!” he muttered, “the phylloxera has appeared again.”
+
+For some time he appeared to be absorbed in this piece of news, then he
+spoke again.
+
+“I knew something of a man who writes for that newspaper--the _Beacon_.
+I knew his father very well.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+The Vicomte glanced at her.
+
+“Christian Vellacott,” he said.
+
+“We know him also,” she answered, moving towards the bell. He made a
+step forward as if about to offer to ring the bell for her, but she was
+too quick.
+
+When the butler entered the room, Hilda reminded him of some small
+omission in setting out the breakfast-table. The item required was in
+the room, and the man set it upon the table with some decision and a
+slightly aggrieved cast of countenance.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne raised his eyes, and then he looked very grave.
+He was a singular man in many ways, but those who worked with him were
+aware of one peculiarity which by its prominence cast others into the
+shade. He possessed a very useful gift rarely given to men--the gift of
+intuition. It was dangerous to _think_ when the eyes of the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were upon one's face. He had a knack of knowing one's
+thoughts before they were even formulated. He looked grave--almost
+distressed--on this occasion, because he knew something of which Hilda
+herself was ignorant. He knew that she was engaged to be married to one
+man while she loved another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+AN EMPTY NEST
+
+
+In the middle of breakfast a card was handed to Sidney Carew. He glanced
+at it, nodded his head as a signal to the servant that he need not wait,
+and slipped the card into his pocket. Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were watching him.
+
+Presently he rose from the table and left the room. Mrs. Carew became
+suddenly lively, and the meal went on unconcernedly. It was not long
+before Sidney came back.
+
+“Do you want,” he said to his mother, “some tickets for a concert at
+Brayport on the 4th of next month?”
+
+“What sort of a concert?”
+
+Sidney consulted the tickets.
+
+“In aid,” he read, “of an orphanage--the Police Orphanage.”
+
+“We always take six tickets,” put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to
+seek her pocket.
+
+“Mr. Bodery,” said Sidney, at this moment, “you have nothing to eat. Let
+me cut you some ham.”
+
+He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
+
+“I prefer to carve it myself,” he replied, proceeding to do so.
+
+Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was
+talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+“The London police are here already,” whispered Sidney; “shall I say
+anything about Vellacott?”
+
+“No,” replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
+
+“I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now.”
+
+“Right,” replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
+
+Sidney left the room again, and the Vicomte d'Audierne detected the
+quick, anxious glance directed by Hilda at his retreating form. A few
+minutes later young Carew rode away from the house in company with two
+men, while a fourth horseman followed closely.
+
+He who rode on Sidney's left hand was a tall, grizzled man, with the
+bearing of a soldier, while his second companion was fair and gentle in
+manner. The soldier was Captain Pharland, District Inspector of Police;
+the civilian was the keenest detective in London.
+
+“Of course,” said this man, who sat his hired horse with perfect
+confidence. “Of course we are too late, I know that.”
+
+He spoke softly and somewhat slowly; his manner was essentially that of
+a man accustomed to the entire attention of his hearers.
+
+“The old Italian,” he continued, “who went under the name of Signor
+Bruno, disappeared this morning. It is just possible that he will
+succeed in getting out of the country. It all depends upon who he is.”
+
+“Who do you suppose he is?” asked Captain Pharland. He was an upright
+old British soldier, and felt ill at ease in the society of his
+celebrated _confrère_.
+
+“I don't know,” was the frank reply; “you see this is not a criminal
+affair, it is entirely political; it is hardly in my line of country.”
+
+They rode on in silence for a space of time, during which Captain
+Pharland lighted a cigar and offered one to his companions. Sidney
+accepted, but the gentleman from London refused quietly, and without
+explanation. It was he who spoke first.
+
+“Mr. Carew,” he said, “can you tell me when this monastery was first
+instituted at Porton Abbey?”
+
+“Last autumn.”
+
+The thin flaxen eyebrows went up very high, until they were lost to
+sight beneath the hat brim.
+
+“Did they--ah--deal with the local tradesmen?”
+
+“No,” replied Sidney, “I think not. They received all their stores by
+train from London.”
+
+“And you have never seen any of the monks?”
+
+“No, never.”
+
+The fair-haired gentleman gave a little upward jerk of the head and
+smiled quietly for his own satisfaction.
+
+He did not speak again until the cavalcade reached Porton Abbey. The old
+place looked very peaceful in the morning light, standing grimly in the
+midst of that soft lush grass which only grows over old habitations.
+
+One side of the long, low building was in good repair, while the other
+half had been allowed to crumble away. The narrow Norman windows had
+been framed with unpainted wood and cheap glass. The broad doorway had
+been partly filled in with unseasoned deal, and an inexpensive door had
+been fitted up.
+
+The bell-knob was of brass, new and glaring in the morning sun. The
+gentleman from London, having alighted, took gently hold of this and
+rang. A faint tinkle rewarded him. It was the peculiar sound of a bell
+ringing in an empty house. After a moment's pause he wrenched the bell
+nearly out of its socket, and a long peal was the result. At last this
+ceased, and there was no sound in the house. The fair man looked back
+over his shoulder at Captain Pharland.
+
+“Gone!” he said tersely.
+
+Then he took from his breast pocket a little bar in the shape of a
+lever. He introduced the bent end of this between the door and the post,
+just above the keyhole, and gave a sharp jerk. There was a short crack
+like that made by the snapping of cast iron, and the door flew open.
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the man went in, followed closely by
+Sidney and Captain Pharland.
+
+The birds had flown. As mysteriously as they had come, the devotees had
+vanished. Bare walls met the eyes of the searchers. Porton Abbey stood
+empty again after its brief return to life and warmth, and indeed it
+scarcely looked habitable. The few personal effects of the simple monks
+had been removed; the walls and stone floors were rigidly clean; the
+small chapel showed signs of recent repair. There was an altar-cloth, a
+crucifix, and two brass candlesticks.
+
+The gentleman from London noted these items with a cynical smile. He had
+instinctively removed his hat; it is just possible that there was
+another side to this man's life--a side wherein he dealt with men who
+were not openly villains. He may have been a churchwarden at home.
+
+“Clever beggars!” he ejaculated, “they were ready for every emergency.”
+
+Captain Pharland pointed to the altar with his heavy riding-whip.
+
+“Then,” he said, “you think this all humbug?”
+
+“I do. They were no more monks than we are.”
+
+The search did not last much longer. Only a few rooms had been
+inhabited, and there was absolutely nothing left--no shred of evidence,
+no clue whatever.
+
+“Yes,” said the fair-haired man, when they had finished their
+inspection, “these were exceptional men; they knew their business.”
+
+As they left the house he paused, and closed the door again, remaining
+inside.
+
+“You see,” he said, “there is not even a bolt on the door. They knew
+better than to depend on bolts and bars. They knew a trick worth two of
+that.”
+
+At the gate they met a small, inoffensive man, with a brown beard and a
+walking-stick. There was nothing else to say about him; without the
+beard and the walking-stick there would have been nothing left to know
+him by.
+
+“That is my assistant,” announced the London detective quietly. “He has
+been down to the cliff.”
+
+The two men stepped aside together, and consulted in an undertone for
+some time. Then the last speaker returned to Captain Pharland and
+Sidney, who were standing together.
+
+“That newspaper,” he said, “the _Beacon_, is word for word right. My
+assistant has been to the spot. The arms and ammunition have undoubtedly
+been shipped from this place. The cases of cartridges mentioned by the
+man who wrote the article as having been seen, in a dream, half-way down
+the cliff, are actually there; my assistant has seen them.”
+
+Captain Pharland scratched his honest cavalry head. He was beginning to
+regret that he had accepted the post of district inspector of the
+police. Sidney Carew puffed at his pipe in silence.
+
+“Of course,” said the detective, “the newspaper man got all this
+information through the treachery of one of the party. I should like to
+get hold of that traitor. He would be a useful man to know.”
+
+In this the astute gentleman from London betrayed his extremely limited
+knowledge of the Society of Jesus. There are no traitors in that vast
+corporation.
+
+Sidney and Captain Pharland rode home together, leaving the two
+detectives to find their way to Brayport Station.
+
+They rode in silence, for the Captain was puzzled, and his companion was
+intensely anxious.
+
+Sidney Carew was beginning to realise that the events of the last three
+days had a graver import than they at first promised to conceal. The now
+celebrated article in the _Beacon_ opened his eyes, and he knew that the
+writer of it must have paid very dearly for his daring. It seemed
+extremely probable that the head and hands which had conceived and
+carried out this singular feat were both still for ever. Vellacott's own
+written tribute to the vast powers of the Jesuits, and their immovable
+habit of forcing a way through all obstacles to the end in view, was
+scarcely reassuring to his friends.
+
+Sidney knew and recognised the usual fertility of resource possessed by
+his friend; but against him were pitted men of greater gifts, of less
+scruple, and of infinitely superior training in the crooked ways of
+humanity. That he should have been so long without vouchsafing word or
+sign was almost proof positive that his absence was involuntary; and men
+capable of placing fire-arms into the hands of a maddened mob were not
+likely to hesitate in sacrificing a single life that chanced to stand in
+their path.
+
+As the young fellow rode along, immersed in meditation, he heard the
+sound of carriage-wheels, and, looking up, recognised his own grey horse
+and dog-cart. Mr. Bodery was driving, and driving hard. On seeing Sidney
+he pulled up, somewhat recklessly, in a manner which suggested that he
+had not always been a stout, middle-aged Londoner.
+
+“Been telegraphed for,” he shouted, “by the people at the office.
+Government is taking it up. Just time to catch the train.”
+
+And the editor of the _Beacon_ disappeared in a cloud of dust.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne was thus left in full possession of the field.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+FOUL PLAY
+
+
+When Christian Vellacott passed out of the drawing-room window in answer
+to what he naturally supposed to be a signal-whistle from Hilda or
+Sidney, he turned down the narrow, winding pathway that led to the moat.
+The extreme darkness, contrasting suddenly with the warm light of the
+room he had just left, caused him to walk slowly with outstretched
+hands. Floating cobwebs broke across his face, and frequently he stopped
+to brush the clinging fibre away. The intense darkness was somewhat
+relieved when he reached the edge of the moat, and the clear sky was
+overhead instead of interlocked branches. He could just discern that
+Hilda was not at her usual seat upon the rustic bench farther towards
+the end of the moat, and he stopped short, with a sudden misgiving, at
+the spot where the path met, at right angles, the broader stone walk
+extending the full length of the water.
+
+He was on the point of whistling softly the familiar refrain, when there
+was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A rush, a sudden shock, and a
+pair of muscular hands were closed round his throat, dragging him
+backwards. But Christian stood like a rock. Quick as thought he seized
+the two wrists, which were small and flat, and wrenched them apart.
+Then, stepping back with one foot in order to obtain surer leverage, he
+lifted his assailant from the ground, swung him round, and literally let
+him fly into the moat--with a devout hope that it might be Signor Bruno.
+The man hurtled through the darkness, without a cry or sound, and fell
+face foremost into the water, five yards from the edge, throwing into
+the air a shower of spray.
+
+Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than
+their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of
+endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly
+developed. The exertion of lifting his assailant and swinging him away
+into the darkness was great, although the man's weight was nothing very
+formidable, and Christian staggered back a few paces without, however,
+actually losing his balance. At this moment two men sprang upon him from
+behind and dragged him to the ground. He felt at once that this was a
+very different matter. Either of these two could have overpowered him
+singly. Their thick arms encompassed him like the coils of a snake, and
+there was about their heavy woollen clothing a faint odour of salt
+water. He knew that they were sailors. Recognising that it was of no
+avail, he still fought on, as Englishmen do. One of the men had wound a
+large woollen scarf round his mouth, the other was slowly but very
+surely succeeding in pinioning his arms. Then a third assailant came,
+and Christian knew by the wet hand (for he used one arm only) that it
+was the smallest of the three, who had suffered for his temerity.
+
+“Quick, quick!” this man whispered in French. With his uninjured hand he
+twisted the scarf tighter and tighter until Christian gasped for breath.
+
+Still the Englishman struggled and writhed upon the ground, while the
+hard breathing of the two sailors testified that it was no mean
+resistance. Suddenly the one-armed man loosened the scarf, but before
+Christian could recover his breath a handkerchief was pressed over his
+lips, and a sweet, pungent odour filled his nostrils.
+
+“Three to one,” he gasped, and quite suddenly his head fell forward,
+while his clutch relaxed.
+
+“He is a brave man,” said the dripping leader of the attack, as he stood
+upright and touched his damaged shoulder gently and tentatively. “Now
+quick to the carriage with him. You have not managed this well, my
+friends, not at all well.”
+
+The speaker raised his cold hand to his forehead, which was wet, less
+perhaps from past exertion than from the agony he was enduring.
+
+“But, monsieur,” grumbled one of the sailors in humble self-defence, “he
+is made of steel!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pale light of a grey dawn was stealing slowly up into the riven sky,
+lighting up the clouds which were flying eastward on the shoulder of a
+boisterous wind. The heavy grey sea, heaving, surging, and hissing,
+threw itself upwards into broken spray, which flew to leeward at a sharp
+angle, blown from the summit of the wave like froth from an over-filled
+tankard. After a night of squally restlessness, accompanied by a driving
+rain that tasted brackish, things had settled down with the dawn into a
+steady, roaring gale of wind. In the growing light sea-gulls rose
+triumphantly with smooth breasts bravely facing the wind.
+
+In the midst of this a dripping vessel laboured sorely. The green water
+rushed from side to side over her slippery, filthy deck as she rolled,
+and carried with it a tangled mass of ropes, a wooden bucket, a capstan
+bar, and--ominous sign--a soaking, limp fur cap. The huge boom, reaching
+nearly the whole length of the little vessel, swung wildly from side to
+side as the yawl dipped her bulwarks to the receding wave. It was
+certain death for a man to attempt to stand upright upon the sopping
+deck, for the huge spar swung shoulder high. The steersman, crouching
+low by his strong tiller, was doing his best to avoid a clean sweep, but
+only a small jib and the mizzen were standing with straining clews and
+gleaming seams. Crouching beneath the weather bulwarks, with their feet
+wedged against the low combing of the hatch, three men were vainly
+endeavouring to secure the boom, and to disentangle the clogged ropes.
+Two were huge fellows with tawny, washed-out beards innocent of brush or
+comb, their faces were half hidden by rough sou'-westers, and they were
+enveloped from head to foot in oilskins from which the water ran in
+little rills. The third was Christian Vellacott, who looked very wet
+indeed. The water was dripping from his cuffs and running down his face.
+His black dress-clothes were clinging to him with a soppy hindrance,
+while the feet firmly planted against the combing of the hatch were
+encased in immaculate patent-leather shoes, and the salt water ran off
+silk socks. It would have been very funny if it were not that Fortune
+invariably mingles her strokes of humour most heedlessly with sadder
+things. Christian Vellacott was apparently unconscious of the humour of
+the situation. He was working patiently and steadily, as men must needs
+work when fighting Nature, and his half-forgotten sea-craft was already
+coming back. Beneath his steady hands something akin to order was slowly
+being achieved; he was coiling and disentangling the treacherous rope,
+of which the breaking had cast the boom adrift, laying low a good
+seaman.
+
+Farther forward upon the hatch lay the limp body of a very big man. His
+matted head was bare, and the dead, brown face, turned upward to its
+Maker, jerked from side to side as the vessel heaved. The stalwart legs
+were encased in greasy sea-boots, deeply wrinkled, and the coils of a
+huge scarf of faded purple lay upon his broad breast, where they had
+been dragged down by a hasty hand in order to see more clearly the still
+features.
+
+At the dead man's side knelt upon the deck a small, spare figure clad in
+black and wearing his left arm in a sling. With his right hand he held a
+crucifix to the blue lips that would never breathe a prayer to the
+Virgin again. The small mouth and refined features of the praying man
+were strangely out of keeping with his tempestuous surroundings.
+Unmindful, however, of wind and waves alike, he knelt and prayed
+audibly. Each lurch of the vessel threw him forward, so that, in order
+to save himself from falling, he was obliged to press heavily upon the
+dead man's throat and breast; but this he heeded not. His girlish blue
+eyes were half closed in an ecstasy of religious fervour, and the pale,
+narrow face wore a light that was not reflected from sea or sky. This
+was the man who had unhesitatingly attacked Vellacott, had dared to pit
+his small strength, more of nerve than of muscle, against the young
+Englishman's hardened sinews. Violence in itself was most abhorrent to
+him; it had no part in his nature; and consequently, by the strange
+tenets of Ignatius Loyola's disciples, he was condemned to a course of
+it. Any objectionable duty, such as this removal of Vellacott, was
+immediately assigned to him in the futile endeavour of subjecting the
+soul to the brain. A true Jesuit must have no nature of his own and no
+individuality. He is simply a machine, with likes and dislikes,
+conscience and soul subject to the will of his superior, whose mind is
+also under the same arbitrary control; and so on to the top. If at the
+head there were God, it would be well; but man is there, and consequently
+the whole society is a gigantic mistake. To be a sincere member of it, a
+man must be a half-witted fool, a religious fanatic, or a rogue for whom
+no duplicity is too scurrilous, even though it amount to blasphemy.
+
+René Drucquer, the man kneeling on the slimy deck, was as nearly a
+religious fanatic as his soft, sweet nature would allow. With greater
+bodily strength and attendant greater passions, he would have been a
+simple monomaniac. In him the passion for self-devotion was singularly
+strong, and contact with men had cooled it down into an unusually deep
+sense of duty.
+
+Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of
+self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more
+akin to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where
+the devil drags most people, and René Drucquer was not by any means the
+first man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly
+misled by a blind devotion to duty.
+
+When throwing himself upon Christian Vellacott, no thought of possible
+danger to his own person had restrained or caused him a moment's
+hesitation. His blind faith in the righteousness of his cause was,
+however, on the wane. This disciple of St. Ignatius might have lived a
+true and manly life three hundred years earlier when his master trod the
+earth, but the march of intellect had trodden down the “Constitutions”
+ years before René Drucquer came to study them. An ignoramus and a zealot
+who lived nearly four centuries ago can be no guide or help to men of
+the present day, and this young priest was overshadowed by the saddest
+doubt that comes to men on earth--the doubt of his own Creed.
+
+While Christian Vellacott was assisting the sailors he glanced
+occasionally towards the kneeling priest, and on the narrow, intelligent
+face he read a truth that never was forgotten. He saw that René Drucquer
+was unconscious of his surroundings--unmindful of the fact that he was
+on board a disabled vessel at the mercy of the wild wind. His whole
+being was absorbed in prayer: this priest remembered only that the soul
+of the great, rough, disfigured man was winging its serene way to the
+land where no clouds are. Christian was not an impressionable
+man--journalism had killed all that--nor, it is to be feared, did he
+devote much thought to religion; but he recognised goodness when he met
+it. The young journalist's interest was aroused, and in that trifling
+incident lay the salvation of the priest. From that small beginning came
+the gleam of light that was to illuminate gloriously the darkness of a
+mistaken life.
+
+Chance had capriciously ruled that the hand that had dislocated the
+Abbé's arm should set it again, and the dead sailor lying on the sticky,
+tarred hatch-cover had helped. The “patron” of the boat, for he it was
+whose head had been smashed by the spar, had held the priest's
+trembling, swollen shoulder while Christian's steady hands gave the
+painful jerk required to slip the joint back into its socket. The great,
+coarse lips which had trembled a little, with a true Frenchman's
+sympathy for suffering, were now blue and drawn; the stout, tender hands
+were nerveless.
+
+The priest prayed on, while the men worked near at hand seeking to
+restore order, and to repair the damages made by sea and wind. They had
+got over their sullen, native shyness on finding that Christian could
+speak French like the Abbé and was almost as good a sailor as
+themselves. One offered him a rough blue jersey, while another placed a
+gold-embroidered Sunday waistcoat at his disposal, with a visible
+struggle between kindness of heart and economy. The first was accepted,
+but the waistcoat was given back with a kind laugh and an assurance that
+the jersey was sufficient.
+
+The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any
+ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abbé
+Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor,
+and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter,
+he rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute.
+The authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had
+sworn to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his
+Master.
+
+At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the
+mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
+
+Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
+
+“Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the
+dead to lie there in this wind and storm.”
+
+“I am willing,” answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the
+dead man lay.
+
+“Then, perhaps--Monsieur,” began the Breton with some hesitation.
+
+“Yes,” answered Christian encouragingly, “what is it?”
+
+“Perhaps Monsieur will speak to--to the Abbé. It is that we do not like
+to disturb him in prayer.”
+
+The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
+
+“I will do so,” he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and
+touched René Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the
+touch had been repeated.
+
+“Yes,” he murmured; “yes. What do you want?”
+
+Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could
+not hear them.
+
+“Is it not better to take him below?” he shouted.
+
+Then for the first time did the priest appear to remember that this was
+not one of the sailors.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” he said, rising from his knees. “You are right; it
+is better. But I am afraid the men will not assist me. They are afraid
+of touching the dead when they are afloat.”
+
+“I will help you,” said Christian simply, “and that man also, I think,
+because he proposed it.”
+
+With a motion of the head he indicated Hoel Grall, upon whom the command
+of the little vessel had now devolved. The man was better educated than
+his companions, and spoke French fluently, but in the Breton character
+superstition is so deeply rooted that generations of education will
+scarcely eradicate it.
+
+The priest looked into the Englishman's face with a gentle wonder in his
+eyes, which were shadowy with the fervour of his recent devotions. The
+two men were crouching low upon the deck, grasping the black rail with
+their left hands; the water washed backwards and forwards around their
+feet.
+
+It was the first time they had seen each other face to face in open
+daylight, and their eyes met quietly and searchingly as they swayed from
+side to side with the heavy lurching of the ship. The Englishman spoke
+first.
+
+“You must leave it to us,” he said calmly. “You could do nothing in this
+heavy sea with your one arm!”
+
+The gentle blue eyes were again filled with wonder, and presently the
+priest's intellectual face relaxed into a shadowy smile, which did not
+affect his thin red lips.
+
+“You are very good,” he murmured simply.
+
+Christian did not hear this remark. He had turned away to call Grall
+towards him, and was about to move towards the body lying on the hatch,
+when the priest called him back.
+
+“Monsieur,” he said.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Tell me,” continued René Drucquer quickly, as if in doubt, “are you
+Christian Vellacott?”
+
+“Of course!”
+
+The priest looked relieved, and at the same time he appeared to be
+making an effort to restrain himself, as if he had been betrayed into a
+greater show of feeling than was desirable. When he at length spoke in
+reply to the Englishman's obvious desire for some explanation of the
+strange question, his voice was singularly cold, and modulated in such a
+manner as to deprive it of any expression, while his eyes were fixed on
+the deck.
+
+“You are not such as I expected,” he said.
+
+Christian looked down at him with straightforward keenness, and he saw
+the priest's eyelids move uneasily beneath his gaze. Mixing with many
+men as he had done, he had acquired a certain mental sureness of touch,
+like that of an artist with his brush when he has handled many subjects
+and many effects. He divined that René Drucquer had been led to expect a
+violent, head strong man, and he could not restrain a smile as he turned
+away. Before going, however, he said:
+
+“At present it is a matter of saving the ship, and our lives. My own
+affairs can wait, but when this gale is over you may rest assured they
+shall have my attention.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+WINGED
+
+
+Beyond this one allusion to their respective positions, Christian was
+silent regarding his captivity. After the gale subsided the weather took
+a turn for the better, and clear skies by day and night rendered
+navigation an easy matter.
+
+With characteristic daring the young Englishman had decided to offer no
+resistance and to seize no opportunities of escape until the termination
+of the voyage. The scheme half-formed within his mind was to see the
+voyage through, and effect his escape soon after landing in France. It
+was not without a certain adventurous fascination, and in the meantime
+there was much to interest him in his surroundings. If this young Abbé
+was a typical member of the Society of Jesus, he was worth studying. If
+this simplicity was an acquired cloak to deeper thought, it was worth
+penetrating, and if the man's entire individuality had been submerged in
+the mysterious system followed in the College of Jesuits, it was no
+waste of time to seek for the real man beneath the cultivated suavity
+that hid all feeling.
+
+The more the two young men saw of each other the closer grew their
+intimacy, and with growing intimacy the domination of the stronger
+individuality was more marked in its influence.
+
+To the frail and nervous priest this young Englishman was a new
+experience; his vitality and calm, straightforward manner of speech were
+such as the Abbé had never met with before. Such men and better men
+there were and are in the Society of Jesus, otherwise the power of the
+great Order would not be what it is; but René Drucquer had never come in
+contact with them. According to the wonderful code of laws laid down by
+its great founder (who, in other circumstances, might have prepared the
+world for the coming of such a man as Napoleon the First), the education
+of the young is entrusted to such brethren as are of slower parts; and
+from these honest, but by no means intelligent, men the young Abbé had
+learnt his views upon mankind in general. The creed they taught without
+understanding it themselves was that no man must give way to natural
+impulses; that he must restrain and quell and quench himself into a
+machine, without individuality or impulse, without likes or dislikes;
+that he must persistently perform such duties as are abhorrent to him,
+eat such food as nauseates him, and submit to the dictates of such men
+as hate him. And these, forsooth, are the teachings of one who, in his
+zealous shortsightedness, claims to have received his inspiration direct
+from the lips of the Great Teacher.
+
+René Drucquer found himself in the intimate society of a man who said
+what he thought, acted as he conceived best, and held himself
+responsible, for word or deed, to none on earth. It was his first
+mission after a long and rigorous training. This was the first enemy of
+the Holy Church against whom he had been sent to fight, armed with the
+immeasurable power of the greatest brotherhood the world has ever known,
+protected by the shadow of its blessing; and there was creeping into the
+young priest's heart a vague and terrible suspicion that there might be
+two sides to the question. All the careful years of training, all the
+invisible meshes of the vast net that had been gathering its folds round
+him since he had first donned the dress of a Probationer of the College
+of Jesuits, were powerless to restrain the flight of a pure and
+guileless heart to the height of truth. Despite the countless one-sided
+and ingenious arguments instilled into his eager young mind in guise of
+mental armour against the dangers of the world, René Drucquer found
+himself, at the very first contact with the world, unconvinced that he
+was fighting upon the righteous side.
+
+Brest had been left behind in a shimmering blue haze. Ahead lay the grim
+Pointe de Raz, with its short, thick-set lighthouse facing the vast
+Atlantic. Out to sea, in the fading glory of sunset, lay the long, low
+Ile-de-Sein, while here and there black rocks peeped above the water.
+The man holding the tiller was a sardine fisher, to whom every rock,
+every ripple, of these troubled waters was familiar. Fearlessly he
+guided the yawl close round by the high cliff--the westernmost point of
+Europe--but with the sunset the wind had dropped and the sails hung
+loosely, while the broad bows glided onwards with no sound of parted
+water.
+
+The long Atlantic roll was swinging lazily in, and the yawl rose to it
+sleepily, with a long, slow movement. The distant roar of the surf upon
+the Finisterre coast rose in the peaceful atmosphere like a lullaby. The
+holy calm of sunset, the hush of lowering night, and the presence of the
+only man who had ever drawn him with the strange, unaccountable bond
+that we call sympathy, moved the heart of the young priest as it had
+never been moved before by anything but religious fervour.
+
+For the first time he spoke of himself. The solitary heart suddenly
+broke through the restraining influence of a mistaken education, and
+unfolded its sad story of a misread existence. Through no fault of his
+own, by no relaxation of supervising care on the part of his teachers,
+the Jesuit had run headlong into the very danger which his Superior had
+endeavoured to avoid. He had formed a friendship. Fortunately the friend
+was a _man_, otherwise René Drucquer were lost indeed.
+
+“I should think,” he said musingly, “that no two lives have ever been so
+widely separated as yours and mine, and yet our paths have met!”
+
+Vellacott took the cigarette from his lips. It was made of a vile
+tobacco, called “Petit Caporal,” but there was nothing better to be had,
+and he was in the habit of making the best of everything. Therefore he
+blew into the air a spiral column of thin blue smoke with a certain
+sense of enjoyment before replying. He also was looking across the
+glassy expanse of water, but his gaze was steady and thoughtful, while
+his companion's eyes were dreamy and almost vacant. The light shone full
+upon his face, and a physician--or a mother--would have noticed,
+perhaps, that there was beneath his eyes a dull shadow, while his lips
+were dry and somewhat drawn.
+
+“Yes,” he said at length, with grave sympathy, “we have drifted together
+like two logs in a torrent.”
+
+The young priest changed his position, drawing in one leg and clasping
+his hands round his knee. The movement caused his long black garment to
+fall aside, displaying the dark purple stockings and rough shoes. The
+hands clasped round his knee were long and white, with peculiarly flat
+wrists.
+
+“One log,” he said vaguely, “was bound for a certain goal, the other was
+drifting.”
+
+Vellacott turned slowly and glanced at his companion's face. The smoke
+from the bad cigarette drifted past their heads to windward. He was not
+sure whether the priest was speaking from a professional point of view,
+with reference to heresy and the unknown goal to which all heretics are
+drifting, or not. Had René Drucquer been a good Jesuit, he would have
+seen his opportunity of saying a word in season. But this estimable
+desire found no place in his heart just then.
+
+“Your life,” he continued in a monotone, “is already mapped out--like
+the voyage of a ship traced across a chart. Is it not so? I have
+imagined it like that.”
+
+Vellacott continued to smoke for some moments in silence. He sat with
+his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail,
+and his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in
+his pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his
+motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for
+he spoke at once with a smile on his face.
+
+“I think it is best,” he said, “not to think too much about it. From
+what experience I have had, I have come to the humiliating conclusion
+that men have very little to do with the formation of their own lives. A
+ship-captain may sit down and mark his course across the chart with the
+greatest accuracy, the most profound knowledge of wind and current, and
+the keenest foresight; but that will have very little effect upon the
+actual voyage.”
+
+“But,” argued the priest in a low voice, “is it not better to have an
+end in view--to have a certain aim, and a method, more or less formed,
+of attaining it?”
+
+“Most men have that,” answered Christian, “but do not know that they
+have it!”
+
+“_You_ have?”
+
+Christian smoked meditatively. A month ago he would have said “Yes”
+ without a moment's hesitation.
+
+“And you know it, I think,” added the priest slowly. He was perfectly
+innocent of any desire to extract details of his companion's life from
+unwilling lips, and Christian knew it. He was convinced that, whatever
+part René Drucquer had attempted to play in the past, he was sincere at
+that moment, and he divined that the young Jesuit was weakly giving way
+to a sudden desire to speak to some fellow-being of his own life--to lay
+aside the strict reserve demanded by the tenets of the Society to which
+he was irrevocably bound. In his superficial way, Christian Vellacott
+had studied men as well as letters, and he was not ignorant of the
+influence exercised over the human mind by such trifling circumstances
+as moonshine upon placid water, distant music, the solemn hush of
+eventide, or the subtle odour of a beloved flower. If René Drucquer was
+on the point of committing a great mistake, he at least would not urge
+him on towards it, so he smoked in silence, looking practical and
+unsympathetic.
+
+The priest laughed a little short, deprecating laugh, in which there was
+no shadow of mirth.
+
+“I have not,” he said, rubbing his slim hands together, palm to palm,
+slowly, “and--I know it.”
+
+“It will come,” suggested the Englishman, after a pause.
+
+The priest shook his head with a little smile, which was infinitely
+sadder than tears. His cold silence was worse than an outburst of grief;
+it was like the keen frost that comes before snow, harder to bear than
+the snow itself. Presently he moved slightly towards his companion so
+that their arms were touching, and in his soft modulated voice, trained
+to conceal emotion, he told his story.
+
+“My friend,” he said, intertwining his fingers, which were very
+restless, “no man can be the worse for hearing the story of another
+man's life. Before you judge of me, listen to what my life has been. I
+have never known a friend or relation. I have never had a boy companion.
+Since the age of thirteen, when I was placed under the care of the holy
+fathers, I have never spoken to a woman. I have been taught that life
+was given us to be spent in prayer; to study, to train ourselves, and to
+follow in the footsteps of the blessed Saint Ignatius. But how are we
+who have only lived half a life, to imitate him, whose youth and
+middle-age were passed in one of the most vicious courts of Europe
+before he thought of turning to holy things? How are we, who are buried
+in an atmosphere of mystic religion, to cope with sin of which we know
+nothing, and when we are profoundly ignorant of its evil results? These
+things I know now, but I did not suspect them when I was in the college.
+There all manliness, and all sense of manly honour, were suppressed and
+insidiously forbidden. We were taught to be spies upon each other, to
+cringe servilely to our superiors, and to deal treacherously with such
+as were beneath us. Hypocrisy--innate, unfathomable hypocrisy--was
+instilled into our minds so cunningly that we did not recognise it.
+Every movement of the head or hands, every glance of the eyes, and every
+word from the lips was to be the outcome--not of our own hearts--but of
+a law laid down by the General himself. It simply comes to this: we are
+not men at all, but machines carefully planned and fitted together, so
+as to render sin almost an impossibility. When tempted to sin we are
+held back, not by the fear of God, but by the thought that discovery is
+almost certain, and that the wrath of our Superior is withheld by no
+scruple of human kindness.... But remember, I knew nothing of this
+before I took my vows. To me it was a glorious career. I became an
+enthusiast. At last the time came when I was eligible; I offered myself
+to the Society, and was accepted. Then followed a period of hard work; I
+learned Spanish and Italian, giving myself body and soul to the work.
+Even the spies set to watch me day and night, waking and sleeping,
+feeding and fasting, could but confess that I was sincere. One day the
+Provincial sent for me--my mission had come. I was at last to go forth
+into the world to do the work of my Master. Trembling with eagerness, I
+went to his room; the Provincial was a young man with a beautiful face,
+but it was like the face of the dead. There was no colour, no life, no
+soul, no heart in it. He spoke in a low, measured voice that had neither
+pity nor love.
+
+“When that door closed behind me an hour later the scales had fallen
+from my eyes. I began to suspect that this great edifice, built not of
+stones but of men's hearts, was nothing less than an unrighteous
+mockery. With subtle, double-meaning words, the man whom I had been
+taught to revere as the authorised representative of Our Lord, unfolded
+to me my duties in the future. The work of God, he called it; and to do
+this work he placed in my hands the tools of the devil. What I suspected
+then, I know now.”
+
+The young Englishman sat and listened with increasing interest. His
+cigarette had gone out long before.
+
+“And,” he said presently, in his quiet, reassuring voice, which seemed
+to infer that no difficulty in life was quite insurmountable--“And, if
+you did not know it then, how have you learnt it now?”
+
+“From you, my friend,” replied the priest earnestly, “from you and from
+these rough sailors. They, at least, are men. But you have taught me
+this.”
+
+Christian Vellacott made no answer. He knew that what his companion said
+was true. Unconsciously, and with no desire to do so, he had opened this
+young zealot's eyes to what a man's life may be. The tale was infinitely
+sad, but with characteristic promptitude the journalist was already
+seeking a remedy without stopping to think over the pathos of this
+mistaken career.
+
+Presently René Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again,
+and he continued his story.
+
+“He told me,” he said, “that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman
+Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and
+queens' boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is
+as firm as ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent. It lies like
+a huge mill, perfect but idle, waiting for the grist that will never
+come to be crushed between its ruthless wheels. He told me that the sway
+over kings and princes has lapsed with the growth of education, but that
+we hold still within our hands a lever of greater power, though the
+danger of wielding it is proportionately greater to those who would use
+it. This power is the People. Before us lies a course infinitely more
+perilous than the sinuous paths trodden by the first followers of St.
+Ignatius as they advanced towards power. It lies on the troubled waters;
+it leads over the restless, mobile heads of the people.”
+
+Again the priest ceased speaking. There was a strange thrill of
+foreboding in his voice, which, however, had never been raised above a
+monotone. The two men sat side by side, as still as the dead. They gazed
+vacantly into the golden gates of the west, and each in his own way
+thought over these things. Assuredly the Angel of Silence hung over that
+little vessel then, for no sound from earth or sea or sky came to wake
+those two thinkers from their reverie.
+
+At last the Englishman's full, steady tones broke the hush.
+
+“This,” he said, “has not been learnt in two days. You must have known
+it before. If you knew it, why are you what you are? You never have been
+a real Jesuit, and you never will be.”
+
+“I swore to the Mother of God--I am bound....”
+
+“By an oath forced upon you!”
+
+“No! By an oath I myself begged to take!”
+
+This was the bitterest drop in the priest's cup. Everything had been
+done of his own free will--at his own desire. During eleven years a
+network of perfidy had been cunningly woven around him, mesh after mesh,
+day after day. As he grew older, so grew in strength the warp of the
+net. Thus, in the fulness of time, everything culminated to the one
+great end in view. Nothing was demanded (for that is an essential rule),
+everything must be offered freely, to be met by an apparently hesitating
+acceptance. Constant dropping wears the hardest stone in time.
+
+“But,” said Vellacott, “you can surely represent to your Provincial that
+you are not fitted for the work put before you.”
+
+“My friend,” interrupted the priest, “we can represent nothing. We are
+supposed to have no natural inclinations. All work should be welcome,
+none too difficult, no task irksome.”
+
+“You can volunteer for certain services,” said Vellacott.
+
+The priest shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“What services?” he asked.
+
+The Englishman looked at him for some seconds in the fading light. In
+his quick way he had already found a remedy, and he was wondering
+whether he should propose it or hold his peace. He was not afraid of
+incurring responsibility. The young Jesuit had appealed to him, and
+there was a way out of the difficulty. Christian felt that things could
+not be made worse than they were. In a moment his mind was made up.
+
+“As you know,” he said, “the Society has few friends and a multitude of
+enemies. I am afraid I am an enemy; but there is one redeeming point in
+the Jesuit record which we are all bound to recognise, and I recognise
+it unhesitatingly. You have done more to convert the heathen than the
+rest of the Christian Church put together. Whatever the motive has been,
+whatever the results have proved to be, the missionary work is
+unrivalled. Why do you not offer yourself for that?”
+
+As he asked the question Christian glanced at his companion's face. He
+saw the sad eyes light up suddenly with a glow that was not of this dull
+earth at all; he saw the thin, pure face suddenly acquire a great and
+wondrous peace. The young priest rose to his feet, and, crossing the
+deck, he stood holding with one hand to the tarred rigging, his back
+turned towards the Englishman, looking over the still waters.
+
+Presently he returned, and laying his thin hand upon Christian's
+shoulder, he said, “My friend, you have saved me. In the first shock of
+my disillusion I never thought of this. I think--I think there is work
+for me yet.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+
+
+With the morning tide, the _Deux Frères_ entered Audierne harbour.
+The rough sailors crossed themselves as they looked towards the old
+wooden cross upon the headland, facing the great Atlantic. They thought
+of the dead “patron” in the little cabin below, and the joyous young
+wife, whose snowy head-dress they could almost distinguish upon the pier
+among the waiters there.
+
+Both Christian Vellacott and the Abbé were on deck. They had been there
+the whole night. They had lain motionless side by side upon the old
+sail. Day vanished, night stole on, and day came again without either
+having closed his eyes or opened his lips.
+
+They now stood near the steersman, and looked upon the land with an
+interest which only comes after heavy weather at sea. To the Englishman
+this little fishing-port was unknown, and he did not care to ask. The
+vessel was now dropping up the river, with anchor swinging, and the
+women on the pier were walking inland slowly, keeping pace and waving a
+greeting from time to time in answer to a husband's shout.
+
+“That is she, Monsieur L'Abbé,” said Hoel Grall, with a peculiar twitch
+of his coarse mouth, as if from pain. “That is she with the little
+child!”
+
+René Drucquer bowed his head, saying nothing. The _Deux Frères_
+slowly edged alongside the old quay in her usual berth above the sardine
+boats. A board was thrown across from the rail to the quay, and the
+priest stepped ashore alone. He went towards the smiling young wife
+without any hesitation; she stood there surrounded by the wives of the
+sailors on board the _Deux Frères_, with her snowy coiffe and
+spotless apron, holding her golden-haired child by the hand. All the
+women curtsied as the priest approached, for in these western provinces
+the Church is still respected.
+
+“My daughter,” said the Abbé, “I have bad news for you.”
+
+She smiled still, misunderstanding his calmness.
+
+“Ah, mon père,” she said, “it is the season of the great winds now. What
+a long voyage it has been! And you say it is a bad one. My husband is no
+doubt in despair, but another voyage is sure to be better; is it not so?
+I have not seen Loic upon the deck, but then my sight is not good. I am
+not from Audierne, mon père, but from inland where we cannot see so
+far.”
+
+The priest changed colour; no smile came into his face in response to
+hers. He stepped nearer, and placed his hand upon her comely arm.
+
+“It has been a very bad voyage for your poor husband,” he said. “The
+Holy Virgin give you comfort.”
+
+Slowly the colour vanished from the woman's round checks. Her soft,
+short-sighted eyes filled with a terrible, hopeless dismay as she stared
+at the young priest's bowed head. The women round now began to
+understand, and they crossed themselves with a very human prayer of
+thankfulness that their husbands and brothers had been spared.
+
+“Loic is dead?” she said, in a rasping voice. For some moments she stood
+motionless, then, in obedience to some strange and unaccountable
+instinct, she began turning up the sleeves of her rough brown dress, as
+if she were going to begin some kind of manual work.
+
+“The Holy Virgin comfort you, my daughter; and you, my little one,” said
+the priest, as he stooped to lay his hand upon the golden head of the
+child.
+
+“Loic is dead! Loic is dead!” spread from mouth to mouth.
+
+“That comes from having ought to do with the priests,” muttered the
+customs officer, beneath his heavy moustache. He was an old soldier, who
+read the newspapers, and spoke in a loud voice on Sunday evenings in the
+Café de l'Ouest.
+
+The Abbé heard the remark, and looked at the man, but said nothing. He
+remembered that no Jesuit must defend himself.
+
+The girl-widow stepped on board the untidy vessel in a mechanical,
+dreamy way. She dragged the little trotting child almost roughly after
+her. Christian Vellacott stood at the low cabin door. He was in the
+dress of a Probationer of the Society of Jesus, which he had assumed at
+the request, hesitatingly made, of René Drucquer, and for the very
+practical reason that he had nothing else to wear except a torn
+dress-coat and Hoel Grall's Sunday garments.
+
+“Bless me, mon père,” lisped the little one, stopping in front of him.
+
+“Much good will a blessing of mine do you, little one,” he muttered in
+English. Nevertheless, he lifted the child up and kissed her rosy cheek.
+He kept her by his side, letting the mother go to her dead husband
+alone.
+
+When the woman came from the cabin half-an-hour later, hard-faced, and
+with dry, stony eyes, she found the child sitting on Christian's knee,
+prattling away in broken French. Tears came to her aching eyes at the
+sight of the happy, fatherless child; the hard Breton heart was touched
+at last.
+
+The Abbé's instructions were to keep his prisoner confined under lock
+and key in the cabin until nightfall, when he was to be removed inland
+in a carriage under the surveillance of two lay-brethren. Christian,
+however, never for a moment doubted his ability to escape when he wished
+to do so, and acting upon this conviction he volunteered a promise not
+to attempt evasion. Dressed as he was, in the garments of a probationer,
+there was no necessity of awaiting nightfall, as there was nothing
+unusual about him to attract attention. Accordingly the departure from
+the _Deux Frères_ was fixed for midday. In the meantime the young
+Englishman found himself the object of unremitting attention on the part
+of two smooth-faced individuals who looked like domestic servants. These
+two men had come on board at the same moment that the Abbé stepped
+ashore, and Christian noticed that no word of greeting or recognition
+passed between them and René Drucquer. This was to him a further proof
+of the minuteness of organisation which has characterised the Order
+since Ignatius Loyola wrote down his wonderful “Constitutions,” in which
+no trifle was too small to be unworthy of attention, no petty dramatic
+effect devoid of significance. Each man appeared to have received his
+instructions separately, and with no regard to those of his companion.
+
+In the meantime, however, the journalist had not been wasting his time.
+Although he still looked upon the whole affair as a very good farce, he
+had not forgotten the fact that his absence must necessarily have been
+causing endless anxiety in England. During the long night of wakefulness
+he had turned over in his mind every possible event at St. Mary Western
+since his sudden disappearance. Again and again he found himself
+wondering how they would all take it, and his conclusions were
+remarkably near to the truth. He guessed that Mr. Bodery would, sooner
+or later, be called in to give his opinion, and he sincerely hoped that
+the course taken would be the waiting tactics which had actually been
+proposed by the editor of the _Beacon_.
+
+In this hope he determined to communicate with Sidney Carew, and having
+possessed himself of a blank Customs Declaration Form, he proceeded to
+write a letter upon the reverse side of it. In this he told his friend
+to have no anxiety, and, above all, to institute no manner of search,
+because he would return to England as soon as his investigations were
+complete. The letter was written in guarded language, because Christian
+had arrived at the conclusion that the only means he had of despatching
+it was through the hands of René Drucquer. The crew of the _Deux
+Frères_ were not now allowed to speak with him. He possessed no
+money, and it would have been folly to attempt posting an unstamped
+letter addressed to England in a little place like Audierne.
+
+Accordingly, as they were preparing to leave the vessel (the care of
+poor Loic having been handed over to the village curé), Christian boldly
+tendered his request.
+
+“No, my friend, I cannot do it,” replied the Abbé promptly.
+
+“Read it yourself,” urged Christian. “No harm can possibly come of it.
+My friend will do exactly as I tell him. In fact, it will be to your
+benefit that it should go.”
+
+Still the Jesuit shook his head. Suddenly, however, in the midst of an
+argument on the part of the Englishman, he gave in and took the letter.
+
+“Give it to me,” he said; “I will risk it.”
+
+Christian watched him place the letter within the breast of his
+“soutane,” unread. The two lay-brethren were noting every movement.
+
+Presently the priest removed his broad-brimmed hat and passed through
+the little doorway into the dimly lighted cabin where the dead sailor
+lay. He left the door ajar. After glancing at the dead man's still face
+he fell upon his knees by the side of the low bunk, and remained with
+bowed head for some moments. At last he rose to his feet and took the
+Englishman's letter from his breast. The envelope was unclosed, and with
+smooth, deliberate touch he opened the letter and read it by the light
+of the candle at the dead man's head, of which the rays were to
+illuminate the wandering soul upon its tortuous way. The priest read
+each word slowly and carefully, for his knowledge of English was
+limited. Then he stood for some seconds motionless, with arms hanging
+straight, staring at the flame of the candle with weary, wondering eyes.
+At last he raised his hand and held the flimsy paper in the flame of the
+candle till it was all burnt away. The charred remains fluttered to the
+ground, and one wavering flake of carbonised paper sank gently upon the
+dead man's throat, laid bare by the hand of his frenzied wife.
+
+“He said that I was not a Jesuit,” murmured the priest, as he burnt the
+envelope, and across his pale face there flitted an unearthly smile.
+
+Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when
+Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the
+rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and
+then turned to leave the ship.
+
+The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed
+that the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne
+were on the box. René Drucquer and himself were invited to enter the
+roomy vehicle, and by the way in which the door shut he divined that it
+was locked by a spring.
+
+At the village post-office the carriage stopped, and, one of the
+servants having opened the door, the priest descended and passed into
+the little bureau. He said nothing about the letter addressed to Sidney
+Carew, but Christian took for granted that it would be posted. Instead
+of this, however, the priest wrote a telegram announcing the arrival of
+the _Deux Frères_, which he addressed to “Morel et Fils, Merchants,
+Quimper.”
+
+“Hoel Grall asked me to despatch this,” he said quietly, as he handed
+the paper to the old postmaster.
+
+After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus
+they travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two
+strangely contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances
+of which the links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott
+did not appear to chafe against his confinement. He took absolutely no
+notice of the two men whose duty it was to watch his every movement. The
+spirit of adventure, which is not quite educated out of us Englishmen
+yet, was very strong in him, and the rapid movement through an unknown
+land to an unknown goal was not without its healthy fascination. He lay
+back in the comfortable carriage and sleepily watched the flying
+landscape. Withal he noticed by the position of the sun the direction in
+which he was being taken, and despite many turns and twists he kept his
+bearings fairly well. The carriage had left the high road soon after
+crossing the bridge above Audierne, and was now going somewhat heavily
+over inferior thoroughfares.
+
+The sun had set before Vellacott awoke to find that they were still
+lumbering on. He had, of course, lost all bearing now, but he soon found
+that they had been journeying eastward since leaving the coast.
+
+A halt was made for refreshment at a small hillside village which
+appeared to be mainly inhabited by women, for the men were all sailors.
+The accommodation was of the poorest, but bread was procurable, and
+eggs, meat being an unknown luxury in the community.
+
+In the lowering light they journeyed on again, sometimes on the broad
+post-road, sometimes through cool and sombre forests. Many times when
+Christian spoke kindly, or performed some little act of consideration,
+the poor Abbé was on the point of disclosing his own treason. Before his
+eyes was the vision of that little cabin. He saw again the dancing flame
+of the paper in his hand, throwing its moving light upon the marble
+features of that silent witness as the charred fragments fluttered past
+the still face to the ground. But as the stone is worn by the dropping
+water, so at last is man's better nature overcome by persistent
+undermining when the work is carried out by men chosen as possessing “a
+mind self-possessed and tranquil, delicate in its perceptions, sure in
+its intuitions, and capable of a wide comprehension of various
+subjects.” What youthful nature could be strong enough to resist the
+cunning pressure of influences wielded thus? So René Drucquer carried
+the secret in his heart until circumstances rendered it unimportant.
+
+Man is, after all, only fallible, and those to whom is given the
+privilege of accepting or refusing candidates for admission to the great
+Society of Jesus had made a fatal error in taking René Drucquer. Never
+was a man more unfitted to do his duty in that station of life in which
+he was placed. His religious enthusiasm stopped short of fanaticism; his
+pliability would not bend so low as duplicity. All this the young
+journalist learnt as he penetrated further into the sensitive depths of
+his companion's gentle temperament. The priest was of those men to whom
+love and brotherly affection are as necessary as the air they breathe.
+His wavering instincts were capable of being hardened into convictions;
+his natural gifts (and they were many) could be raised into talents; his
+life, in fact, could have been made a success by one influence--the love
+of a woman--the one influence that was forbidden: the single human
+acquirement that must for ever be beyond the priest's reach. This
+Christian Vellacott felt in a vague, uncertain way. He did not know very
+much about love and its influence upon a man's character, these
+questions never having come under his journalistic field of inquiry; but
+he had lately begun to wonder whether man's life was given to him to be
+influenced by no other thoughts than those in his own brain--whether
+there is not in our existence a completing area in the development of
+character.
+
+Looking at the matter from his own personal point of view--from whence
+even the best of us look upon most things--he was of the opinion that
+love stands in the path of the majority of men. This had been his view
+of the matter for many years; probably it was the reflection of his
+father's cynically outspoken opinion, and a well-grown idea is hard to
+uproot.
+
+Brought up, as he had been, by a pleasure-seeking and somewhat cynical
+man, and passing from his care into the busy and practical journalistic
+world, it was only natural that he should have acquired a certain
+hardness of judgment which, though useful in the world, is not an
+amiable quality. He now felt the presence of a dawning charity towards
+the actions of his fellow-men. A month earlier he would have despised
+René Drucquer as a weak and incapable man; now there was in his heart
+only pity for the young priest.
+
+Soon after darkness had settled over the country the carriage descended
+into a deep and narrow valley through which ran a rapid river of no
+great breadth. Here the driver stopped, and the two travellers descended
+from the vehicle. The priest exchanged a few words in a low voice with
+one of the servants who had leapt down from the box, and then turning to
+Vellacott he said in a curt manner--
+
+“Follow me, please.”
+
+The Englishman obeyed, and leaving the road they turned along a broad
+pathway running at the side of the water. Christian noticed that they
+were going upstream. Presently they reached a cottage, and a woman came
+from the open doorway at their approach. Without any greeting or word of
+welcome she led the way down some wooden steps to the ferry-boat. As she
+rowed them across, the journalist took note of everything in his quick,
+keen way. The depth of the water, rapidity of current, and even the fact
+that the boat woman was not paid for her services.
+
+“Are we near our destination?” he asked in English when he saw this.
+
+“We have five minutes more,” replied the priest in the same language.
+
+On landing, they followed another small path for some distance,
+down-stream. It was a quiet moss-grown path, with poplar trees on either
+side, and appeared to be little used. Suddenly the young priest stopped.
+There was the trunk of an elm tree lying on the inside of the path,
+evidently cut for the purpose of making a rough seat.
+
+“Let us sit here a few minutes,” said René.
+
+Christian obeyed. He sat forward and stretched his long legs out.
+
+“I am aching all over,” he said impatiently; “I wonder what it means!”
+
+The priest ignored the remark entirely.
+
+“My friend,” he said presently, “a few minutes more and my care of you
+ceases. This journey will be over. For me it has been very eventful. In
+these few days I have learnt more than I did during all the long years
+of my education, and what I have learnt will never be forgotten. Without
+breathing one word of religion you have taught me to respect yours;
+without uttering a single complaint you have made me think with horror
+and shame of the part I have played in this affair. I dare ... scarcely
+hope that one day you will forgive me!”
+
+Christian raised his hand slowly to his forehead. The gleam of the
+sleek, smooth water flowing past his feet made him giddy. He wondered
+vaguely if the strange, dull feeling that was creeping over his senses
+was the result of extreme fatigue.
+
+“You speak as if we were never going to meet again,” he said dreamily.
+
+The priest did not answer for some moments. His slim hands were tightly
+clasped upon his knees.
+
+“It is probable,” he said at length, “that such will be the case. If our
+friendship is discovered it is certain!”
+
+“Then our friendship must not be discovered,” said the practical
+Englishman.
+
+“But, my friend, that would be deceit--duplicity!”
+
+“A little duplicity, more or less, cannot matter much,” replied
+Christian, in a harder voice.
+
+The priest looked up sharply, half fearing that his own treachery in the
+matter of the letter was suspected. But his companion remained silent,
+and the darkness prevented the expression of his face from being seen.
+
+“And,” continued the Englishman, after a long pause, “I am to be left
+here?”
+
+There was a peculiar ring of weary indifference in his tone, as if it
+mattered little where he was left. The priest noticed it and remembered
+it later.
+
+“I know nothing, my friend. I have but to obey my orders.”
+
+“And close your mind against thought?”
+
+“I cannot prevent the thoughts from coming into my mind,” replied the
+priest gently, “but I can keep them prisoners when they have entered.”
+
+He rose suddenly, and led the way along the river bank. Had Christian's
+manner been more encouraging he would have told him then and there about
+the letter.
+
+As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose
+from behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one
+of the lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to
+René Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after
+quitting the carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and
+unsuspected. He came, however, too late. Unconsciously, Christian had
+saved his companion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+GREEK AND GREEK
+
+
+When they had walked about a hundred yards farther on, the footpath was
+brought to a sudden termination by a house built across it to the
+water's edge. In this lay the explanation of its scanty use and
+luxuriant growth of moss.
+
+It was not a dark night, and without difficulty the priest found the
+handle of a bell, of which, however, no sound reached their ears. The
+door, cut deep in the stone, was opened after a short delay by a lay
+brother who showed no signs of rigid fasting. Again Christian noticed
+that no greeting was exchanged, no word of explanation offered or
+expected. The lay brother led the way along a dimly lighted corridor, in
+which there were doors upon each side at regular intervals. There was a
+chill and stony feeling in the atmosphere.
+
+At the end of the corridor a gleam of light shone through a half-open
+door upon the bare stone floor. Into this cell Christian was shown.
+Without even noticing whether the priest followed him or not, he entered
+the tiny room and threw himself wearily upon the bed. Although it was an
+intensely hot night he shivered a little, and as he lay he clasped his
+head with either hand. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and the colour
+had entirely left his cheeks, though his lips were red and moist. He
+took no notice of his surroundings, which, though simple and somewhat
+bare, were not devoid of comfort.
+
+In the meantime, René Drucquer had followed the door-keeper up a broad
+flight of stairs to a second corridor which was identical with that
+below, except that a room took the place of this small entrance-lobby
+and broad door. Thus the windows of this room were immediately above the
+river, which rendered them entirely free from overlookers, as the land
+on the opposite side was low and devoid of trees.
+
+The lay brother stopped in front of the door of this apartment, and
+allowed the young priest to pass him and knock at the door with his own
+hands. The response from within was uttered in such a low tone that if
+he had not been listening most attentively René would not have heard it.
+He opened the door, which creaked a little on its hinges, and passed
+into the room alone.
+
+In front of him a man dressed in a black soutane was seated at a table
+placed before the window. The only lamp in the room, which was long and
+narrow, stood on the table before him, so that the light of it was
+reflected from his sleek black head disfigured by a tiny tonsure. As
+René Drucquer advanced up the room, the occupant raised his head
+slightly, but made no attempt to turn round. With a quick, unobtrusive
+movement of his large white hand he moved the papers on the table before
+him, so that no written matter remained exposed to view. Upon the table
+were several books, and on the right-hand side of the plain inkstand
+stood a beautifully carved stone crucifix, while upon the left there was
+a small mirror no larger than a carte-de-visite. This was placed at a
+slight angle upon a tiny wire easel, and by raising his eyes any person
+seated at the table could at once see what was passing in the room
+behind him--the entire apartment, including the door, being reflected in
+the mirror.
+
+Though seated, the occupant of this peculiarly constructed room was
+evidently tall. His shoulders, though narrow, were very square, and in
+any other garment than a thin soutane his slightness of build would
+scarcely have been noticeable. His head was of singular and remarkable
+shape. Very narrow from temple to temple, it was quite level from the
+summit of the high forehead to the spot where the tonsure gleamed
+whitely, and the length of the skull from front to back was abnormal.
+The dullest observer could not have failed to recognise that there was
+something extraordinary in such a head, either for good or evil.
+
+The Abbé Drucquer advanced across the bare stone floor, and took his
+stand at the left side of the table, within a yard of his Provincial's
+elbow. Before taking any notice of him, the Provincial opened a thick
+book bound in dark morocco leather, of which the leaves were of white
+unruled paper, interleaved, like a diary, with blotting paper. The pages
+were numbered, although there was, apparently, no index attached to the
+volume. After a moment's thought, the tall man turned to a certain folio
+which was partially covered by a fine handwriting in short paragraphs.
+Then for the first time he looked up.
+
+“Good evening,” he said, in full melodious voice. As he raised his face
+the light of the lamp fell directly upon it. There was evidently no
+desire to conceal any passing expression by the stale old method of a
+shaded lamp. The face was worthy of the head. Clean-cut, calm, and
+dignified; it was singularly fascinating, not only by reason of its
+beauty, which was undeniable, but owing to the calm, almost superhuman
+power that lay in the gaze of the velvety eyes. There was no keenness of
+expression, no quickness of glance, and no seeking after effect by
+mobility of lash or lid. When he raised his eyes, the lower lid was
+elevated simultaneously, which peculiarity, concealing the white around
+the pupil, imparted an uncomfortable sense of inscrutability. There was
+no expression beyond a vague sense of velvety depth, such as is felt
+upon gazing for some space of time down a deep well.
+
+“Good evening,” replied René Drucquer, meeting with some hesitation the
+slow, kindly glance.
+
+The Provincial leant forward and took from the tray of the inkstand a
+quill pen. With the point of it he followed the lines written in the
+book before him.
+
+“I understand,” he said, in a modulated and business-like tone, “that
+you have been entirely successful?”
+
+“I believe so.”
+
+The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes
+once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in
+the same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the
+book, he returned to the written notes.
+
+“You left,” he continued, “on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening
+you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you
+arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part
+has been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with
+all expedition. So--” here the Provincial raised the pen from the book
+with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost
+imperceptibly, “so--you have been entirely successful?”
+
+Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in
+which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood
+motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same
+kind, even voice:
+
+“What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?”
+
+“The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a
+rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast.”
+
+“Ah! I am sorry. Had you time--were you enabled to administer to him the
+Holy Rites?”
+
+“No, my father. He was killed at one blow.”
+
+The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested
+steadily on the book in front of him.
+
+“Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!” he asked
+indifferently.
+
+“I think not,” was the reply. “I endeavoured to prevent such effect
+arising, and--and in this the Englishman helped me greatly.”
+
+Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young
+priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching
+his slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his
+black soutane.
+
+“My son,” he said smoothly. “As you know, I am a great advocate for
+frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I
+have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar
+treatment. It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory
+respecting your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with
+this Englishman. Is it not so?”
+
+René Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his
+hands one over the other.
+
+“He is not such as I expected,” he replied after a pause.
+
+“No,” said the Provincial meditatively. “They are a strange race. Some
+of them are strong--very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish;
+and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not
+so?”
+
+“Yes, I think he is very intelligent.”
+
+“Was he violent or abusive?”
+
+“No; he was calm and almost indifferent.”
+
+For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand
+in the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window
+at the end of the table.
+
+“Take a seat, my son,” he said, “I have yet many questions to ask you. I
+am afraid I forgot that you might be tired.”
+
+“Now tell me,” he continued, when René had seated himself, “do you think
+this indifference was assumed by way of disarming suspicion and for the
+purpose of effecting a speedy escape?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“Did you converse together to any extent?”
+
+“We were naturally thrown together a great deal; especially after the
+death of the 'patron.' He was of great assistance to me and to Hoel
+Grall, the second in command, by reason of his knowledge of seamanship.”
+
+“Ah! He is expert in such matters?”
+
+“Yes, my father.”
+
+A further note was here added to the partially-filled page of the
+manuscript book.
+
+“Of what subjects did he speak? Of religion, our Order, politics,
+himself and his captivity?”
+
+“Of none of those.”
+
+The Provincial leant back suddenly in his chair, and for some minutes
+complete silence reigned in the room. He was evidently thinking deeply,
+and his eyes were fixed upon the open book with inscrutable immobility.
+Once he glanced slowly towards René Drucquer, who sat with downcast eyes
+and interlocked fingers. Then he pressed back his elbows and inhaled a
+deep breath, as if weary of sitting in one position.
+
+“I have met Englishmen,” he said speculatively, “of a type similar--I
+think--to this man. They never spoke of religion, of themselves or of
+their own opinion; and yet they were not silent men. Upon most subjects
+they could converse intelligently, and upon some with brilliancy; but
+these subjects were invariably treated in a strictly general sense. Such
+men _never_ argue, and never appear to be highly interested in that
+of which they happen to be speaking.... They make excellent
+listeners....” Here the speaker stopped for a moment and passed his long
+hand downwards across his eyes as if the light were troubling his sight;
+in doing so he glanced again towards the Abbé's fingers, which were now
+quite motionless, the knuckles gleaming like ivory.
+
+“... And one never knows quite how much they remember and how much they
+forget. Perhaps it is that they hear everything ... and forget nothing.
+Is our friend of this type, my son?”
+
+“I think he is.”
+
+“It is such men as he who have made that little island what it is. They
+are difficult subjects; but they are liable to sacrifice their
+opportunities to a mistaken creed they call honour, and therefore they
+are not such dangerous enemies as they otherwise might have been.”
+
+The Provincial said these words in a lighter manner, almost amounting to
+pleasantry, and did not appear to notice that the priest moved uneasily
+in his seat.
+
+“Then,” he continued, “you have learnt nothing of importance during the
+few days you have passed with him?”
+
+“Nothing, my father.”
+
+“Did he make any attempt to communicate with his friends?”
+
+“He wrote a letter which he requested me to post.”
+
+The Provincial leant forward in his chair and took a pen in his right
+hand, while he extended his left across the table towards his companion.
+
+“I burnt it,” said René gently.
+
+“Ah! That is a pity. Why did you do that?”
+
+“I had discretion!” replied the young priest, with quiet determination.
+
+The Provincial examined the point of his pen critically, his perfectly
+formed lips slightly apart.
+
+“Yes,” he murmured reflectively. “Yes, of course, you had discretion.
+What was in the letter?”
+
+“A few words in English, telling his friends to have no anxiety, and
+asking them particularly to institute no search, as he would return home
+as soon as he desired to do so.”
+
+“Ah! He said that, did he? And the letter was addressed to--”
+
+“Mr. Carew.”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+The Provincial made another note in the manuscript book. Then he read
+the whole page over carefully and critically. His attitude was like that
+of a physician about to pronounce a diagnosis.
+
+“And,” he said reflectively, without looking up, “was there nothing
+noticeable about him in any way? Nothing characteristic of the man, I
+mean, and peculiar. How would you describe him, in fact?”
+
+“I should say,” replied René Drucquer, “that his chief characteristic is
+energy; but for some reason, during these last two days this seems to
+have slowly evaporated. His resistance on Wednesday night was very
+energetic--he dislocated my arm, and reset it later--and when the vessel
+was in danger he was full of life. Later this peculiar indifference of
+manner came over him, and hour by hour it has increased in power. It
+almost seems as if he were anxious to keep away from England just now.”
+
+The Provincial raised his long white finger to his upper lip. It was the
+action of a man who is in the habit of tugging gently at his moustache
+when in thought, and one would almost have said that the smooth-faced
+priest had at no very distant period worn that manly ornament. His
+finger passed over the shaded skin with a disagreeable, rasping sound.
+
+“That does not sound very likely,” he said slowly. “Have you any
+tangible reason, to offer in support of this theory?”
+
+“No, my father. But the idea came to me, and so I mention it. It seemed
+as if this desire came to him upon reflection, after the ship was out of
+danger, and the indifference was contemporaneous with it.”
+
+The Provincial suddenly closed the book and laid aside his pen.
+
+“Thank you, my son!” he said, in smooth, heartless tones, “I will not
+trouble you any more to-night. You will need food and rest. Good night,
+my son. You have done well!”
+
+René Drucquer rose and gravely passed down the long room. Before he
+reached the door, however, the clear voice of his superior caused him to
+pause for a moment.
+
+“As you go down to the refectory,” he said, “kindly make a request that
+Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want
+you to see him before I do!”
+
+When the door had closed behind René Drucquer the Provincial rose from
+his seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the
+table. Presently he drew aside the curtain which hid a small recess near
+the door, whore a simple bed and a small table were concealed. With a
+brush he smoothed back his sleek hair, and, dipping the ends of his
+fingers into a basin of water, he wiped them carefully. Thus he prepared
+to receive Christian Vellacott.
+
+He returned to his chair and seated himself somewhat wearily. Although
+there were but few papers on the table, he had three hours' hard work
+before him yet. He leant back, and again, that singular gesture, as if
+to stroke a moustache that was not there, was noticeable.
+
+“I have a dull presentiment,” he muttered reflectively, “that we have
+made a mistake here. We have gone about it in the wrong way, and if
+there is blame to be attached to any one, Talma is the man. That temper
+of his is fatal!”
+
+After a pause he heaved a weary sigh, and stretched his long arms out on
+either side, enjoying a free and open yawn.
+
+“Ah me!” he sighed, “what an uphill fight this has become, and day by
+day it grows harder. Day by day we lose power; one hold after another
+slips from our grasp. Perhaps it means that this vast organisation is
+effete--perhaps, after all, we are dying of inanition, and yet--yet it
+should not be, for we have the people still.... Ah! I hear footsteps.
+This is our journalistic friend, no doubt. I think he will prove
+interesting.”
+
+A moment later someone knocked softly at the door. There was a slight
+shuffling of feet, and Christian Vellacott entered the room alone. There
+was a peculiar dull expression in his eyes, as if he were suffering
+pain, mental or physical. After glancing at the mirror, the Provincial
+rose and bowed formally with his hand upon the back of his chair. As the
+Englishman came forward the Jesuit glanced at his face, and with a
+polite motion of the hand he said:
+
+“Sir, take the trouble of seating yourself,” speaking in French at once,
+with no apology, as if well aware that his companion knew that language
+as perfectly as his own.
+
+“Thank you,” replied Christian. He drew the chair slightly forward as he
+seated himself, and fixed his eyes upon the Jesuit's face. Through the
+entire interview he never removed his gaze, and he noticed that until
+the last words were spoken those soft, deep eyes were never raised to
+his.
+
+“I suppose,” said the Jesuit at length, almost humbly, “that we are
+irreconcilable enemies, Mr. Vellacott?”
+
+The manner in which this was spoken did not bear the slightest
+resemblance to the cold superiority with which René Drucquer had been
+treated.
+
+The Englishman sat with one lean hand resting on the table and watched.
+He knew that some reply was expected, but in face of that knowledge he
+chose to remain silent. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek. The
+inscrutable Provincial had met a foeman worthy of his steel at last. His
+strange magnetic influence threw itself vainly against a will as firm as
+his own, and he felt that his incidental effects, dramatic and
+conversational, fell flat. Instantly he became interested in Christian
+Vellacott.
+
+“I need hardly remind a man of your discrimination, Mr. Vellacott,” he
+continued tentatively, “that there are two sides to every question.”
+
+The Englishman smiled and moved slightly in his chair, drawing in his
+feet and leaning forward.
+
+“Implying, I presume,” he said lightly, “that in this particular
+question you are on one side and I upon the other.”
+
+“Alas! it seems so.”
+
+Vellacott leant back in his chair again and crossed his legs.
+
+“In my turn,” he said quietly, “I must remind you, monsieur, that I am a
+journalist.”
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and waited for
+his companion to continue. His silence and the momentary motion of his
+eyebrows, which in no way affected the lids, expressed admirably his
+failure to see the connection of his companion's remark.
+
+“Which means,” Christian went on to explain, “that my place is not upon
+either side of the question, but in the middle. I belong to no party,
+and I am the enemy of no man. I do not lead men's opinions. It is my
+duty to state facts as plainly and as coldly as possible in order that
+my countrymen may form their own judgment. It may appear that at one
+time I write upon one side of the question; the next week I may seem to
+write upon the other. That is one of the misfortunes of my calling.”
+
+“Then we are not necessarily enemies,” said the Jesuit softly.
+
+“No--not necessarily. On the other hand,” continued Christian, with
+daring deliberation, “it is not at all necessary that we should be
+friends.”
+
+The Jesuit smiled slightly--so slightly that it was the mere ghost of a
+smile, affecting the lines of his small mouth, but in no way relieving
+the soft darkness of his eyes.
+
+“Then we are enemies,” he said. “He whose follower I am, said that all
+who are not with Him are against Him.”
+
+The Englishman's lips closed suddenly, and a peculiar stony look came
+over his face. There was one subject upon which he had determined not to
+converse.
+
+“I am instructed,” continued the Provincial, with a sudden change of
+manner from pleasant to practical, “to ask of you a written promise
+never to write one word either for or against the Society of Jesus
+again. In exchange for that promise I am empowered to tender to you the
+sincere apologies of the Society for the inconvenience to which you may
+have been put, and to assist you in every way to return home at once.”
+
+A great silence followed this speech. A small clock suspended somewhere
+in the room ticked monotonously, otherwise there was no sound audible.
+The two men sat within a yard of each other, each thinking, of the other
+in his individual way, from his individual point of view, the Jesuit
+with downcast eyes, his companion watching his immobile features.
+
+At length Christian Vellacott's full and quiet tones broke the spell.
+
+“Of course,” he said simply, “I refuse.”
+
+The Provincial rose from his seat, pushing it back as he did so.
+
+“Then I will not detain you any longer. You are no doubt fatigued. The
+lay brother waiting outside will show you the room assigned to you, and
+at whatever time of day or night you may wish to see me, remember that I
+am at your service.”
+
+Christian rose also. He appeared to hesitate, and then to grasp the
+table with both hands to assist himself. He stood for a moment, and
+suddenly tottered forward. Had not the Provincial caught him he would
+have fallen.
+
+“My head turns,” he mumbled incoherently.
+
+“What is the matter? ... what is the matter?”
+
+The Jesuit slipped his arm round him--a slight arm, but as hard and
+strong as steel.
+
+“You are tired,” he said sympathetically, “perhaps you have a little
+touch of fever. Come, I will assist you to your room.”
+
+And the two men passed out together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+STRICKEN DOWN
+
+
+In later days Christian Vellacott could bring back to his memory no
+distinct recollection of that first night spent in the monastery. There
+was an indefinite remembrance of the steady, monotonous clang of a bell
+in the first hours, doubtless the tolling of the matins, calling the
+elect to prayer at midnight.
+
+After that he must have fallen into a deep, lethargic sleep, for he
+never heard the distant strains of the organ and the melodious chanting
+of gruff voices. The strange, unquiet melody hovered over him in the
+little cell, following him as he glided away from earth upon the blessed
+wings of sleep, and haunted his restless dreams.
+
+The monks were early astir next morning, for the sweet smell of drying
+hay filled the air, and the second crop of the fruitful earth lay
+waiting to be stacked. With tucked-up gowns and bared arms the sturdy
+devotees worked with rake and pitchfork. No whispered word passed
+between them; none raised his head to look around upon the smiling
+landscape or search in the cloudless sky for the tiny lark whose morning
+hymn rippled down to them. Each worked on in silence, tossing the
+scented hay, his mind being no doubt filled with thoughts above all
+earthly things.
+
+Near at hand lay a carefully-kept vegetable garden of large dimensions.
+Here grew in profusion all nourishing roots and herbs, but there was no
+sign of more luscious fruits. Small birds hopped and fluttered here and
+there unheeded and unmolested, calling to each other joyously, and the
+warming air was alive with the hum of tinier wings.
+
+In the midst of this walked man--the lord of all--humbly, silently, with
+bowed head and unadmiring eyes--man whose life was vouchsafed for the
+enjoyment of all these things.
+
+A little square patch of sunlight lay on the stone floor of the small
+cell allotted to Christian Vellacott. The thick oak door deadened the
+sounds of life in the monastery, such as they were, and the strong,
+laboured breathing of the young Englishman alone broke the chill
+silence.
+
+Christian lay, all dressed, on the narrow bed. His eyes were half
+closed, and the ruddy brown of his cheeks had faded into an ashy grey.
+His clenched hands lay numbly at his side. Through his open, swollen
+lips meaningless words came in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Presently the door opened with a creaking sound, but the sleeper moved
+no limb or feature. René Drucquer entered the cell and ran quickly to
+the bedside. Behind, with more dignity and deliberation, followed the
+sub-prior of the monastery. The young priest had obtained permission
+from his Provincial to see Christian Vellacott for a few moments before
+his hurried departure for India. Thus René had received his mission
+sooner than he had hoped for. The astute and far-seeing Provincial had
+from the beginning intended that René Drucquer should be removed from
+harm's way without delay once his disagreeable mission to St. Mary
+Western was performed.
+
+“My father,” exclaimed the young priest in alarm, “he is dying!”
+
+The venerable sub-prior bent his head over the bed. He was a tall, spare
+man, with very sunken cheeks, and a marvellous expression of placid
+contentment in his eyes such as one never finds in the face of a young
+monk. He was very learned in medicines, and in the administration of
+such simple herbs as were required to remedy the illnesses within the
+monastery walls. Perhaps some of his patients died when they might have
+lived under more skilled treatment, but it is a short and easy step from
+life to death within a comfortless cell, and his bony hands were as
+tender over his sick brethren as those of a woman.
+
+He felt the Englishman's pulse and watched his ashen face for some
+moments, touching the clammy forehead softly, while René Drucquer stood
+by with a great sickening weight of remorse and fear upon his heart.
+Then the sub-prior knelt stiffly down, and placed his clean-shaven lips
+near to Christian's ear.
+
+“My son,” he said, “do you hear me?”
+
+Christian breathed less heavily, as if he were listening to some far-off
+sound, but never moved a feature. Presently he began to murmur
+incoherently, and the sub-prior bent his ear to listen.
+
+“Much good would a blessing of mine do you, Hilda,” observed Christian
+into the reverend ear. The old gentleman raised his cadaverous head and
+looked somewhat puzzled. Again he listened.
+
+“Look after Aunt Judy--she cannot last long,” murmured the young
+Englishman in his native tongue, which was unknown to the monk.
+
+“It is fever,” said the sub-prior presently--“one of those terrible
+fevers which kill men as the cold kills flies!”
+
+No thought seemed to enter the monk's mind of possible infection. He
+knelt upon the cold floor with one bare and bony arm beneath the sick
+man's head, while the other lay across his breast. He was looking
+intently into the veiled eyes, inhaling the very breath of the swollen
+lips.
+
+“Will he die, my father?” asked René Drucquer in a whisper; his face was
+as pale as Vellacott's.
+
+“He is in the hands of the good God,” was the pious answer. The tall
+monk rose to his feet and stood before the bed thinking. He rubbed his
+bony hands together slowly. Through the tiny window a shaft of sunlight
+poured down upon his grizzled head, and showed up relentlessly the deep
+furrows that ran diagonally down from his cheek-bone to his chin.
+
+“You must watch here, my son,” he continued, “while I inform the
+Father-Provincial of this.”
+
+The venerable sub-prior was no Jesuit, and perhaps he would have been
+just as well pleased had the Provincial elected to live elsewhere than
+in the monastery. But the Prior--an old man of ninety, and incapable of
+work or thought--was completely in the power of the Society.
+
+When he found himself alone with the Englishman, René Drucquer sat
+wearily upon a small wooden bench, the only form of seat provided, and
+leaned his narrow face upon his hands.
+
+The prospect that he saw before him as he sat staring vacantly at the
+floor of the little cell was black enough. He saw no possible outlet,
+and he had not the courage to force his way through the barriers erected
+all round him. It must be remembered that he was a Roman Catholic, and
+over a sincere disciple of the Mother Church the power of the Jesuits is
+greater than man should ever be allowed to exercise. The slavery that
+England fought against so restlessly is nothing to it, for mental
+bondage is infinitely heavier than physical service. He had determined
+to accept the Provincial's offer of missionary work in Asia, but the
+sudden horror of realising that he was a Jesuit, and could never be
+anything else than a Jesuit for the rest of his days, was fresh upon
+him. He was too young yet to find consolation in the thought that he at
+all events could attempt to steer a clear, unsullied course through the
+shoals and quicksands that surround a priest's existence, and he was too
+old to buoy himself up with the false hope that he might, despite his
+Jesuit's oath, do some good work for his Church. His awakening had been
+rendered more terrible by the brilliancy of the dreams which it had
+interrupted.
+
+He had not looked upon Christian Vellacott as a victim hitherto, for the
+bravest receive the least sympathy, and the young Englishman's cool way
+of treating his reverse of fortune had repelled pity or commiseration.
+But now all that was changed. Whatever this sickness might prove to be,
+René Drucquer felt that the blame of it lay at his own door. If
+Christian Vellacott were to die, he, René Drucquer, was in the eyes of
+God a murderer, for he had forcibly brought him to his death. This was
+an unpleasant reflection for a young devotee whose inward soul was full
+of human kindness; and the presence of the strong man who lay gasping
+for breath upon the narrow, comfortless bed was not reassuring.
+
+It was only natural that those thoughts, coupled with the realisation of
+the aimlessness of his own existence, should have bred in the young
+Jesuit's heart a dull fire of antagonism against the man who was in
+immediate authority over him, and when the Provincial noiselessly
+entered the cell a few minutes later, he felt a sudden thrill of
+misgiving at the thought that his feelings were sacred to none--that
+this man with his deep, inscrutable eyes could read the face of his very
+soul like an open book.
+
+In this, René Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the
+presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it
+extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this
+knowledge in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him
+in every turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise
+it. Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never
+been turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of
+incurring the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the
+line of life which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the
+love of their fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it.
+
+The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of
+motion. His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his
+eyes rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension.
+He approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist.
+For a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face,
+and then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here
+again there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection.
+
+The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while René, who had
+risen from his seat, was near at hand.
+
+“This man, my father,” said the Provincial coldly, “must not die. You
+must take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is
+necessary you can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense,
+and I shall be grieved to hear of his death!”
+
+Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had
+already lasted nearly three minutes.
+
+René Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and
+the door, so that he was in a position to command attention.
+
+“My father,” he pleaded, “may I nurse him?”
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved
+his hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside.
+
+“No,” he said softly, “you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour,” and
+he passed out into the noiseless corridor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+BACK TO LIFE
+
+
+One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white
+monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and
+full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial
+promenade.
+
+It is, perhaps, needless to observe that he was alone. No one ever
+walked with the Provincial. No footstep ever crushed the gravel in
+harmony with his gliding tread. Perhaps, indeed, no one had ever walked
+with him thus, in the twilight, since a fairy, dancing form had moved in
+the shadow of his tall person, and footsteps lighter than his own had
+vainly endeavoured to keep time with his longer limbs. But that was in
+no monastery garden; and the useful, vegetable producing enclosure bore
+little resemblance to the château terrace. In those days it may be that
+there was a gleam of life in the man's deep, velvety eyes--perhaps,
+indeed, a moustache adorned the short, twisted lip where the white
+fingers rasped so frequently now.
+
+The pious monks were busy with their evening meal, and the Provincial
+was quite alone in the garden. All around him the leaves glowed ruddily
+in the warm light. Everywhere the fruits of earth were ripe and full
+with mature beauty; but the solitary walker noted none of these. He
+paced backwards and forwards with downcast eyes, turning slowly and
+indifferently as if it mattered little where he walked. The merry
+blackbirds in the hay field adjoining the garden called to each other
+continuously, and from a hidden rookery came the voice of the dusky
+settlers, which is, perhaps, the saddest sound in all nature's
+harmonies. But the Jesuit resolutely refused to listen. Once, however,
+he stopped and stood motionless for some seconds, with his head turned
+slightly to meet the distant cry; but he never raised his eyes, which
+were deep and lifeless in their gaze. It may be that there was a rookery
+near that southern château, where he once had walked in the solemn
+evening hour, or perhaps he did not hear that sound at all though his
+ear was turned towards it.
+
+It would be hard indeed to read from the priest's still features the
+thoughts that might be passing through his powerful brain; but the
+strange influence of his being was such as makes itself felt without any
+spoken word. As he walked there with his long hands clasped behind his
+back, his peculiarly shaped head bent slightly forward, and his perfect
+lips closely pressed, no one could have looked at him without feeling
+instinctively that no ordinary mind was busy beneath the tiny
+tonsure--that no ordinary soul breathed there for weal or woe, seeking
+after higher things in the right way or the wrong. The man's cultivated
+repose of manner, his evident intellectuality, and his subtle strength
+of purpose visible in every glance of his eyes, betrayed that although
+his life might be passed in the calm retreat of a monastery, his soul
+was not there. The man was never created to pass his existence in
+prayerful meditation; his mission was one of strife and contention
+amidst the strong minds of the age. One felt that he was living in this
+quiet Breton valley for a purpose; that from this peaceful spot he was
+dexterously handling wires that caused puppets--aye, puppets with golden
+crowns--to dance, and smirk, and bow in the farthest corners of the
+earth.
+
+Presently the Jesuit heard footsteps upon the gravel at the far side of
+the garden, but he did not raise his head. His interest in the trivial
+incidents of everyday life appeared to be quite dead.
+
+“Softly, softly!” said a deep, rough voice, which the Provincial
+recognised as that of the sub-prior; then he raised his eyes slightly
+and looked across the garden, without, however, altering his pace.
+
+He saw there Christian Vellacott walking by the side of the hard-faced
+old monk with long, hesitating strides, like a man who had forgotten how
+to use his legs. It was exactly six weeks since the young journalist had
+passed through that garden with René Drucquer, and those weeks had been
+to him a strange and not unpleasant dream. It seemed as if the man lying
+upon that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic
+Christian Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily
+comfortable from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a
+speculative description, as if he looked on things from afar off.
+Nothing seemed to matter much. There was an all-pervading sense of
+restful indifference as to whether it might be night or day, morning,
+noon, or evening. All responsibility in existence seemed to have left
+him: his ready pride of self-dependence had given way to a gentle
+obedience, and the passage from wakefulness to sleep was very sweet.
+
+Through all those dreamy hours he heard the soft rustle of woollen
+garments and the suppressed shuffle of sandalled feet. Whenever he
+opened his heavy eyes he discerned vaguely in the dim light a grey,
+still form seated upon the plain wooden bench at his bedside. Whenever
+he tried to change his position upon the hard bed and his weary bones
+refused their function, strong, hard hands were slipped beneath him and
+kind assistance freely given. As a rule, it was the tall sub-prior who
+ministered to the sick man, fighting the dread fever with all his simple
+knowledge; his hands smoothed oftenest the tossed pillow; but many
+clean-shaven, strong, and weary faces were bowed over the bed during
+those six weeks, for there was a competition for the post of sick-nurse.
+The monks loved to feel that they were performing some tangible good,
+and not spending their hours over make-believe tasks like a
+man-of-warsman in fine weather.
+
+One frequent visitor, however, Christian Vellacott never saw beneath his
+lazy lashes. The Provincial never entered that little cell unless he was
+positively informed that its inmate was asleep. The inscrutable Jesuit
+seemed almost to be ashamed of the anxiety that he undoubtedly felt
+respecting the sick man thus thrown upon his hands by a peculiar chain
+of incidents. He spoke coldly and sarcastically to the sub-prior
+whenever he condescended to mention the subject at all; but no day
+passed in which he failed to pay at least one visit to the little cell
+at the end of the long, silent corridor.
+
+“Softly, softly!” said the old sub-prior, holding out his bony hand to
+stay his companion's progress, “you are too ambitious, my son.”
+
+Christian laughed in a low, weak voice, and raised his head to look
+round him. The laugh ceased suddenly as he caught sight of the
+Provincial, and across the potato-bed the two strong men looked
+speculatively into each other's eyes in the peaceful twilight. The
+Jesuit's gaze fell first, and with a dignified bow he moved gently away.
+
+“I am stronger than I look, my father,” said Christian, turning to his
+companion. Then they walked slowly on, and presently rested upon a
+wooden bench built against the monastery wall.
+
+The young Englishman leaned back and watched the Provincial, who was
+pacing backwards and forwards where they had first seen him. The old
+monk sat with clasped hands, and gravely contemplated the gravel beneath
+his feet. Thus they waited together within the high, whitewashed walls,
+while the light faded from the western sky. Three types, as strangely
+contrasted as the student of human kind could wish to see: the old monk
+with his placid bloodless face and strong useless arms--a wasted
+energy, a mere monument to mistaken zeal; and the younger men so widely
+severed by social circumstances, and yet resembling each other somewhat
+in heart and soul. Each had a strong individuality--each a great and
+far-reaching vitality. Each was, in his way, a power in the world, as
+all strong minds are; for in face of what may be said (and with apparent
+justice) respecting chance and mere good fortune, good men must come to
+the top among their fellows. They must--and most assuredly they do. As
+in olden days the doughtiest knights sought each other in the
+battlefield to measure steel, so in these later times the ruling
+intellects of the day meet and clear a circle round them. The Provincial
+was a power in the Society of Jesus; perhaps he was destined one day to
+be General of it; and Christian Vellacott had suddenly appeared upon the
+field of politic strife, heralding his arrival with two most deadly
+blows dealt in masterly succession. From the first they were sure to
+come together, sooner or later; and now, when they were separated by
+nothing more formidable than a bed of potatoes, they were glancing
+askance and longing to be at each other. But it could not be. Had the
+sub-prior left the garden it would have made no difference. It was
+morally impossible that those two men could speak what they were
+thinking, for one of them was a Jesuit.
+
+The Provincial, however, made the first move, and the Englishman often
+wondered in later days what his intention might have been. He walked on
+to the northern end of the garden, where a few thick-stemmed pear trees
+were trained against the wall. The fruit was hanging in profusion, for
+it was not consumed in the monastery but given to the poor at
+harvest-time. The Provincial selected a brown, ripe pear, and broke it
+delicately from the tree without allowing his fingers to come in contact
+with the fruit itself. Then he turned and walked with the same lazy
+precision towards the two other occupants of the garden. At his approach
+the sub-prior rose from his seat and stood motionless with clasped
+hands; there was a faint suggestion of antagonism in his attitude, which
+was quite devoid of servility. Christian, however, remained seated,
+raising his keen grey eyes to the Provincial's face with a quiet
+self-assertion which the Jesuit ignored.
+
+“I am glad, Monsieur, to see you restored to health,” he said coldly to
+Christian, meeting his gaze for a moment.
+
+The Englishman bowed very slightly, and there was a peculiar
+expressiveness in the action which betrayed his foreign education, but
+the cool silence with which he waited for the Provincial to speak again
+was essentially British. The Jesuit moved and glanced slowly beneath his
+lowered eyelids towards the motionless figure of the sub-prior. He was
+too highly bred to allow himself to be betrayed into any sign of
+embarrassment, and too clever to let the Englishman see that he was
+hesitating. After a momentary pause he turned gravely to the sub-prior,
+and said:
+
+“Will you allow your patient, my brother, to taste of our fruit? it is
+ripe and wholesome.”
+
+Then, without awaiting a reply, he presented the pear to Vellacott. It
+was a strange action, and no doubt there was some deep intention in it.
+The Jesuit must have known, however, from René Drucquer's report, and
+from his own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a
+mould to allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this
+description, however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit
+in which it was conceived. Perhaps he read the Englishman's character
+totally wrong, although his experience of men must have been very great;
+or perhaps he really wished to conciliate him, and took this first step
+with the graceful delicacy of his nation, with a view to following it
+up.
+
+With a conventional word of thanks, Vellacott took the pear and set it
+down upon the bench at his side. Whatever the Jesuit's intention might
+have been, it was frustrated by his quiet action. It would have been so
+easy to have said a few words of praise regarding the fruit, and it was
+only natural to have begun eating it at once; but Vellacott read a
+deeper meaning in all this, and he chose a more difficult course. It was
+assuredly harder to keep silence then than to talk, and a weaker-minded
+man would have thanked the Provincial with effusion. The manner in which
+Vellacott laid the fruit upon the bench, his quiet and deliberate
+silence, conveyed unmistakably and intentionally that the Provincial's
+society was as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. There was nothing to be
+done but take the hint; and in the lowering twilight the solitary,
+miserable man moved reluctantly away. With contemplative hardness of
+heart the Englishman watched him go; there was no feeling of triumph in
+his soul--neither, however, was there pity. The Jesuit had chosen his
+own path, he had reached his goal, and that most terrible thirst--the
+thirst for power--was nearly slaked. If at times--at the end of a long
+day of hard mental work, when men's hearts are softened by weariness and
+lowering peace--he desired something else than power, some little touch
+of human sympathy perhaps, his was the blame if no heart responded to
+his own. Christian Vellacott sat and wondered dreamily, with the
+nonchalance of a man who has been at the very gates of death, if power
+were worth this purchase-money.
+
+The sub-prior had seated himself again, and with his strong hands meekly
+clasped he waited. He knew that something was passing which he could not
+understand: his dull instincts told him vaguely that between these two
+strong men there was war-fare, dumb, sullen, and merciless; but unused
+as he was to the ways of men, unlearned in the intricacies of human
+thoughts, he could not read more.
+
+“You have not told me yet, my father,” said Vellacott, “how long I have
+been ill.”
+
+“Six weeks, my son,” replied the taciturn monk.
+
+“And it was very bad?”
+
+“Yes, very bad.”
+
+Christian slowly rubbed his thin hands together. His fingers were moist
+and singularly white, with a bleached appearance about the knuckles. His
+face was thin, but not emaciated, his long jaw and somewhat pronounced
+chin were not more bony than of old, but the expression of his mouth was
+quite changed; his lips were no longer thrust upward with a determined
+curve, and a smile seemed nearer at hand.
+
+“I have a faint recollection of being very tenderly nursed and cared
+for; generally by you, I think. No doubt you saved my life.”
+
+The sub-prior moved a little, and drew in his feet.
+
+“The matter was not in my hands,” he said quietly.
+
+The Englishman, with some tact, allowed this remark to pass in
+acquiescent silence.
+
+“Did you ever think that ... I was not ... going back to England?” he
+asked presently, in a lighter tone, though the thought of returning
+home brought no smile to his face.
+
+The sub-prior did not reply at once. He appeared to be thinking deeply,
+for he leaned forward in an unmonastic attitude with his knees apart,
+his elbows resting upon them, and his hands clasped. He gazed across the
+prosaic potato-bed with his colourless lips slightly apart.
+
+“One night,” he began meditatively, “I went to sit with you after the
+bell for matins had been rung. From midnight till three o'clock you
+never moved. Then I gave you some cordial, and as I stooped over you the
+candle flickered a little; there were strange shadows upon your face,
+but around your lips there was a deeper shade. I had seen it once
+before, on my brother's face when he lay upon the hard Paris pavement
+with a bullet in his lungs, and his breath whistling through the orifice
+as the wind whistles round our walls in winter. I held the candle closer
+to your face, and as I did so, a hand came over my shoulder and took it
+from my fingers. The Father Provincial had come to help me. He said no
+word, but set the candle down upon the bed, and I held you up while he
+administered the cordial drop by drop, as a man oils a cartwheel.”
+
+“Ah!” said Christian slowly and suggestively, “_he_ was there!”
+
+The monk made no reply. He sat motionless, with a calm, acquired
+silence, which might have meant much or nothing.
+
+“Did he come often?” inquired the Englishman.
+
+“Very often.”
+
+“I never saw him.”
+
+This, again, was met with silence. Presently the sub-prior continued his
+narrative.
+
+“When daylight came at last,” he said, “the shadow had left your lips. I
+think that night was the worst; it was then that you were nearer ...
+nearer than at any other time.”
+
+Christian Vellacott was strong enough now to take his usual interest in
+outward things. With the writer's instinct he went through the world
+looking round him, always studying men and things, watching, listening,
+and storing up experience. The Provincial interested him greatly, but he
+did not dare to show his curiosity; he hesitated to penetrate the
+darkness that surrounded the man's life, past, present, and future. In a
+minor degree the taciturn sub-prior arrested his attention. The old monk
+was in a communicative humour, and the Englishman led him on a little
+without thinking much about the fairness of it.
+
+“Did your brother die?” he asked sympathetically.
+
+“He died,” was the reply. “Yes, my son, he died--died cursing the
+tyrant's bullet in his lungs. He threw away his life in a vain attempt
+to alter human nature, to set straight that which is crooked and cannot
+be set straight. He sought to bring about at once that which cometh not
+until the lion shall eat straw like an ox. See, my son, that you do not
+attempt the same.”
+
+“I think,” said Christian, after a pause, “that we all try a little, and
+perhaps some day a great accumulation of little efforts will take place.
+You, my father, have tried as well!”
+
+The monk slowly shook his head, without, however, any great display of
+conviction.
+
+“I was not always a monk,” he said, as if seeking to excuse a bygone
+folly.
+
+It was nearly dark now. The birds were silent, and only the whispering
+of the crisp, withering leaves broke the solemn hush of eventide. The
+two men sat side by side without speaking. They had learnt to know each
+other fairly well during the last weeks--so well that between them
+silence was entirely restful. At length Christian moved restlessly. He
+had reached that stage of convalescence where a position becomes irksome
+after a short time. It was merely a sign of returning strength.
+
+“Where is the Abbé Drucquer,” he asked abruptly.
+
+“He left us some time ago,” was the guarded reply.
+
+“He spoke of going abroad,” said Christian, deliberately ignoring the
+sub-prior's tone.
+
+“The Father Provincial told me that the Abbé had gone abroad--to
+India--to spread there the Holy Light to such as are still in darkness.”
+
+The young journalist thought that he detected again a faint suggestion
+of antagonism in the sub-prior's voice. The manner in which the
+information was imparted was almost an insult to the Provincial. It was
+a repetition of his words, given in such a manner that had the speaker
+been a man of subtle tongue it would have implied grave doubt.
+
+Christian was somewhat surprised that René Drucquer should have attained
+his object so quickly. He never suspected that he himself might have had
+much to do with it, that it had been deemed expedient to remove the
+young priest beyond the possible reach of his influence, because he was
+quite unconscious of this influence. He did not know that its power had
+affected René Drucquer, and that some reflection of it had even touched
+the self-contained Provincial--that it was even now making this old
+sub-prior talk more openly than was prudent or wise. He happened to be
+taking the question from a very different point of view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+BACK TO WORK
+
+
+Day by day Christian Vellacott recovered strength. The enforced rest,
+and perhaps also the monastic peacefulness of his surroundings,
+contributed greatly towards this. In mental matters as in physical we
+are subject to contagion, and from the placid recluses, vegetating
+unheeded in the heart of Brittany, their prisoner acquired a certain
+restfulness of mind which was eminently beneficial to his body. Life
+inside those white walls was so sleepy and withal so pleasant that it
+was physically and mentally impossible to think and worry over events
+that might be passing in the outer world.
+
+Presently, however, Christian began to feel idle, which is a good sign
+in invalids; and soon the days became long and irksome. He began to take
+an increased interest in his surroundings, and realised at once how
+little he knew of the existence going on about him. Though he frequently
+passed, in the dim corridors and cloisters, a silent, grey-clad figure,
+exchanging perhaps with him a scarcely perceptible salutation, he had
+never spoken with any other inmates of the monastery than the Provincial
+and the sub-prior.
+
+He noticed also that the watchful care of the nurse had imperceptibly
+glided into that of a warder. He was never allowed out of his cell
+unless accompanied by the sub-prior--in fact, he was a state prisoner.
+His daily walks never extended beyond the one path near the potato bed,
+or backwards and forwards at the sunny end of the garden, where the huge
+pears hung ripely. From neither point was any portion of the surrounding
+country visible, but the Provincial could not veil the sun, and
+Christian knew where lay the west and where the east.
+
+No possible opportunity for escape presented itself, but the Englishman
+was storing up strength and knowledge all the while. He knew that things
+would not go on for long like this, and felt that the Provincial would
+sooner or later summon him to the long room at the end of the corridor
+upon the upper floor.
+
+This call came to him three weeks after the day when the two men had met
+in the garden--nine weeks after the Englishman's captivity had
+commenced.
+
+“My son,” said the sub-prior one afternoon, “the Father Provincial
+wishes to speak with you to-day at three.”
+
+Christian glanced up at the great monastery clock, which declared the
+time to be a quarter to three.
+
+“I am ready,” he said quietly. There was no tremor in his voice or light
+in his eyes, and he continued walking leisurely by the side of the old
+monk; but a sudden thrill of pleasant anticipation warmed his heart.
+
+A little later they entered the monastery and mounted the stone stairs
+together. As they walked along the corridor the clock in the tower
+overhead struck three.
+
+“I will wait for you at the foot of the stairs,” said the monk slowly,
+as if with some compunction. Then he led the way to the end of the
+corridor and knocked at the door. He stood back, as if the Provincial
+were in the habit of keeping knockers waiting. Such was, at all events,
+the case now, and some minutes elapsed before a clear, low voice bade
+him enter.
+
+The monk opened the door and stood back against the wall for Christian
+to pass in. The Provincial was seated at the table near the window,
+which was open, the afternoon being sultry although the autumn was
+nearly over. At his left hand stood the small Venetian mirror which
+enabled him to see who was behind him without turning round.
+
+As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly,
+with one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the
+left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up:
+
+“Be good enough--Mr. Vellacott.”
+
+When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and
+fixed them upon the Englishman's face. The action was slightly dramatic,
+but very effective, and clearly showed that he was accustomed to find
+the eyes of others quail before his. Christian met the gaze with a
+calmness more difficult to meet than open defiance. After a moment they
+turned away simultaneously.
+
+“I need scarcely,” said the Provincial, with singular sweetness of
+manner, which, however, was quite devoid of servility, “apologise to
+you, Monsieur, for speaking in French, as it is almost your native
+language.”
+
+Christian bowed, at the same time edging somewhat nearer to the table.
+
+“There are one or two matters,” continued the Jesuit, speaking faster,
+“upon which I have been instructed to treat with you; but first I must
+congratulate you upon your restoration to health. Your illness has been
+very serious... I trust that you have had nothing to complain of... in
+the treatment which you have received at our hands.”
+
+Christian, while sitting quite motionless, was making an exhaustive
+survey of the room.
+
+“On the contrary,” he said, in a conventional tone which, in comparison
+to his companion's manner, was almost brutal, “it is probably owing to
+the care of the sub-prior that I am alive at the present moment, and--”
+
+He stopped suddenly; an almost imperceptible motion of the Jesuit's
+straight eyebrows warned him.
+
+“And...?” repeated the Provincial, interrogatively. He leant back in his
+chair with an obvious air of interest.
+
+“And I am very grateful----to him.”
+
+“The reverend father is a great doctor,” said the Jesuit lightly.
+“Excuse me,” he continued, rising and leaning across the table, “I will
+close the window; the air from the river begins to grow cool.”
+
+The journalist moved slightly, looking over his shoulder towards the
+window; at the same moment he altered, with his elbow, the position of
+the small mirror standing upon the table. Instead of reflecting the
+whole room, including the door at the end, it now reproduced the blank
+wall at the side opposed to the curtained recess where the bed was
+placed.
+
+“And now, Mr. Vellacott,” continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, “I
+must beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual
+frankness, and--and it seems to me that a certain allowance for
+respective circumstances can well be demanded.”
+
+He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became
+absorbed for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
+
+“From your pen,” he then said, in a businesslike monotone, “there has
+emanated a serious and hitherto unproved charge against the Holy Society
+of Jesus. It came at a critical moment in the political strife then
+raging in France; and, in proportion to the attention it attracted, harm
+and calumny accrued to the Society. I am told that your motives were
+purely patriotic, and your desire was nothing beyond a most laudable one
+of keeping your countrymen out of difficulties. Before I had the
+pleasure of seeing you I said, 'This is a young journalist who, at any
+expense, and even at the sacrifice of truth, wishes to make a name in
+the world and force himself into public attention.' Since then I have
+withdrawn that opinion.”
+
+During these remarks the Provincial had not raised his eyes from the
+table. He now leant back in the chair and contemplated his own clasped
+hands. Christian had listened attentively. His long, grave face was
+turned slightly towards the Provincial, and his eyes were perhaps a
+little softer in their gaze.
+
+“I endeavoured,” he said, “some weeks ago, to explain my position.”
+
+The Jesuit inclined his head. Then he raised his long white finger to
+his upper lip, stroking the blue skin pensively.
+
+Presently he raised his eyes to the Englishman's face, and in their
+velvety depths Christian thought he detected an expression which was
+almost pleading. It seemed to express a desire for help, for some slight
+assistance in the performance of a difficult task. He never again looked
+into those eyes in all his life, but the remembrance of them remained in
+his heart for many years after the surrounding incidents had passed away
+from memory and interest. He knew that the Soul looking forth from that
+pale and heartless face was of no ordinary mould or strength. In later
+years, when they were both grey-haired men whose Yea or No was of some
+weight in the world--one speaking with the great and open voice of the
+Press, the other working subtly, dumbly, secretly--their motives may
+have clashed once more, their souls may have met and touched, as it
+were, over the heads of the People, but they never looked into each
+other's eyes again.
+
+The Provincial moved uneasily.
+
+“It has been a most unfortunate business,” he said gently, and after a
+pause continued more rapidly, with his eyes upon the book. “I am
+instructed to lay before you the apologies of the Society for the
+inconvenience to which you have been put. Your own sense of justice will
+tell you that we were bound to defend ourselves in every way. You have
+done us a great injury, and, as is our custom, we have contradicted
+nothing. The Society of Jesus does not defend itself in the vain hope of
+receiving justice at the hands of men. I am now in a position to inform
+you again that you are at liberty--free to go where you will, when you
+will--and that any sum you may require is at your disposal to convey you
+home to England ... on your signing a promise never to write another
+word for private or public circulation on the subject of the Holy Order
+of Jesus, or to dictate to the writing of another.”
+
+“I must refuse,” said Christian laconically, almost before the words had
+left the Jesuit's lips. “As I explained before, I am simply a public
+servant; what I happen to know must ever be at the public disposal or I
+am useless.”
+
+A short silence followed this remark. When at length the Provincial
+spoke his tone was cold and reserved.
+
+“Of course,” he said, “I expected a refusal--at first. I am instructed
+to ask you to reconsider your refusal and to oblige me, at the end of a
+week, with the result of your meditations. If it remains a refusal,
+another week will be accorded, and so on.”
+
+“Until--?”
+
+The Jesuit closed the book upon the table in front of him and with great
+care altered its position so that it lay quite squarely. He raised his
+eyebrows slightly and glanced sideways towards the Englishman. At that
+moment the bell began summoning the devotees to their evening meal, its
+deep tone vibrating weirdly through the bare corridors.
+
+“Until you accept,” suggested he softly.
+
+Christian looked at him speculatively. The faintest suspicion of a smile
+hovered for a moment in his eyes, and then he turned and looked out of
+the window.
+
+“I hope, Monsieur,” continued the Jesuit, “that when I have the pleasure
+of seeing you--a week hence--your health will be quite re-established!”
+
+“Thank you!”
+
+“And in the meantime I shall feel honoured by your asking for anything
+you may require.”
+
+“Thank you!” answered Christian again. He was still looking over his
+shoulder, down at the brown river which ran immediately below the
+window.
+
+“Please excuse my rising to open the door for you,” said the Provincial,
+with cool audacity, “but I have a few words to write before joining our
+brethren at their evening repast.”
+
+Christian turned and looked at him vaguely. There was a peculiar gleam
+in his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. Then he rose and, as he
+passed the Jesuit, bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his grave
+salutation. He walked quickly down the length of the room, which was not
+carpeted, and opened the door, closing it again with some noise
+immediately. But he never crossed the threshold. To the man sitting at
+the table it was as if the Englishman had left the room, closing the
+door after him.
+
+Presently the Provincial glanced at the mirror, from mere habit, and
+found that it was displaced. He re-arranged it thoughtfully, so that the
+entire room was included in its field of reflection.
+
+“I wonder,” he said aloud, “when and why he did that!”
+
+Then he returned to his writing. In a few minutes, however, he rose and
+pushed back his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back he stood
+and gazed fixedly out of the window. Beneath him the brown water glided
+past with curling eddy and gleaming ripple, while its soft murmur was
+the only sound that broke the pathetic silence surrounding this lonely
+man. His small and perfectly formed face was quite expressionless; the
+curve of his thin lips meant nothing; all the suppressed vitality of his
+being lay in those deep, soft eyes over which there seemed to be a veil.
+Presently he turned, and with lithe, smooth steps passed down the long
+room and out of the door.
+
+Instantly Christian Vellacott came from his hiding-place within the
+recess. He ran to the window and opened it noiselessly. A moment later
+he was standing upon the stone sill. The afternoon sun shone full upon
+his face as he stood there, and showed a deep red flush on either cheek.
+Slowly he stooped forward, holding with one hand to the woodwork of the
+window while he examined critically the surface of the water. Suddenly
+he threw his arms forward and like a black shadow dived noiselessly,
+passing into the depth without a splash. When he rose to the surface he
+turned to look at the monastery. The Provincial's window was the only
+outlet directly on to the river.
+
+The stream was rapid, and after swimming with it for a short time he
+left the water and lay down to recover his breath under the friendly
+cover of some bushes. There he remained for some time, while the short
+October twilight closed over the land. A man just dragged from the jaws
+of death, he lay in his wet clothes where he first found shelter without
+even troubling to move his limbs from the pools of water slowly
+accumulating. Already the monastery was a thing of the past. With the
+rapid forethought of his generation he was already looking to the
+future. He knew too well the spirit of the people in France to fear
+pursuit. The monks never ventured beyond their own walls except on
+ostentatious missions of charity. The machinations of the Society of
+Jesus were less to be feared in France than in England, and he had only
+to take his story to the nearest sub-prefecture to raise a storm of
+popular opinion in his favour. But this was not his project. With him,
+as in all human plans, his own personal feelings came before the
+possible duty he owed to the public. He lay beneath the bramble
+undergrowth, and speculated as to what might have taken place subsequent
+to his disappearance. At that moment the fortunes of the _Beacon_
+gave him no food for thought. What Mr. Bodery and his subordinate might,
+or might not, think found no interest in his mind. All his speculations
+were confined to events at St. Mary Western, and the outcome of his
+meditations was that when the friendly cover of darkness lay on the land
+he rose and started to walk briskly across the well-tilled country
+towards the north.
+
+That portion of Brittany which lies along the northern coast is a
+pastoral land where sleep occupies the larger half of man's life.
+Although it was only evening, an hour when Paris and London recover, as
+it were, from the previous night's vigil and brighten up into vigour,
+the solitary Englishman passed unheeded through the squalid villages,
+unmolested along the winding roads. Mile after mile of scanty forest
+land and rich meadow were left behind, while, except for a few
+heavily-breathing cattle, he met no sign of life. At last he came upon
+a broader road which bore unmistakable signs of military workmanship in
+its construction, and here he met, and passed with laconic greeting, a
+few peasant women returning with empty baskets from some neighbouring
+market; or perhaps a “cantonnier” here and there, plodding home with
+“sabots” swinging heavily and round shoulders bent beneath the burden
+of his weighty stone-breaking implements.
+
+Following the direction of this road his course was now towards the
+north-east, with more tendency to the eastward than he desired, but
+there was no choice. About eight o'clock he passed through a small
+village, which appeared to be already wrapped in stupid slumber such as
+attends the peasant's pillow. A cock crowed loudly, and in reply a dog
+barked with some alarm, but Christian was already beyond the village
+upon the deserted high road again.
+
+He now began to feel the weakening effect of his illness; his legs
+became cramped, and he frequently rested at the roadside. The highway
+was running still more to the eastward now, and Christian was just
+beginning to consider the advisability of taking to the country again,
+when it joined a broader road cut east and west. Here he stopped short,
+and, raising his head, stood quite still for some moments.
+
+“Ah!” he muttered. “The sea. I smell the sea.”
+
+He now turned to the left, and advanced along the newly-discovered road
+towards the west. As he progressed the pungent odour of seaweed
+refreshed him and grew stronger every moment. Suddenly he became aware
+that although high land lay upon his left hand there was to his right a
+hollow darkness without shadow or depth. No merry plash of waves came to
+explain this; the smell of the sea was there, but the joyous tumble of
+its waters was not to be heard. The traveller stooped low and peered
+into the darkness. Gradually he discerned a distant line of horizon, and
+to that point there seemed to stretch a vast dead sheet of water without
+light or motion. Upon his ears there stole a soft bubbling sound, varied
+occasionally by a tiny ripple. Suddenly a flash of recollection appeared
+to pass through the watcher's mind, and he muttered an exclamation of
+surprise as he turned towards the east and endeavoured to pierce the
+gloom. He was right. Upon the distant line of horizon a jagged outline
+cut the sky. It was like the form of a huge tooth jutting out from the
+softer earth. Such is Mont St. Michel standing grandly alone in the
+midst of a shallow, sullen sea. The only firm thing among the quaking
+sands, the only stone for miles around.
+
+“The Bay of Cancale!” reflected Christian. “If I keep to the westward I
+shall reach St. Mâlo before ten o'clock!”
+
+And he set off with renewed vigour. From his feet there stretched away
+to the north a great dead level of quicksand, seething, bubbling, and
+heaving in the darkness. The sea, and yet no sea. Neither honest land
+nor rolling water.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+SIGNOR BRUNO
+
+
+Silas Lebrun, captain and part-owner of the brig _Agnes and Mary_
+of Jersey, was an early riser. Moreover, the old gentleman entertained
+peculiar views as to the homage due to Morpheus. He made no elaborate
+toilet before entering the presence of that most lovable god. Indeed he
+always slept in his boots, and the cabin-boy had on several occasions
+invited the forecastle hands to believe that he neither removed the
+ancient sealskin cap from his head nor the wooden pipe from his lips
+when slumber soothed his senses; but this statement was always set aside
+as unauthenticated.
+
+In person the ancient sailor was almost square, with short legs and a
+body worthy of promotion to something higher. His face was wrinkled and
+brown, like the exterior of that incomprehensible fruit the medlar,
+which is never ripe till it is bad, and then it is to be avoided. A
+yellow-grey beard clustered closely round a short chin, and when
+perchance the sealskin cap was absent yellow-grey hair of a similar hue
+completed the circle, standing up as high from his brow as fell the
+beard downward from his chin. A pair of intensely blue eyes, liquid
+always with the milk of human kindness, rendered the hirsute medlar a
+pleasant thing to look at.
+
+The _Agnes and Mary_ was ready for sea, her cargo of potatoes, with
+a little light weight in the way of French beans and eggs, comfortably
+stowed, and as Captain Lebrun emerged from what he was pleased to call
+his “state-room” with the first breath of a clear morning he performed
+his matinal toilet with a certain sense of satisfaction. This
+operation was simple, consisting merely in the passage of four very
+brown fingers through the yellow-grey hair, and a hurried dispersal of
+the tobacco ash secreted in his beard.
+
+The first object that met the mariner's astonished gaze was the long
+black form of a man stretched comfortably upon the cabin locker. The
+green mud adhering to the sleeper's thin shoes showed that he had
+climbed on board at low tide when the harbour was dry.
+
+Captain Lebrun gazed meditatively at the intruder for some moments. Then
+he produced a powerfully-scented pipe of venerable appearance, which had
+been, at various stages of its existence, bound in a seaman-like manner
+with pieces of tarred yarn. He slowly filled this object, and proceeded
+to inform it in a husky voice that he was “blowed.” The pipe was,
+apparently, in a similar condition, as it refused absolutely to answer
+to the powerful suction applied to it.
+
+He then seated himself with some difficulty upon the corner of the low
+table, and examined the sleeper critically.
+
+“Poor devil,” he again said, addressing himself to his pipe. “He's one
+of them priest fellows.--Hi, mister!” he observed, raising his voice.
+
+Christian Vellacott woke up at once, and took in the situation without
+delay. He was not of those who must go through terrible contortions
+before regaining their senses after sleep.
+
+“Good morning, Captain!” he observed pleasantly.
+
+“Oh--yourn't a parlee voo, then!”
+
+“No, I'm an Englishman.”
+
+“Indeed. Then you'll excuse me, but what in the name of glory are you
+doing here?”
+
+Christian sat up and looked at his muddy shoes with some interest.
+
+“Well, the truth is that I am bolting. I want to get across to England.
+I saw where you hailed from by your rig, and clambered on board last
+night. It seemed to me that when an Englishman is in a hole he cannot do
+better than go to a fellow-countryman for help.”
+
+Captain Lebrun made a mighty effort to force a passage through his pipe,
+and was rewarded by a very high-pitched squeak.
+
+“Ay!” he said doubtfully. “But what sort of hole is it? Nothing dirty,
+I'm hopin'. Who are yer? Why are ye runnin' away, and who are ye runnin'
+from?”
+
+Though a trifle blunt the sailor's manner was not unfriendly, and
+Christian laughed before replying.
+
+“Well,” he said, “to tell you the whole story would take a long time.
+You remember perhaps there was a row, about two months ago, respecting
+some English rifles found in Paris?”
+
+“Of course I remember that; we had a lot o' trouble with the Customs
+just then. The thing was ferreted out by a young newspaper fellow!”
+
+Christian rubbed his hands slowly together. He was terribly anxious to
+hear the sequel.
+
+“I am that newspaper fellow,” he said, with a quick smile.
+
+Captain Lebrun slowly stood up. He contemplated his pipe thoughtfully,
+then laying it upon the table he turned solemnly towards Christian, and
+held out a broad brown hand which was covered with scales in lieu of
+skin.
+
+“Shake hands, mister?” he said.
+
+Christian obliged him.
+
+“And now,” he said quickly, “I want to know what has happened
+since--since I left England. Has there been a great row? Has ... has
+anybody wondered where I was?”
+
+The old sailor may have had his suspicions. He may have guessed that
+Christian Vellacott had not left England at the dictates of his own free
+will, for he looked at him very kindly with his liquid blue eyes, and
+replied slowly:--
+
+“I couldn't say that _nobody_ hasn't been wonderin' where ye was,
+but--but there's been nothing in the papers!”
+
+“That is all right! And now will you give me a passage, Captain?”
+
+“Course I will! We sail about eleven this morning. I'm loaded and
+cleared out. But I should like you to have a change o' clothes. Can't
+bear to see ye in them black things. It makes me feel as if I was
+talkin' to a priest.”
+
+“I should like nothing better,” replied Christian, as he rose and
+contemplated his own person reflectively.
+
+“Come into my state-room then. I've got a few things of my own, and a
+bit of a slop-chest: jerseys and things as I sell to the men.”
+
+The Captain's wardrobe was of a marine character and somewhat rough in
+texture. He had, however, a coat and waistcoat of thick blue pilot-cloth
+which fitted Christian remarkably well, but the continuations thereof
+were so absurdly out of keeping with the young fellow's long limbs as to
+precipitate the skipper on to the verge of apoplexy. When he recovered,
+and his pipe was re-lighted, he left the cabin and went forward to
+borrow a pair of the required articles from Tom Slake, an ordinary
+seaman of tall and slim proportions. In a short time Christian Vellacott
+bore the outward semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar,
+except that his cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was
+promptly commented upon by the blunt old sailor.
+
+Secrecy was absolutely necessary, so Tom, of the long legs, was the only
+person to whom Christian's presence was made known; and he it was who
+(in view of a possible berth as steward later on) was entrusted with the
+simple culinary duties of the vessel.
+
+Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity. A long shiny
+loaf of yesterday's bread, some butter in a saucer--which vessel was
+deemed entirely superfluous in connection with cups--brown sugar in an
+old mustard-tin, with portions of yellow paper adhering to it, and solid
+slices of bacon brought from the galley in their native frying-pan. Such
+slight drawbacks, however, as there might have been in the matter of
+table-ware disappeared before the sense of kindly hospitality with which
+Captain Lebrun poured the tea into a cracked cup and a borrowed
+pannikin, dropping in the sugar with careful judgment from his brown
+fingers. Such defects as there might have lurked in the culinary art as
+carried on in the galley vanished before the friendly solicitude with
+which Tom tilted the frying-pan to pour into Christian's plate a bright
+flow of bacon-fat cunningly mingled with cinders.
+
+When the meal had been duly despatched Captain Lebrun produced his pipe
+and proceeded to fill it, after having extracted from its inward parts
+the usual high-toned squeak.
+
+Christian leant back against the bulkhead with his hands buried deeply
+in Tom's borrowed pockets. He felt much more at home in pilot cloth than
+in cashmere.
+
+“There is one more thing I should like to borrow,” he said.
+
+“Ay?” repeated the captain interrogatively, as he searched in his
+waistcoat-pocket for a match.
+
+“Ay, what is it?”
+
+“A pipe. I have not had a smoke for two months.”
+
+The Captain struck a light upon his leg.
+
+“I've got one somewhere,” he replied reassuringly; “carried it for many
+years now, just in case this one fell overboard or got broke.”
+
+Tom, who happened to be present, smiled audibly behind a hand which was
+hardly a recommendation for the coveted berth of steward, but Christian
+looked at the battered pipe with sympathetic gravity.
+
+At ten o'clock the _Agnes and Mary_ warped out of harbour and
+dropped lazily down the Rance, setting sail as she went. Christian had
+spent most of the morning in the little cabin smoking Captain Lebrun's
+reserve pipe, and seeking to establish order among the accounts of the
+ship. The accounts were the _bête noire_ of the old sailor's
+existence. Upon his own confession he “wasn't no arithmetician,” and
+Christian found, upon inspecting his accounts, no cause to contradict
+this ambiguous statement.
+
+When the _Agnes and Mary_ was clear of the harbour he went on deck,
+where activity and maritime language reigned supreme. The channel was
+narrow and the wind light, consequently the little brig drifted more or
+less at her own sweet will. This would have been well enough had the
+waterway been clear of other vessels, but the Jersey steamer was coming
+in, with her yellow funnel gleaming in the sunlight, her mail-flag
+fluttering at her foremast, and her captain swearing on the bridge, with
+the whistle-pull in his hand.
+
+Seeing that the _Agnes and Mary_ had no steerage way, the captain
+stopped his engines for a few minutes, and then went ahead again at
+half-speed. This brought the vessels close together, and, as is the
+invariable custom in such circumstances, the two crews stared stonily at
+each other. On the deck were one or two passengers enjoying the morning
+air after a cramped and uncomfortable night. Among these was an old man
+with a singularly benign expression; he was standing near the
+after-wheel, gazing with senile placidity towards St. Mâlo. As the
+vessels neared each other, however, he walked towards the rail, and
+stood there with a pleasant smile upon his face, as if ready to exchange
+a greeting with any kindred soul upon the _Agnes and Mary_.
+
+Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old
+man and watched him with some interest--not, however, altering his
+position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in
+due course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme
+stern of his ship.
+
+Then the young journalist removed Captain Lebrun's spare pipe from his
+lips, and leaning sideways over the water, called out:
+
+“Good morning, Signor Bruno!”
+
+The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman
+was peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared
+at the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden
+access of fury.
+
+“Ah!” he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from
+beneath his smooth white brows. “Ah! it is you!”
+
+Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the
+little strip of water.
+
+Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his
+coat. He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught
+in the lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his
+face. A dull red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed
+ruddily, as if shot with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with
+his breast against the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the
+two ships passed away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the
+clean deck, grasping a pistol in his right hand.
+
+Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and
+smiling reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers
+crowd round him, but the _Agnes and Mary_ had now caught the breeze
+and was moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the
+water in little golden bars.
+
+“Apperlexy!” said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found
+Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer.
+“Apperlexy!”
+
+“Do you think so?” asked Christian.
+
+“I do,” was the reply, given with some conviction. “I seen a man fall
+just like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a
+moment of excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once.
+Apperlexy they said it was.”
+
+“It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?” said Christian
+absently.
+
+“Ay, it did,” said the captain. “Ye seemed to know him!”
+
+Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. “I have met
+him twice,” he said quietly. “He was in England for some years, I
+believe; a political refugee, he called himself.”
+
+By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive
+attention to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well
+or ill, according to their fancy. He knew that Christian Vellacott
+wished to tell him no more, and he was content that it should be so, but
+he had noticed a circumstance which, from the young journalist's
+position, was probably invisible. He turned to give an order to the man
+at the wheel, and then walked slowly and with some difficulty (for
+Captain Lebrun suffered, in a quiet way, agonies from rheumatism) back
+towards his passenger.
+
+“Seemed to me,” he said reflectively, as he looked upwards to see if the
+foretopsail was shivering, “as if he had something in his hand when a'
+fell.”
+
+Christian followed the Captain's gaze. The sails were now filling well,
+and there was an exhilarating sound of straining cordage in the air
+while the vessel glided on. The young journalist was not an
+impressionable man, but he felt all these things.  The sense of open
+freedom, the gentle rise and fall of the vessel, the whirring breeze,
+and the distant line of high land up the Rance towards Dinant--all
+these were surely worth hearing, feeling, and seeing; assuredly, they
+added to the joy of living.
+
+“Something in his hand,” he repeated gravely; “what was it?”
+
+Captain Lebrun turned sideways towards the steersman, and made a little
+gesture with his left hand. A wrinkle had appeared in one corner of the
+foretopsail. Then he looked round the horizon with a sailor's
+far-seeing gaze, before replying.
+
+“Seemed to me,” he mumbled, without taking his pipe from his lips,
+“that it was a revolver.”
+
+Then the two men smoked in silence for some time. The little vessel
+moved steadily out towards the blue water, passing a lighthouse built
+upon a solitary rock, and later a lightship, with its clean red hull
+gleaming in the sunlight as it rose and fell lazily. So close were they
+to the latter that the man watching on deck waved his hand in
+salutation.
+
+Still Vellacott had vouchsafed no reply to Captain Lebrun's strange
+statement. He sat on the low rail, swinging one leg monotonously, while
+the square little sailor stood at his side with that patient maritime
+reflectiveness which is being slowly killed by the quicker ways of
+steam.
+
+“My calling brings me into contact with a rum lot of people,” said the
+young fellow at last, “and I suppose all of us make enemies without
+knowing it.”
+
+With this vague elucidation the little skipper was forced to content
+himself. He gave a grunt of acquiescence, and walked forward to
+superintend the catheading of the anchor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+
+
+One would almost have said that the good citizen Jacquetot was restless
+and disturbed. It was not that the little tobacco shop left aught to be
+desired in the way of order, neither had the tobacconist quitted his
+seat at the window-end of the counter. But he was not smoking, and at
+short intervals he drew aside the little red curtain and looked out into
+the quiet Rue St. Gingolphe with a certain eagerness.
+
+The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually
+waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of
+September in a year which it is not expedient to name, he seemed to be
+looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by
+surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast
+forehead at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a
+snuff-taker have recourse to that solace more frequently when he is
+agitated than when a warm calm reigns within his breast.
+
+“So quiet--so quiet,” he muttered, “in our little street--and in the
+others--who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters lowered
+there.”
+
+He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter of an
+occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
+
+Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal of the _Petit
+Journal_. Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply
+and drew aside the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The
+footsteps were hurried and yet hesitating--the gait of a person not
+knowing his whereabouts. And yet the man who entered the shop a moment
+later was evidently the same who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when
+last we met him.
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed the tobacconist. “It is you!”
+
+“No,” replied the other. “It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot--I
+think you call it.”
+
+“But, yes!” exclaimed the fat man in amazement. “You are that citizen,
+and you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne.”
+
+The new-comer was looking round him curiously; he stepped towards the
+curtained door, and turned the handle.
+
+“I am,” he said, “his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is
+this the room? Yes!”
+
+“Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance.”
+
+The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
+
+“Go,” said the other, “and get a mattress. Bring it and lay it on this
+table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit.”
+
+Jacquetot rose laboriously from his seat. He knew now that this was not
+the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke
+with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be
+obeyed. He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People.
+The Vicomte d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different
+people--this man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders
+without heeding the reception of them.
+
+The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small
+door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving
+the new-comer alone.
+
+A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man
+passed through the little curtained doorway into the room at the back of
+the shop, closing the door after him.
+
+The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite
+still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door
+when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it
+behind him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
+
+Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood
+looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in
+height and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird
+and unpleasant in their action--in their silence.
+
+“Ah!” said the last comer. “It is thou. I almost fired!”
+
+And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
+
+“Why have you done this?” continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. “I thought
+we agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us
+both without meeting, if we exercised a little care.”
+
+“She is dead,” replied the brother. “She died two years ago--the wife of
+Prangius--what does it matter now?”
+
+“I know that--but why did you come?”
+
+“I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade,
+and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?”
+
+The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast;
+the light of the gas flickered, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did
+so.
+
+“In my chest,” he replied. “I am simply dripping with blood. It has
+trickled down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first--and then very
+cold.”
+
+The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety eyes there
+passed that strange contraction which has been noted in the glance of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+“I have sent for a mattress,” he said. “That bullet must come out. A
+doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant.”
+
+“One of your Jesuits?”
+
+“Yes--one of my Jesuits.”
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced. He staggered a little, and
+clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
+
+“Why do you not sit down?” he suggested coldly. “There are none of
+your--_People_--here to be impressed.”
+
+Again the Vicomte smiled.
+
+“Yes,” he said smoothly, “we work on different lines, do we not? I
+wonder which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two--the
+two fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third--a
+dolt. Thus are they made--these women!”
+
+“And yet,” said the Jesuit, “you have not forgotten.”
+
+The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids were heavy,
+requiring an effort to lift them.
+
+“I do not like to hear the rooks call--that is all,” he said.
+
+The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed
+to overcome Christian Vellacott's quiet defiance--
+
+“Nor I,” he said. “It makes one remember.”
+
+There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke--sharply and
+suddenly.
+
+“Sit down, you fool!” he said. “You are fainting.”
+
+The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the
+tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
+
+The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure gleaming whitely
+amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table.
+Then the two men, the Provincial and the tobacconist of the Rue St.
+Gingolphe, lifted the wounded aristocrat gently and placed him upon the
+improvised bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no
+sound of agony, but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's
+blouse in which he was disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the
+doctor arrived. He was quite a young man, with shifting grey eyes, and
+he saluted the Provincial with a nervous obsequity which was unpleasant
+to look upon. The deftness with which he completed the task of laying
+bare the wound was notable. His fingers were too clever to be quite
+honest. When, however, he was face to face with the little blue-rimmed
+orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's muscular chest, the expression of
+his face--indeed his whole manner--changed. His eyes lost their
+shiftiness--he seemed to forget the presence of the great man standing
+at the other side of the table.
+
+While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte
+d'Audierne opened his eyes.
+
+“Ah!” said the doctor, noting this at once. “You got this on the
+Boulevard?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“How did you get here?” He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
+
+“Cab.”
+
+“All the way?”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+“Who carried you into this room?” asked the doctor, returning to his
+case of instruments.
+
+“No one! I walked.” The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently
+aggravated his patient.
+
+“Why did you do that?”
+
+He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the
+Vicomte.
+
+“In order to avoid attracting attention.”
+
+This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was
+instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again
+the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that
+of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He
+said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar restraint to his
+preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the
+persistent gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his
+face.
+
+“Will Monsieur take chloroform,” he asked, unfolding a clean
+pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
+
+“No!”
+
+“But--I beg of you------”
+
+“It is not necessary,” persisted the Vicomte calmly.
+
+The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little
+movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible
+elevation of the eyebrows.
+
+The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered
+bottle.
+
+Then the doctor muttered:
+
+“As you will!”
+
+He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress--the gas was turned up
+as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a
+moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning
+towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
+
+Quick as thought, he suddenly darted forward and pressed the clean
+handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte
+d'Audierne gave a little smothered exclamation of rage, and raised his
+arms; but the Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the
+mattress.
+
+After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay
+unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn back in anger, so
+that the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
+
+“It is possible,” said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, “that
+Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room.”
+
+Like a cat over its prey, the young doctor leant across the mattress.
+Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the
+order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless
+movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous--neat, rapid,
+and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed beneath
+the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on his
+shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red stripes
+there.
+
+After the lapse of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he
+held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
+
+“That is the bullet, my father,” he said, without ceasing his
+occupation, and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
+
+“Will he live?” asked the Jesuit casually, while he examined the bullet.
+
+“If he tries, my father,” was the meaning reply.
+
+The young doctor was bandaging now, skilfully and rapidly.
+
+“This would be the death of a dog,” said the Provincial, as if musing
+aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had
+withdrawn some time before.
+
+“Better than the life of a dog,” replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly
+mocking way, without opening his eyes.
+
+It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the
+entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they
+would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are
+like a strong spirit--light and yet potent--that floats upon the top of
+all other liquids and will mingle with none.
+
+It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without
+quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly
+observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never
+was the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical, so sceptical, as in the presence
+of his brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so
+Jesuitical, as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
+
+Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far
+apart now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte
+d'Audierne had hurried away from the deserted shore of the Côte du Nord,
+leaving his brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit in his neck.
+That slit had healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in
+both their hearts.
+
+True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he
+said that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the
+world who could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to
+test his authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose
+of seeing his brother--senior by an hour. There were many things of
+which he wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a
+more recent date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott--one of the
+few men who had succeeded in outwitting him--of Signor Bruno, or Max
+Talma, who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a
+sudden, voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at
+the sight of his face.
+
+But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is
+full of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that
+wonderful _inner_ history of France which is the most romantic
+story of human kind. And so Raoul d'Audierne--the man whose power in the
+world is like that of the fires burning within the crust of the earth,
+unseen, immeasurable--and so he took his hat, and left the little room
+behind the tobacconist's shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe--beaten,
+frustrated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+“Money,” Captain Lebrun was saying emphatically, as the _Agnes and
+Mary_ drifted slowly past Gravesend pier on the rising tide. “Hang
+money! Now, I should think that you make as much of it in a month as I
+do in a year. You're a young man, and as far as I know ye, ye're a
+successful one. Life spreads out before you like a clean chart. I'm an
+old 'un--my time is nearly up. I've lived what landsmen call a hard
+life, and now I'm slowly goin' home. Ay, Mr. Vellacott, goin' home! And
+you think that with all your manifold advantages you're a happier man
+than me. Not a bit of it! And why? 'Cause you belong to a generation
+that looks so far ahead that it's afraid of bein' happy, just for fear
+there's sorrow a comin'. Money, and lookin' ahead, that's what spoils
+yer lives nowadays.”
+
+The skipper emphasised these weighty observations by expectorating
+decisively into the water, and walked away, leaving Christian Vellacott
+with a vaguely amused smile upon his face. It is just possible that
+Silas Lebrun, master and owner of the _Agnes and Mary_, was nearer
+the mark than he thought.
+
+An hour later, Vellacott was walking along the deserted embankment above
+Westminster, on the Chelsea side of the river. It was nine o'clock, for
+which fact Big Ben solemnly gave his word, far up in the fog. The
+morning was very dark, and the street lamps were still alight, while
+every window sent forth a gleam suggestive of early autumnal fires.
+
+Turning up his own street he increased his pace, realising suddenly that
+he had not been within his own doors for more than four months. Much
+might have happened in that time--to change his life, perhaps. As he
+approached the house he saw a strange servant, an elderly woman, on her
+knees at the steps, and somehow the sight conveyed to his mind the
+thought that there was something waiting for him within that peaceful
+little house. He almost ran those last few yards, and sprang up the
+steps past the astonished woman without a word of explanation.
+
+The gas in the narrow entrance-hall was lighted, and as he threw aside
+his cap he perceived a warm gleam of firelight through the half-open
+door of the dining-room. He crossed the carpeted hall, and pushed open
+that door.
+
+Near the little breakfast-table, just under the gas, stood Hilda Carew.
+In _his_ room, standing among _his_ multifarious possessions,
+in the act of pouring from _his_ coffee-pot. She was dressed in
+black--he noticed that. Instead of being arranged high upon her head,
+her marvellous hair hung in one massive plait down her back. She looked
+like a tall and beautiful school-girl. He had not seen her hair like
+that since the old days when he had been as one of the Carews.
+
+As he pushed open the door, she looked up; and for a moment they stood
+thus. She set down the coffee-pot, carefully and symmetrically, in the
+centre of the china stand provided for its reception--and the colour
+slowly left her face.
+
+“You have come back at last!” she said quite monotonously. It sounded
+like a remark made for the purpose of filling up an awkward silence.
+
+Then he entered the room, and mechanically closed the door behind him.
+She noticed the action, but did not move. He passed round the table,
+behind Aunt Judy's chair, and they shook hands conventionally.
+
+“Yes,” he said almost breathlessly; “I am back; you do not seem elated
+by the fact.”
+
+Suddenly she smiled--the smile that suggested, in some subtle way, a
+kitten.
+
+“Of course--I am glad ... to see you.”
+
+In a peculiar dreamy way she began to add milk to the coffee. It seemed
+as if this were mere play-acting, and not real life at all.
+
+“How is it that you are here?” he asked, with a broken, disjointed
+laugh. “You cannot imagine how strange an effect it was ... for me ...
+to come in and see you ... here--of all people.”
+
+She looked at him gravely, and moved a step towards him.
+
+“Aunt Judy is dead!” she explained; “and Aunt Hester is very ill. Mother
+is upstairs with them--_her_--now. I have just come from the room,
+where I have been since midnight.”
+
+She stopped, raised her hand to her hair as if recollecting something,
+and stood looking sideways out of the window.
+
+“There is something about you this morning,” he said, with a
+concentrated deliberation, “that brings back the old Prague days. I
+suppose it is that I have not seen your hair as you have it
+to-day--since then.”
+
+She turned quite away from his hungry gaze, looking out of the window.
+
+After a pause she broke the silence--with infinite tact--not speaking
+too hurriedly.
+
+“It has been a terrible week,” she said. “Mother heard from Mr. Bodery
+that they were very ill; so we came. I never dreamt that it was so bad
+when you spoke of them. Five years it has been going on?”
+
+“Yes; five years. Thank you for coming, but I am sorry you should have
+seen it.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Every one should keep guard over his own skeleton.”
+
+She was looking at him now.
+
+“You look very ill,” she said curtly. “Where have you been?”
+
+“I was kidnapped,” he said, with a short laugh, “and then I got typhoid.
+The monks nursed me.”
+
+“You were in a monastery?”
+
+“Yes; in Brittany.”
+
+She was idly arranging the cups and saucers with her left hand, which
+she seemed desirous of bringing under his notice; but he could look at
+nothing but her face.
+
+“Then,” she said, “it would have been impossible to find you?”
+
+“Quite,” he replied, and after a pause he added, in a singularly easy
+manner, “Tell me what happened after I disappeared.”
+
+She did not seem to like the task.
+
+“Well--we searched--oh! Christian, it was horrid!”
+
+“I wondered,” he said, in a deep, soft voice, “whether you would find it
+so.”
+
+“Yes, of course, we _all_ did.”
+
+This did not appear to satisfy him.
+
+“But you,” he persisted, “you, yourself--what did you think?”
+
+“I do not know,” she answered, with painful hesitation. “I don't think I
+thought at all.”
+
+“Then what did you do, Hilda?”
+
+“I--oh, we searched. We telegraphed for Mr. Bodery, who came down at
+once. Then Fred rode over, and placed himself at Mr. Bodery's disposal.
+First he went to Paris, then to Brest. He did everything that could be
+done, but of course it was of no avail. By Mr. Bodery's advice
+everything was kept secret. There was nothing in the newspapers.”
+
+She stopped suddenly, and there was a silence in the room. He was
+looking at her curiously, still ignoring that little left hand. Only one
+word of her speech seemed to have attached itself to his understanding.
+
+“Fred?” he said. “Fred Farrar?”
+
+“Yes--my husband!”
+
+He turned away--walked towards the door, and then returned to the
+hearthrug, where he stood quite still.
+
+“I suppose it was a quiet wedding,” he said in a hard voice, “on my
+account; eh?”
+
+“Yes,” she whispered. He waited, but she added nothing.
+
+Then suddenly he laughed.
+
+“I have made a most extraordinary mistake!” he said, and again laughed.
+
+“Oh, don't” she exclaimed.
+
+“Don't what?”
+
+“Laugh.”
+
+He came nearer to her--quite near, until his sleeve almost touched her
+bowed head.
+
+“I thought--at St. Mary Western--that you loved _me_.”
+
+She seemed to shrink away from him.
+
+“What made me think so, Hilda?”
+
+She raised her head, and her eyes flashed one momentary appeal for
+mercy--like the eyes of a whipped dog.
+
+“Tell me,” he said sternly.
+
+“It was,” she whispered, “because _I_ thought so myself.”
+
+“And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?”
+
+“Yes; he was so kind, so _brave_, Christian--because he knew of my
+mistake.”
+
+Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the
+window.
+
+“Well,” he said, after a pause, “so long as you do not suffer by it--”
+
+“Oh--h,” she gasped, as if he were whipping her. She did not quite know
+what he meant. She does not know now.
+
+At last he spoke again, slowly, deliberately, and without emotion.
+
+“Some day,” he said, “when you are older, when you have more experience
+of the world, you will probably fall into the habit of thanking God, in
+your prayers, that I am what I am. It is not because I am good ...
+perhaps it is because I am ambitious--my father, you may remember, was
+considered heartless; it may be _that_. But if I were different--if
+I were passionate instead of being what the world calls cold and
+calculating--you would be ... your life would be--” he stopped, and
+turning away he sat down wearily in Aunt Judy's armchair. “You will
+know some day!” he said.
+
+It is probable that she does know now. She knows, in all likelihood,
+that her husband would have been powerless to save her from Christian
+Vellacott--from herself--from that Love wherein there are no roses but
+only thorns.
+
+And in the room above them Aunt Hester was dying. So wags the world.
+There is no attention paid to the laws of dramatic effect upon the stage
+of life. The scenes are produced without sequence, without apparent
+rhyme or reason; and Chance, the scene-shifter, is very careless, for
+comedies are enacted amid scenic effects calculated to show off to
+perfection the deepest tragedy, while tragedies are spoilt by their
+surroundings.
+
+The doctor and Mrs. Carew stood at the bedside, and listened to the old
+woman's broken murmurings. Into her mind there had perhaps strayed a
+gleam of that Light which is not on the earth, for she was not abusing
+her great-nephew.
+
+“Ah, Christian,” she was murmuring, “I wish you would come. I want to
+thank you for your kindness, more especially to Aunt Judy. She is old,
+and we must make allowances. I know she is aggravating. It happened long
+ago, when your father was a little boy--but it altered her whole life. I
+think women are like that. There is something that only comes to them
+once. I am feeling far from well, nephew Vellacott. I think I should
+like to see a doctor. What does Aunt Judy think? Is she asleep?”
+
+She turned her head to where she expected to find her sister, and in the
+act of turning her eyes closed. She slumbered peacefully. The two
+sisters had slept together for seventy years--seventy long, monotonous
+years, in which there had been no incident, no great joy, no deep
+sorrow--years lost. Except for the natural growth and slow decay of
+their frames, they had remained stationary, while around them children
+had grown into men and women and had passed away.
+
+Presently Aunt Hester opened her eyes, and they rested on the vacant
+pillow at her side. After a pause she slowly turned her head, and fixed
+her gaze upon the doctor's face. He thought that the power of speech had
+left her, but suddenly she spoke, quite clearly.
+
+“Where is my sister Judith?” she asked.
+
+There are times when the truth must be spoken, though it kill.
+
+“Your sister died yesterday,” replied the doctor.
+
+Aunt Hester lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. Her shrivelled
+fingers were picking at the counter-pane. Then a gleam of intelligence
+passed across her face.
+
+“And now,” she said, “I shall have a bed to myself. I have waited long
+enough.”
+
+Aunt Hester was very human, although the shadow of an angel's wing lay
+across her bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was many years later that Christian Vellacott found himself in the
+presence of the Angel of Death again. A telegram from Havre was one day
+handed to him in the room at the back of the tall house in the Strand,
+and the result was that he crossed from Southampton to Havre that same
+night.
+
+As the sun rose over the sea the next morning, its earliest rays glanced
+gaily through the open port-hole of a cabin in a large ocean steamer,
+still panting from her struggle through tepid Eastern seas.
+
+In this little cabin lay the Jesuit missionary, René Drucquer, watching
+the moving reflections of the water, which played ceaselessly on the
+painted ceiling overhead. He had been sent home from India by a
+kind-hearted army surgeon; a doomed man, stricken by a climatic disease
+in which there was neither hope nor hurry. When the steamer arrived in
+the Seine it was found expedient to let the young missionary die where
+he lay. The local agent of the Society of Jesus was a kind-hearted man,
+and therefore a faithless servant. He acceded to René Drucquer's prayer
+to telegraph for Christian Vellacott.
+
+And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered
+the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed.
+
+“Ah, you have come,” said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of
+pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he
+spoke.
+
+“But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder? And hard--yes, hard as
+steel.”
+
+“Oh no,” replied Vellacott. “It may be that the hardness that was once
+there shows now upon my face--that is all.”
+
+The Frenchman looked lovingly at him, with eyes like the eyes of a
+woman.
+
+“And now you are a great man, they tell me.”
+
+Vellacott shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“In my way,” he admitted. “And you?”
+
+“I--I have taught.”
+
+“Ah! and has it been a success?”
+
+“In teaching I have learnt.”
+
+Vellacott merely nodded his head.
+
+“Do you know why I sent for you?” continued the missionary.
+
+“No.”
+
+“I sent for you in order to tell you that I burnt that letter at
+Audierne.”
+
+“I came to that conclusion, for it never arrived.”
+
+“I want you to forgive me.”
+
+Vellacott laughed.
+
+“I never thought of it again,” he replied heartily.
+
+The priest was looking keenly at him.
+
+“I did not say 'thou,' but '_you_,'” he persisted gently.
+
+Vellacott's glance wavered; he raised his head, and looked out of the
+open port-hole across the glassy waters of the river.
+
+“What do you mean?” he inquired.
+
+“I thought,” said René Drucquer, “there might be some one else--some
+woman--who was waiting for news.”
+
+After a little pause the journalist replied.
+
+“My dear Abbé,” he said, “there is no woman in the whole world who wants
+news of me. And the result is, as you kindly say, I am a great man
+now--in my way.”
+
+But he knew that he might have been a greater.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
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+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Slave Of The Lamp
+
+Author: Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9195]
+This file was first posted on September 14, 2003
+Last Updated: May 5, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, V�ronique Durand, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP
+
+By Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, "Young Mistley," in
+1888, when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his
+critique on the book, spoke of its "powerful situations" and
+unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater
+length on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right
+faults, and added that, if "Young Mistley" was not in itself a good
+novel, its author was one who might hereafter certainly write good
+novels.
+
+"Young Mistley" was followed in quick succession by "The Phantom
+Future," "Suspense," and "Prisoners and Captives." Some years later,
+considering them crude and immature works, the author, at some
+difficulty and with no little pecuniary loss, withdrew all these four
+first books from circulation in England. Their republication in America
+he was powerless to prevent. He therefore revised and abbreviated them,
+"conscious," as he said himself in a preface, "of a hundred defects
+which the most careful revision cannot eliminate." He was perhaps then,
+as he was ever, too severe a critic of his own works. But though these
+four early books have, added to youthful failings, the youthful merits
+of freshness, vigour and imagination, their author was undoubtedly right
+to suppress them. By writing them he learnt, it is true, the technique
+of his art: but no author wishes--or no author should wish--to give his
+copy-books to the world. It is as well then--it is certainly as he
+himself desired--that these four books do not form part of the present
+edition. It may, however, be noted that both "Young Mistley" and
+"Prisoners and Captives" dealt, as did "The Sowers" hereafter, with
+Russian subjects: "Suspense" is the story of a war-correspondent in the
+Russo-Turkish War of 1877: and "The Phantom Future" is the only novel of
+Merriman's in which the scene is laid entirely in his own country.
+
+In 1892 he produced "The Slave of the Lamp," which had run serially
+through the _Cornhill Magazine_, then under the editorship of Mr.
+James Payn.
+
+To Mr. Payn, Merriman always felt that he owed a debt of gratitude for
+much shrewd and kindly advice and encouragement. But one item of that
+advice he neglected with, as Mr. Payn always generously owned, great
+advantage. Mr. Payn believed that the insular nature of the ordinary
+Briton made it, as a general rule, highly undesirable that the scene of
+any novel should be laid outside the British Isles.
+
+After 1892 all Merriman's books, with the single exception of "Flotsam,"
+which appeared serially in _Longman's Magazine_, and was, at first,
+produced in book form by Messrs. Longman, were published by the firm of
+Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co.
+
+His long and serene connection with the great and honourable house which
+had produced the works of such masters of literature as Thackeray,
+Charlotte Bronte, and Robert Browning, was always a source of sincere
+pleasure to him. He often expressed the opinion that, from the moment
+when, as an inexperienced and perfectly unknown author, he sent "Young
+Mistley" to Messrs. Bentley, until the time when, as a very successful
+one, he was publishing his later novels with Messrs. Smith, Elder, he
+had invariably received from his publishers an entirely just and upright
+treatment.
+
+Also in 1892 he produced "From One Generation to Another": and, two
+years later, the first of his really successful novels, "With Edged
+Tools." It is the only one of his books of which he never visited the
+_mise-en-sc�ne_--West Africa: but he had so completely imbued
+himself with the scenery and the spirit of the country that few, if any,
+of his critics detected that he did not write of it from personal
+experience. Many of his readers were firmly convinced of the reality of
+the precious plant, Simiacine, on whose discovery the action of the plot
+turns. More than one correspondent wrote to express a wish to take
+shares in the Simiacine Company!
+
+"With Edged Tools" was closely followed by "The Grey Lady." Some
+practical experience of a seafaring life, a strong love of it, and a
+great fellow-feeling for all those whose business is in great waters,
+helped the reality of the characters of the sailor brothers and of the
+sea-scenes generally. The author was for some years, and at the time
+"The Grey Lady" was written, an underwriter at Lloyd's, so that on the
+subject of ship insurance--a subject on which it will be remembered
+part of the plot hinges--he was _en pays de connaissance_. For the
+purpose of this story, he travelled in the Balearic Islands, having,
+earlier, made the first of many visits to Spain.
+
+One of the strongest characteristics in his nature, as it is certainly
+one of the strongest characteristics in his books, was his sympathy
+with, and, in consequence, his understanding of, the mind of the
+foreigner. For him, indeed, there were no alien countries. He learnt the
+character of the stranger as quickly as he learnt his language. His
+greatest delight was to merge himself completely in the life and
+interests of the country he was visiting--to stay at the mean
+_venta_, or the _auberge_ where the tourist was never seen--to
+sit in the local caf�s of an evening and listen to local politics and
+gossip; to read for the time nothing but the native newspapers, and no
+literature but the literature, past and present, of the land where he
+was sojourning; to follow the native customs, and to see Spain, Poland
+or Russia with the eyes and from the point of view of the Spaniard, the
+Pole or the Russian.
+
+The difficulties--sometimes there were even serious difficulties--of
+visiting places where there was neither provision nor protection made
+for the stranger, always acted upon him not as deterrent but incentive:
+he liked something to overcome, and found the safe, comfortable,
+convenient resting-places as uncongenial to his nature as they were
+unproductive for the purposes of his work.
+
+In 1896 "The Sowers" was published. Merriman's travels in Russia had
+taken place some years before--before, in fact, the publication of
+"Young Mistley"--but time had not at all weakened the strong and sombre
+impression which that great country and its unhappy people had left upon
+him. The most popular of all his books with his English public, Merriman
+himself did not consider it his best. It early received the compliment
+of being banned by the Russian censor: very recently, a Russian woman
+told the present writers that "The Sowers" is still the first book the
+travelling Russian buys in the Tauchnitz edition, as soon as he is out
+of his own country--"we like to hear the truth about ourselves."
+
+In the same year as "The Sowers," Merriman produced "Flotsam." It is
+not, strictly speaking, a romance: some of its main incidents were taken
+from the life of a young officer of the 44th Regiment in Early Victorian
+days. The character of Harry Wylam is, as a whole, faithful to its
+prototype; and the last scene in the book, recording Harry's death in
+the Orange Free State, as he was being taken in a waggon to the
+missionary station by the Bishop of the State, is literally accurate.
+Merriman had visited India as a boy; so here, too, the scenery is from
+the brush of an eye-witness.
+
+His next novel, "In Kedar's Tents," was his first Spanish novel--pure
+and simple: the action of "The Grey Lady" taking place chiefly in
+Majorca.
+
+All the country mentioned in "In Kedar's Tents" Merriman visited
+personally--riding, as did Frederick Conyngham and Concepcion Vara, from
+Algeciras to Ronda, then a difficult ride through a wild, beautiful and
+not too safe district, the accommodation at Algeciras and Ronda being at
+that time of an entirely primitive description. Spain had for Merriman
+ever a peculiar attraction: the character of the Spanish
+gentleman--proud, courteous, dignified--particularly appealed to him.
+
+The next country in which he sought inspiration was Holland. "Roden's
+Corner," published in 1898, broke new ground: its plot, it will be
+remembered, turns on a commercial enterprise. The title and the main
+idea of the story were taken from Merriman's earliest literary venture,
+the beginning of a novel--there were only a few chapters of it--which
+he had written before "Young Mistley," and which he had discarded,
+dissatisfied.
+
+The novel "Dross" was produced in America in 1899, having appeared
+serially in this country in a well-known newspaper. Written during a
+period of ill-health, Merriman thought it beneath his best work, and,
+true to that principle which ruled his life as an author, to give to the
+public so far as he could of that best, and of that best only, he
+declined (of course to his own monetary disadvantage) to permit its
+publication in England in book form.
+
+Its _mise-en-sc�ne_ is France and Suffolk; its period the Second
+Empire--the period of "The Last Hope." Napoleon III., a character by
+whom Merriman was always peculiarly attracted, shadows it: in it appears
+John Turner, the English banker of Paris, of "The Last Hope"; an
+admirable and amusing sketch of a young Frenchman; and an excellent
+description of the magnificent scenery about Saint Martin Lantosque, in
+the Maritime Alps.
+
+For the benefit of "The Isle of Unrest," his next book, Merriman had
+travelled through Corsica--not the Corsica of fashionable hotels and
+health-resorts, but the wild and unknown parts of that lawless and
+magnificent island. For "The Velvet Glove" he visited Pampeluna,
+Saragossa, and Lerida. The country of "The Vultures"--Warsaw and its
+neighbourhood--he saw in company with his friend, Mr. Stanley Weyman.
+The pleasure of another trip, the one he took in western
+France--Angoul�me, Cognac, and the country of the Charente--for the
+scenery of "The Last Hope," was also doubled by Mr. Weyman's presence.
+In Dantzig--the Dantzig of "Barlasch of the Guard"--Merriman made a stay
+in a bitter mid-winter, visiting also Vilna and K�nigsberg; part of the
+route of the Great Retreat from Moscow he traced himself. He was
+inclined to consider--and if an author is not quite the worst judge of
+his own work he is generally quite the best--that in "Barlasch" he
+reached his high-water mark. The short stories, comprised in the volume
+entitled "Tomaso's Fortune," were published after his death. In every
+case, the _locale_ they describe was known to Merriman personally.
+At the Monastery of Montserrat--whence the monk in "A Small World" saw
+the accident to the diligencia--the author had made a stay of some days.
+The Farlingford of "The Last Hope" is Orford in Suffolk: the French
+scenes, as has been said, Merriman had visited with Mr. Weyman, whose
+"Abbess of Vlaye" they also suggested. The curious may still find the
+original of the H�tel Gemosac in Paris--not far from the Palais d'Orsay
+H�tel--"between the Rue de Lille and the Boulevard St. Germain."
+
+"The Last Hope" was not, in a sense, Merriman's last novel. He left at
+his death about a dozen completed chapters, and the whole plot carefully
+mapped out, of yet another Spanish book, which dealt with the Spain of
+the Peninsular War of 1808-14. These chapters, which were destroyed by
+the author's desire, were of excellent promise, and written with great
+vigour and spirit. His last trip was taken, in connection with this
+book, to the country of Sir Arthur Wellesley's exploits. The plot of the
+story was concerned with a case of mistaken identity; the sketch of a
+Guerilla leader, Pedro--bearing some affinity to the Concepcion Vara of
+"In Kedar's Tents"--was especially happy.
+
+It has been seen that Merriman was not the class of author who "sits in
+Fleet Street and writes news from the front." He strongly believed in
+the value of personal impressions, and scarcely less in the value of
+first impressions. In his own case, the correctness of his first
+impressions--what he himself called laughingly his _"coup
+d'oeil"_--is in a measure proved by a note-book, now lying before the
+writers, in which he recorded his views of Bastia and the Corsicans
+after a very brief acquaintance--that view requiring scarcely any
+modification when first impressions had been exchanged for real
+knowledge and experience.
+
+As to his methods of writing, in the case of all his novels, except the
+four early suppressed ones, he invariably followed the plan of drawing
+out the whole plot and a complete synopsis of every chapter before he
+began to write the book at all.
+
+Partly as a result of this plan perhaps, but more as a result of great
+natural facility in writing, his manuscripts were often without a single
+erasure for many pages; and a typewriter was really a superfluity.
+
+It is certainly true to say that no author ever had more pleasure in his
+art than Merriman. The fever and the worry which accompany many literary
+productions he never knew.
+
+Among the professional critics he had neither personal friends nor
+personal foes; and accepted their criticisms--hostile or
+favourable--with perfect serenity and open-mindedness. He was, perhaps,
+if anything, only too ready to alter his work in accordance with their
+advice: he always said that he owed them much; and admired their
+perspicuity in detecting a promise in his earliest books, which he
+denied finding there himself. His invincible modesty made him ready to
+accept not only professional criticism but--a harder thing--the advice
+of critics on the hearth. It was out of compliance with such a domestic
+criticism that the _d�nouement_ in "The Sowers" was re-written as
+it now stands, the scene of the attack on the Castle being at first
+wholly different.
+
+The jealousy and bitterness which are supposed to be inseparable from
+the literary life certainly never affected Merriman's. He had no trace
+of such feelings in his nature. Of one who is known to the public
+exclusively through his writings, it may seem strange--but it is not the
+less true--to say that his natural bent was not to the life of a
+literary man, but to a life of action, and that it was fate, rather than
+inclination, which made him express himself in words instead of deeds. A
+writer's books are generally his best biography: the "strong, quiet
+man," whose forte was to do much and say nothing; who, like Marcos
+Sarrion, loved the free and plain life of the field and the open, was a
+natural hero for Merriman, "as finding there unconsciously some image of
+himself."
+
+To any other biography he was strongly opposed. His dislike of the
+advertisement and the self-advertisement of the interview and the
+personal paragraph deepened with time. He held strongly and
+consistently, as he held all his opinions, that a writer should be known
+to the public by his books, and by his books only. One of his last
+expressed wishes was that there should be no record of his private life.
+
+It is respect for that wish which here stays the present writers' pen.
+
+E.F.S.
+
+S.G.T.
+
+_July_ 1909.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+CHAPTERS
+
+     I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+    II. TOOLS
+   III. WITHOUT REST
+    IV. BURDENED
+     V. A REUNION
+    VI. BROKEN THREADS
+   VII. PUPPETS
+  VIII. FALSE METAL
+    IX. A CLUE
+     X. ON THE SCENT
+    XI. BURY BLUFF
+   XII. A WARNING WORD
+  XIII. A NIGHT WATCH
+   XIV. FOILED
+    XV. ROOKS
+   XVI. FOES
+  XVII. A RETREAT
+ XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST
+   XIX. FOUL PLAY
+    XX. WINGED
+   XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+  XXII. GREEK AND GREEK
+ XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN
+  XXIV. BACK TO LIFE
+   XXV. BACK TO WORK
+  XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO
+ XXVII. IN THE RUE ST GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+
+
+It was, not so many years ago, called the Rue de l'Empire, but
+republics are proverbially sensitive. Once they are established they
+become morbidly desirous of obliterating a past wherein no republic
+flourished. The street is therefore dedicated to St. Gingolphe to-day.
+To-morrow? Who can tell?
+
+It is presumably safe to take it for granted that you are located in the
+neighbourhood of the Louvre, on the north side of the river which is so
+unimportant a factor to Paris. For all good Englishmen have been, or
+hope in the near future to be, located near this spot. All good
+Americans, we are told, relegate the sojourn to a more distant future.
+
+The bridge to cross is that of the Holy Fathers. So called to-day. Once
+upon a time--but no matter. Bridges are peculiarly liable to change in
+troubled times. The Rue St. Gingolphe is situated between the Boulevard
+St. Germain and Quai Voltaire. One hears with equal facility the
+low-toned boom of the steamers' whistle upon the river, and the crack of
+whips in the boulevard. Once across the bridge, turn to the right, and
+go along the Quay, between the lime-trees and the bookstalls. You will
+probably go slowly because of the bookstalls. No one worth talking to
+could help doing so. Then turn to the left, and after a few paces you
+will find upon your right hand the Rue St. Gingolphe. It is noted in the
+Directory "Botot" that this street is one hundred and forty-five m�tres
+long; and who would care to contradict "Botot," or even to throw the
+faintest shadow of a doubt upon his statement? He has probably measured.
+
+If your fair and economical spouse should think of repairing to the
+Bon-March� to secure some of those wonderful linen pillow-cases (at one
+franc forty) with your august initial embroidered on the centre with a
+view of impressing the sleeper's cheek, she will pass the end of the Rue
+St. Gingolphe on her way--provided the cabman be honest. There! You
+cannot help finding it now.
+
+The street itself is a typical Parisian street of one hundred and
+forty-five m�tres. There is room for a baker's, a caf�, a bootmaker's,
+and a tobacconist who sells very few stamps. The Parisians do not write
+many letters. They say they have not time. But the tobacconist makes up
+for the meanness of his contribution to the inland revenue of one
+department by a generous aid to the other. He sells a vast number of
+cigarettes and cigars of the very worst quality. And it is upon the
+worst quality that the Government makes the largest profit. It is in
+every sense of the word a weed which grows as lustily as any of its
+compeers in and around Oran, Algiers, and Bonah.
+
+The Rue St. Gingolphe is within a stone's-throw of the �cole des
+Beaux-Arts, and in the very centre of a remarkably cheap and yet
+respectable quarter. Thus there are many young men occupying apartments
+in close proximity--and young men do not mind much what they smoke,
+especially provincial young men living in Paris. They feel it incumbent
+upon them to be constantly smoking something--just to show that they are
+Parisians, true sons of the pavement, knowing how to live. And their
+brightest hopes are in all truth realised, because theirs is certainly a
+reckless life, flavoured as it is with "number one" tobacco, and those
+"little corporal" cigarettes which are enveloped in the blue paper.
+
+The tobacconist's shop is singularly convenient. It has, namely, an
+entrance at the back, as well as that giving on to the street of St.
+Gingolphe. This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the
+stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perin�re, a lady who
+paints the magic word "Modes" beneath her name on the door-post of
+number seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her
+bonnets to the farthest corner of Paris.
+
+The tobacconist is a large man, much given to perspiration. In fact, one
+may safely make the statement that he perspires annually from the middle
+of April to the second or even third week in October. In consequence of
+this habit he wears no collar, and a man without a collar does not start
+fairly on the social race. It is always best to make inquiries before
+condemning a man who wears no collar. There is probably a very good
+reason, as in the case of Mr. Jacquetot, but it is to be feared that few
+pause to seek it. One need not seek the reason with much assiduity in
+this instance, because the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe is
+always prepared to explain it at length. French people are thus. They
+talk of things, and take pleasure in so doing, which we, on this side of
+the Channel, treat with a larger discretion.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot does not even wear a collar on Sunday, for the simple
+reason that Sunday is to him as other days. He attends no place of
+worship, because he acknowledges but one god--the god of most
+Frenchmen--his inner man. His pleasures are gastronomical, his sorrows
+stomachic. The little shop is open early and late, Sundays, week-days,
+and holidays. Moreover, the tobacconist--Mr. Jacquetot himself--is
+always at his post, on the high chair behind the counter, near the
+window, where he can see into the street. This constant attention to
+business is almost phenomenal, because Frenchmen who worship the god of
+Mr. Jacquetot love to pay tribute on f�te-days at one of the little
+restaurants on the Place at Versailles, at Duval's, or even in the
+Palais Royal. Mr. Jacquetot would have loved nothing better than a
+pilgrimage to any one of these shrines, but he was tied to the little
+tobacco store. Not by the chains of commerce. Oh, no! When rallied by
+his neighbours for such an unenterprising love of his own hearth, he
+merely shrugged his heavy shoulders.
+
+"What will you?" he would say; "one has one's affairs."
+
+Now the affairs of Mr. Jacquetot were, in the days with which we have to
+do, like many things on this earth, inasmuch as they were not what they
+seemed.
+
+It would be inexpedient, for reasons closely connected with the
+tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, as well as with other gentlemen
+still happily with us in the flesh, to be too exact as to dates. Suffice
+it, therefore, to say that it was only a few years ago that Mr.
+Jacquetot sat one evening as usual in his little shop. It happened to be
+a Tuesday evening, which is fortunate, because it was on Tuesdays and
+Saturdays that the little barber from round the corner called and shaved
+the vast cheeks of the tobacconist. Mr. Jacquetot was therefore quite
+presentable--doubly so, indeed, because it was yet March, and he had not
+yet entered upon his summer season.
+
+The little street was very quiet. There was no through traffic, and
+folks living in this quarter of Paris usually carry their own parcels.
+It was thus quite easy to note the approach of any passenger, when such
+had once turned the corner. Some one was approaching now, and Mr.
+Jacquetot threw away the stump of a cheap cigar. One would almost have
+said that he recognised the step at a considerable distance. Young
+people are in the habit of considering that when one gets old and stout
+one loses in intelligence; but this is not always the case. One is apt
+to expect little from a fat man; but that is often a mistake. Mr.
+Jacquetot weighed seventeen stone, but he was eminently intelligent. He
+had recognised the footstep while it was yet seventy m�tres away.
+
+In a few moments a gentleman of middle height paused in front of the
+shop, noted that it was a tobacconist's, and entered, carrying an
+unstamped letter with some ostentation. It must, by the way, be
+remembered that in France postage-stamps are to be bought at all
+tobacconists'.
+
+The new-comer's actions were characterised by a certain carelessness, as
+if he were going through a formula--perfunctorily--without admitting its
+necessity.
+
+He nodded to Mr. Jacquetot, and rather a pleasant smile flickered for a
+moment across his face. He was a singularly well-made man, of medium
+height, with straight, square shoulders and small limbs. He wore
+spectacles, and as he looked at one straight in the face there was a
+singular contraction of the eyes which hardly amounted to a
+cast--moreover, it was momentary. It was precisely the look of a hawk
+when its hood is suddenly removed in full daylight. This resemblance was
+furthered by the fact that the man's profile was birdlike. He was
+clean-shaven, and there was in his sleek head and determined little face
+that smooth, compact self-complacency which is to be noted in the head
+of a hawk.
+
+The face was small, like that of a Greek bust, but in expression it
+suggested a yet older people. There was that mystic depth of expression
+which comes from ancient Egypt. No one feature was obtrusive--all were
+chiselled with equal delicacy; and yet there was only one point of real
+beauty in the entire countenance. The mouth was perfect. But the man
+with a perfect mouth is usually one whom it will be found expedient to
+avoid. Without a certain allowance of sensuality no man is
+genial--without a little weakness there is no kind heart. This
+Frenchman's mouth was not, however, obtrusively faultless. It was
+perfect in its design, but, somehow, many people failed to take note of
+the fact. It is so with the "many," one finds. The human world is so
+blind that at times it would be almost excusable to harbour the
+suspicion that animals see more. There may be something in that instinct
+by which dogs, horses, and cats distinguish between friends and foes,
+detect sympathy, discover antipathy. It is possible that they see things
+in the human face to which our eyes are blinded--intentionally and
+mercifully blinded. If some of us were a little more observant, a few of
+the human combinations which we bring about might perhaps be less
+egregiously mistaken.
+
+It was probably the form of the lips that lent pleasantness to the smile
+with which Mr. Jacquetot was greeted, rather than the expression of the
+velvety eyes, which had in reality no power of smiling at all. They were
+sad eyes, like those of the women one sees on the banks of the Upper
+Nile, which never alter in expression--eyes that do not seem to be busy
+with this life at all, but fully occupied with something else: something
+beyond to-morrow or behind yesterday.
+
+"Not yet arrived?" inquired the new-comer in a voice of some
+distinction. It was a full, rich voice, and the French it spoke was not
+the French of Mr. Jacquetot, nor, indeed, of the Rue St. Gingolphe. It
+was the language one sometimes hears in an old _ch�teau_ lost in
+the depths of the country--the vast unexplored rural districts of
+France--where the bearers of dangerously historical names live out their
+lives with a singular suppression and patience. They are either biding
+their time or else they are content with the past and the part played by
+their ancestors therein. For there is an old French and a new. In Paris
+the new is spoken--the very newest. Were it anything but French it would
+be intolerably vulgar; as it is, it is merely neat and intensely
+expressive.
+
+"Not yet arrived, sir," said the tobacconist, and then he seemed to
+recollect himself, for he repeated:
+
+"Not yet arrived," without the respectful addition which had slipped out
+by accident.
+
+The new arrival took out his watch--a small one of beautiful
+workmanship, the watch of a lady--and consulted it. His movements were
+compact and rapid. He would have made a splendid light-weight boxer.
+
+"That," he said shortly, "is the way they fail. They do not understand
+the necessity of exactitude. The people--see you, Mr. Jacquetot, they
+fail because they have no exactitude."
+
+"But I am of the people," moving ponderously on his chair.
+
+"Essentially so. I know it, my friend. But I have taught you something."
+
+The tobacconist laughed.
+
+"I suppose so. But is it safe to stand there in the full day? Will you
+not pass in? The room is ready; the lamp is lighted. There is an agent
+of the police always at the end of the street now."
+
+"Ah, bah!" and he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. "I am not
+afraid of them. There is only one thing to be feared, Citizen
+Jacquetot--the press. The press and the people, _bien entendu_."
+
+"If you despise the people why do you use them?" asked Jacquetot
+abruptly.
+
+"In default of better, my friend. If one has not steam one uses the
+river to turn the mill-wheel. The river is slow; sometimes it is too
+weak, sometimes too strong. One never has full control over it, but it
+turns the wheel--it turns the wheel, brother Jacquetot."
+
+"And eventually sweeps away the miller," suggested the tobacconist
+lightly. It must be remembered that though stout he was intelligent. Had
+he not been so it is probable that this conversation would never have
+taken place. The dark-eyed man did not look like one who would have the
+patience to deal with stupid people.
+
+Again the pleasant smile flickered like the light of a fire in a dark
+place.
+
+"That," was the reply, "is the affair of the miller."
+
+"But," conceded Jacquetot, meditatively selecting a new cigar from a box
+which he had reached without moving from his chair, "but the
+people--they are fools, hein!"
+
+"Ah!" with a protesting shrug, as if deprecating the enunciation of such
+a platitude.
+
+Then he passed through into a little room behind the shop--a little room
+where no daylight penetrated, because there was no window to it. It
+depended for daylight upon the shop, with which it communicated by a
+door of which the upper half was glass. But this glass was thickly
+curtained with the material called Turkey-red, threefold.
+
+And the tobacconist was left alone in his shop, smoking gravely. There
+are some people like oysters, inasmuch as they leave an after-taste
+behind them. The man who had just gone into the little room at the rear
+of the tobacconist's shop of the Rue St. Gingolphe in Paris was one of
+these. And the taste he left behind him was rather disquieting. One was
+apt to feel that there was a mistake somewhere in the ordering of human
+affairs, and that this man was one of its victims.
+
+In a few minutes two men passed hastily through the shop into the little
+room, with scarcely so much as a nod for Mr. Jacquetot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+TOOLS
+
+
+The first man to enter the room was clad in a blouse of coarse grey
+cloth which reached down to his knees. On his head he wore a black silk
+cap, very much pressed down and exceedingly greasy on the right side.
+This was to be accounted for by the fact that he used his right shoulder
+more than the left in that state of life in which he had been placed. It
+was not what we, who do not kill, would consider a pleasant state. He
+was, in fact, a slayer of beasts--a foreman at the slaughter-house.
+
+It is, perhaps, fortunate that Antoine Lerac is of no great prominence
+in this record, and of none in his official capacity at the
+slaughter-house. But the man is worthy of some small attention, because
+he was so essentially of the nineteenth century--so distinctly a product
+of the latter end of what is, for us at least, the most important cycle
+of years the world has passed through. He was a man wearing the blouse
+with ostentation, and glorying in the greasy cap: professing his
+unwillingness to exchange the one for an ermine robe or the other for a
+crown. As a matter of fact, he invariably purchased the largest and
+roughest blouse to be found, and his cap was unnecessarily soaked with
+suet. He was a knight of industry of the very worst description--a
+braggart, a talker, a windbag. He preached, or rather he shrieked, the
+doctrine of equality, but the equality he sought was that which would
+place him on a par with his superiors, while in no way benefiting those
+beneath him.
+
+At one time, when he had first come into contact with the dark-eyed man
+who now sat at the table watching him curiously, there had been a
+struggle for mastery.
+
+"I am," he had said with considerable heat, "as good as you. That is all
+I wish to demonstrate."
+
+"No," replied the other with that calm and assured air of superiority
+which the people once tried in vain to stamp out with the guillotine.
+"No, it is not. You want to demonstrate that you are superior, and you
+cannot do it. You say that you have as much right to walk on the
+pavement as I. I admit it. In your heart you want to prove that you have
+_more_, and you cannot do it. I could wear your blouse with
+comfort, but you could not put on my hat or my gloves without making
+yourself ridiculous. But--that is not the question. Let us get to
+business."
+
+And in time the butcher succumbed, as he was bound to do, to the man
+whom he shrewdly suspected of being an aristocrat.
+
+He who entered the room immediately afterwards was of a very different
+type. His mode of entry was of another description. Whereas the man of
+blood swaggered in with an air of nervous truculence, as if he were
+afraid that some one was desirous of disputing his equality, the next
+comer crept in softly, and closed the door with accuracy. He was the
+incarnation of benevolence--in the best sense of the word, a sweet old
+man--looking out upon the world through large tinted spectacles with a
+beam which could not be otherwise than blind to all motes. In earlier
+years his face might, perhaps, have been a trifle hard in its contour;
+but Time, the lubricator, had eased some of the corners, and it was now
+the seat of kindness and love. He bowed ceremoniously to the first
+comer, and his manner seemed rather to breathe of fraternity than
+equality. As he bowed he mentioned the gentleman's name in such loving
+tones that no greeting could have been heartier.
+
+"Citizen Morot," he said.
+
+The butcher, with more haste than dignity, assumed the chair which stood
+at the opposite end of the table to that occupied by the Citizen Morot.
+He had evidently hurried in first in order to secure that seat. From his
+pocket he produced a somewhat soiled paper, which he threw with
+exaggerated carelessness across the table. His manner was not entirely
+free from a suggestion of patronage.
+
+"What have we here?" inquired the first comer, who had not hitherto
+opened his lips, with a deep interest which might possibly have been
+ironical. He was just the sort of man to indulge in irony for his own
+satisfaction. He unfolded the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "a receipt for five hundred rifles with bayonets and
+shoulder-straps complete. 'Received of the Citizen Morot five hundred
+rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.--Antoine Lerac.'"
+
+He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.
+
+"Thank you," he said gravely.
+
+Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of
+the little iron stove behind him.
+
+"I judged it best to be strictly business-like," said the butcher, with
+moderately well-simulated carelessness.
+
+"But yes, Monsieur Lerac," with a shrug. "We of the Republic distrust
+each other so completely."
+
+The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.
+
+"The brave Lerac," he said, "is a man of business."
+
+Citizen Morot ignored this observation.
+
+"And," he said, turning to Lerac, "you have them stored in a safe place?
+There is absolutely no doubt of that?"
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"Good."
+
+"They are under my own eye."
+
+"Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One
+cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we
+bought, the ammunition we must steal."
+
+"They are good rifles--they are English," said the butcher.
+
+"Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready
+to place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as
+themselves."
+
+The old gentleman laughed--a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably
+encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
+
+"At last Friday's meeting," Lerac said shortly, "we enrolled forty new
+members. We now number four hundred and two in our _arrondissement_
+alone."
+
+"Good," muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
+
+"And four hundred hardy companions they are."
+
+"So I should imagine" (very gravely).
+
+"Four hundred strong men," broke in the old gentleman rather hastily.
+"Ah, but that is already a power."
+
+"It is," opined Lerac sententiously, "the strong man who is the power.
+Riches are nothing; birth is nothing. This is the day of force. Force is
+everything."
+
+"Everything," acquiesced Morot fervently. He was consulting a small
+note-book, wherein he jotted down some figures.
+
+"Four hundred and two," he muttered as he wrote, "up to Friday night, in
+the _arrondissement_ of the citizen--the good citizen--Antoine
+Lerac."
+
+The butcher looked up with a doubtful expression upon his coarse face.
+His great brutal lips twitched, and he was on the point of speaking when
+the Citizen Morot's velvety eyes met his gaze with a quiet smile in
+which arrogance and innocence were mingled.
+
+"And now," said the last-mentioned, turning affably to the old
+gentleman, "let us have the report of the reverend Father."
+
+"Ah," laughed Lerac, without attempting to conceal the contempt that was
+in his soul, "the Church."
+
+The old gentleman spread out his hands in mild deprecation.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "we are under a shadow. I do not even dare to wear
+my cassock."
+
+"You are in a valley of shadow, my reverend friend," said the butcher,
+with visible exultation, "to which the sun will never penetrate now."
+
+The Citizen Morot laughed at this pleasantry, while the old man against
+whom it was directed bowed his head patiently.
+
+"And yet," said the laugher, with a certain air of patronage, "the
+Church is of some use still. She paid for those rifles, and she will pay
+for the ammunition--is it not so, my father?"
+
+"Without doubt--without doubt."
+
+"Not to mention," continued the other, "many contributions towards our
+general fund. The force that is supplied by the strong right arm of the
+people is, one finds, a force constantly in need of substantial
+replenishment."
+
+"But," exclaimed the butcher, emphatically banging his fist down upon
+the table, "why does she do it? That is what I want to know!"
+
+The old priest glanced furtively towards Morot, and then his face
+assumed an air of childish bewilderment.
+
+"Ah!" he said guilelessly, "who can tell?"
+
+"Who, indeed!" chimed in Morot.
+
+The butcher was pleased with himself. He sat upright, and, banging the
+table a second time, he looked round defiantly.
+
+"But," said Morot, in an indifferent way which was frequently
+characteristic, "I do not see that it matters much. The money is good.
+It buys rifles, and it places them in the hands of the Citizen Lerac and
+his hardy companions. And when all is said and done, when the cartridges
+are burnt and a New Commune is raised, what does it matter whose money
+bought the rifles, and with what object the money was supplied?"
+
+The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
+conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
+upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for
+the sake of peace.
+
+The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets--causing
+Morot to wince visibly--and acquiesced.
+
+"But," he added cunningly, "the Church, see you--Ach! it is deep--it is
+treacherous. Never trust the Church!"
+
+The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
+singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man
+and said--
+
+"Have you nothing to report to us--my father?"
+
+"Nothing of great importance," replied he humbly. "All is going on well.
+We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
+and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
+in order to carry out the--the--what shall I say?--the loan of the
+ammunition."
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the butcher.
+
+Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.
+
+"Next week?" he said interrogatively.
+
+"Yes--on Tuesday."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The butcher here rose and ostentatiously dragged out a watch from the
+depths of his blouse.
+
+"I must go," he said. "I have committee at seven o'clock. And I shall
+dine first."
+
+"Yes," said Morot gravely. "Dine first. Take good care of yourself,
+citizen."
+
+"Trust me."
+
+"I do," was the reply, delivered with a little nod in answer to Lerac's
+curt farewell bow.
+
+The butcher walked noisily through the shop--heavy with
+responsibility--weighted with the sense of his own importance to the
+world in general and to France in particular. Had he walked less noisily
+he might have overheard the soft laugh of the old priest.
+
+Citizen Morot did not laugh. He was not a laughing man. But a fine,
+disdainful smile passed over his face, scarce lighting it up at all.
+
+"What an utter fool the man is!" he said impatiently.
+
+"Yes--sir," replied the old man, "but if he were less so it would be
+difficult to manage him."
+
+"I am not sure. I always prefer to deal with knaves than with fools."
+
+"That is because your Highness knows how to outwit them."
+
+"No titles--my father," said the Citizen Morot quietly. "No titles here,
+if you please. Tell me, are you quite sure of this scum--this Lerac?"
+
+"As sure as one can be of anything that comes from the streets. He is an
+excitable, bumptious, quarrelsome man; but he has a certain influence
+with those beneath him, although it seems hard to realise that there are
+such."
+
+"Ha! you are right! But a republic is a social manure-heap--that which
+is on the top is not pleasant, and the stuff below--ugh!"
+
+The manner of the two men had quite changed. He who was called Morot
+leant back in his seat and stretched his arms out wearily. There is no
+disguise like animation; when that is laid aside we see the real man or
+the real woman. In repose this Frenchman was not cheerful to look upon.
+He was not sanguine, and a French pessimist is the worst thing of the
+kind that is to be found.
+
+When the door had closed behind the departing Lerac, the old priest
+seemed to throw off suddenly quite a number of years. His voice, when
+next he spoke, was less senile, his movements were brisker. He was, in a
+word, less harmless.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot had finished his dinner, brought in from a neighbouring
+restaurant all hot, and was slumberously enjoying a very strong-smelling
+cigar, when the door of the little room opened at length, and the two
+men went out together into the dimly-lighted street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+WITHOUT REST
+
+
+Half-way down Fleet Street, on the left-hand side, stands the church of
+St. Dunstan-in-the-West. Around its grimy foundations there seethes a
+struggling, toiling race of men--not only from morning till night, but
+throughout the twenty-four hours. Within sound of this church bell a
+hundred printing-presses throb out their odorous broadsheets to be
+despatched to every part of the world. Day and night, week in week out,
+the human writing-machines, and those other machines which are almost
+human (and better than human in some points) hurry through their
+allotted tasks, and ignore the saintly shadow cast upon them by the
+spire of St. Dunstan. This is indeed the centre of the world: the hub
+from whence spring the spokes of the vast wheel of life. For to this
+point all things over the world converge by a vast web of wire,
+railroad, coach road, and steamer track. Upon wings that boast of
+greater speed than the wind can compass come to this point the voices of
+our kin in farthest lands. News--news--news. News from the East of
+events occurring in the afternoon--scan it over and flash it westward,
+where it will be read on the morning of the same day! News in every
+tongue to be translated and brought into shape--while the solemn church
+clock tells his tale in deep voice, audible above the din and scurry.
+
+From hurried scribbler to pale compositor, and behold, the news is
+bawled all over London! Such work as this goes on for ever around the
+church of St. Dunstan. Scribblers come and scribblers go; compositors
+come to their work young and hopeful, they leave it bent and poisoned,
+yet the work goes on. Each day the pace grows quicker, each day some new
+means of rapid propagation is discovered, and each day life becomes
+harder to live. One morning, perhaps, a scribbler is absent from his
+post--"Brain-fever, complete rest; a wreck." For years his writings have
+been read by thousands daily. A new man takes the vacant chair--he has
+been waiting more or less impatiently for this--and the thousands are
+none the wiser. One night the head compositor presses his black hand to
+his sunken chest, and staggers home. "And time too--he's had his turn,"
+mutters the second compositor as he thinks of the extra five shillings a
+week. No doubt he is right. Every dog his day.
+
+Nearly opposite to the church stands a tall narrow house of dirty red
+brick, and it is with this house that we have to do.
+
+At seven o'clock, one evening some years ago--when heads now grey were
+brown, when eyes now dim were bright--the Strand was in its usual state
+of turmoil. Carriage followed carriage. Seedy clerks hustled past portly
+merchants--not their own masters, _bien entendu_, but those of
+other seedy clerks. Carriages and foot-passengers were alike going
+westward. All were leaving behind them the day and the busy city--some
+after a few hours devoted to the perusal of _Times_ and
+_Gazette_; others fagged and weary from a long day of dusty books.
+
+Ah! those were prosperous days in the City. Days when men of but a few
+years' standing rolled out to Clapham or Highgate behind a pair of
+horses. Days when books were often represented by a bank-book and a
+roughly-kept day-book. What need to keep mighty ledgers when profits are
+great and returns quick in their returning?
+
+As the pedestrians made their way along the narrow pavement some of them
+glanced at the door of the tall red-brick house and read the inscription
+on a brass plate screwed thereon. This consisted of two mystic words:
+_The Beacon_. There was, however, in reality, no mystery about it.
+The _Beacon_ was a newspaper, published weekly, and the clock of
+St. Dunstan's striking seven told the end of another week. The
+publishing day was past; another week with its work and pleasure was to
+be faced.
+
+From early morning until six o'clock in the evening this narrow doorway
+and passage had been crowded by a heaving, swearing, laughing mass of
+more or less dilapidated humanity interested in the retail sale of
+newspapers. At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on
+the staff of the _Beacon_, had taken his station at the door, in
+order to greet would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging
+words: "Sold hout!"
+
+During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling
+"hout" of the _Beacon_ every Tuesday evening.
+
+At seven o'clock Mrs. Bander emerged from her den on the fourth floor,
+like a portly good-natured spider, and with a broom proceeded to attack
+the dust shaken from the boots of the journalistic fraternity, with
+noisy energy. After that she polished the door-plate; and peace reigned
+within the narrow house.
+
+On the second floor there was a small room with windows looking out into
+a narrow lane behind the house. It was a singularly quiet room; the door
+opened and shut without sound or vibration; double windows insured
+immunity from the harrowing cries of such enterprising merchants as
+exercised their lungs and callings in the narrow lane beneath. A certain
+sense of ease and comfort imperceptibly crept over the senses of persons
+entering this tiny apartment. It must have been in the atmosphere; for
+some rooms more luxuriously furnished are without it. It certainly does
+not lie in the furniture--this imperceptible sense of companionship; it
+does not lurk in the curtains. Some mansions know it, and many cottages.
+It is even to be met with in the tiny cabin of a coasting vessel.
+
+This diminutive room, despite its lack of sunlight, was such as one
+might wish to sit in. A broad low table stood in the middle of the
+floor, and on it lay the mellow light of a shaded lamp. At this table
+two men were seated opposite to each other. One was writing, slowly and
+easily, the other was idling with the calm restfulness of a man who has
+never worked very hard. He was rolling his pencil up to the top of his
+blotting-pad, and allowing it to come down again in accordance with the
+rules of gravity.
+
+This was Mr. Bodery's habit when thoughtful; and after all, there was no
+great harm in it. Mr. Bodery was editor and proprietor of the
+_Beacon_. The amusing and somewhat satirical article which appeared
+weekly under the heading of "Light" was penned by the chubby hand at
+that moment engaged with the pencil.
+
+Mr. Morgan, sub-editor, was even stouter than his chief. Laughter was
+his most prominent characteristic. He laughed over "Light" when in its
+embryo state, he laughed when the _Beacon_ sold out at six o'clock
+on Tuesday evenings. He laughed when the printing-machine went wrong on
+Monday afternoon, and--most wonderful of all--he laughed at his own
+jokes, in which exercise he was usually alone. His jokes were not of the
+first force. Mr. Morgan was the author of the slightly laboured and
+weighty Parliamentary articles on the first page. He never joked on
+paper, which is a gift apart.
+
+These two gentlemen were in no way of brilliant intellect. They had
+their share of sound, practical common-sense, which is in itself a
+splendid substitute. Fortune had come to them (as it comes to most men
+when it comes at all) without any apparent reason. Mr. Bodery had
+supplied the capital, and Mr. Morgan's share of the undertaking was
+added in the form of a bustling, hollow energy. The _Beacon_ was
+lighted, so to speak. It burnt in a dull and somewhat flickering manner
+for some years; then a new hand fed the flame, and its light spread
+afar.
+
+It was from pure good nature that Mr. Bodery held out a helping hand to
+the son of his old friend, Walter Vellacott, when that youth appeared
+one day at the office of the _Beacon_, and in an off-hand manner
+announced that he was seeking employment. Like many actions performed
+from a similar motive, Mr. Bodery's kindness of heart met with its
+reward. Young Christian Vellacott developed a remarkable talent for
+journalistic literature--in fact, he was fortunate enough to have found,
+at the age of twenty-two, his avocation in life.
+
+Gradually, as the years wore on, the influence of the young fellow's
+superior intellect made itself felt. Prom the position of a mere
+supernumerary, he worked his way upwards, taking on to his shoulders one
+duty after another--bearing the weight, quietly and confidently, of one
+responsibility after another. This exactly suited Mr. Bodery and his
+sub-editor. There was very little of the slave in the composition of
+either. They delighted in an easy, luxurious life, with just enough work
+to impart a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction. It suited Christian
+Vellacott also. In a few weeks he found his level--in a few months he
+began rising to higher levels.
+
+He was an only son; the only child of a brilliant father whose name was
+known in every court in Europe as that of a harum-scarum diplomatist,
+who could have done great things in his short life if he had wished to.
+It is from only sons that Fortune selects her favourites. Men who have
+no brothers to share their amusements turn to serious matters early in
+life. Christian Vellacott soon discovered that a head was required at
+the office of the _Beacon_ to develop the elements of success
+undoubtedly lying within the journal, and that the owner of such a head
+could in time dictate his own terms to the easy-going proprietor.
+
+Unsparingly he devoted the whole of his exceptional energies to the work
+before him. He lived in and for it. Each night he went home fagged and
+weary; but each morning saw him return to it with undaunted spirit.
+
+Human nature, however, is exhaustible. The influence of a strong mind
+over a strong body is great, but it is nevertheless limited. The
+_Beacon_ had reached a large circulation, but its slave was worn
+out. Two years without a holiday--two years of hurried, hard brain-work
+had left their mark. It is often so when a man finds his avocation too
+early. He is too hurried, works too hard, and collapses; or he becomes
+self-satisfied, over-confident, and unbearable. Fortunately for
+Christian Vellacott he was devoid of conceit, which is like the
+scaffolding round a church-spire, reaching higher and falling first.
+
+There was also a "home" influence at work. When Christian passed out of
+the narrow doorway, and turned his face westward, his day's work was by
+no means over, as will be shown hereafter.
+
+As Mr. Bodery rolled his pencil up and down his blotting-pad, he was
+slowly realising the fact that something must be done. Presently he
+looked up, and his pleasant eyes rested on the bent head of his
+sub-editor.
+
+"Morgan," he said, "I have been thinking--Seems to me Vellacott wants a
+rest! He's played out!"
+
+Mr. Morgan wiped his pen vigorously upon his coat, just beneath the
+shoulder, and sat back in his chair.
+
+"Yes," he replied; "he has not been up to the mark for some time. But
+you will find difficulty in making him take a holiday. He is a devil for
+working--ha, ha!"
+
+This "ha, ha!" did not mean very much. There was no mirth in it. It was
+a species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his
+remark.
+
+"I will ring for him now and see what he says about it."
+
+Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong.
+Almost instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without
+said, "Yess'r." A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at
+attention in the doorway.
+
+"Has Mr. Vellacott gone?"
+
+"No--sir!" In a tone which seemed to ask: "Now _is_ it likely?"
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"In the shop, sir."
+
+"Ask him to come here, please."
+
+"Yess'r."
+
+The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his
+heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head
+of the stairs. Then he proceeded to slide down the banister, to the
+trifling detriment of his waistcoat. As he reached the end of his
+perilous journey a door opened at the foot of the stairs, and a man's
+form became discernible in the dim light.
+
+"Is that the way you generally come downstairs, Wilson?" asked a voice.
+
+"It is the quickest way, sir!"
+
+"Not quite; there is one quicker, which you will discover some day if
+you overbalance at the top!"
+
+"Mr. Bodery wishes to see you, please sir!" The small boy's manner was
+very different from what it had been outside the door upstairs.
+
+"All right," replied Vellacott, putting on the coat he had been carrying
+over his arm. A peculiar smooth rapidity characterised all his
+movements. At school he had been considered a very "clean" fielder. The
+cleanness was there still.
+
+The preternaturally sharp boy--sharp as only London boys are--watched
+the lithe form vanish up the stairs; then he wagged his head very wisely
+and said to himself in a patronising way:
+
+"He's the right sort, he is--no chalk there!"
+
+Subsequently he balanced his diminutive person full length upon the
+balustrade, and proceeded to haul himself laboriously, hand over hand,
+to the top.
+
+In the meantime Christian Vellacott had passed into the editor's room.
+The light of the lamp was driven downwards upon the table, but the
+reflection of it rose and illuminated his face. It was a fairly handsome
+face, with eyes just large enough to be keen and quick without being
+dreamy. The slight fair moustache was not enough to hide the mouth,
+which was refined, and singularly immobile. He glanced at Mr. Bodery, as
+he entered, quickly and comprehensively, and then turned his eyes
+towards Mr. Morgan. His face was very still and unemotional, but it was
+pale, and his eyes were deeply sunken. A keen observer would have
+noticed, in comparing the three men, that there was something about the
+youngest which was lacking in his elders. It lay in the direct gaze of
+his eyes, in the carriage of his head, in the small, motionless mouth.
+It was what is vaguely called "power."
+
+"Sit down, Vellacott," said Mr. Brodery. "We want to have a
+consultation." After a short pause he continued: "You know, of course,
+that it is a dull season just now. People do not seem to read the papers
+in August. Now, we want you to take a holiday. Morgan has been away; I
+shall go when you come back. Say three weeks or a month. You've been
+over-working yourself a bit--burning the candle at both ends, eh?"
+
+"Hardly at both ends," corrected Vellacott, with a ready smile which
+entirely transformed his face. "Hardly at both ends--at one end in a
+draught, perhaps."
+
+"Ha, ha! Very good," chimed in Mr. Morgan the irrepressible. "At one end
+in a draught--that is like me, only the draught has got inside my cheeks
+and blown them out instead of in like yours, eh? Ha, ha!" And he patted
+his cheeks affectionately.
+
+"I don't think I care for a holiday just now, thanks," he said slowly,
+without remembering to call up a smile for Mr. Morgan's benefit.
+Unconsciously he put his hand to his forehead, which was damp with the
+heat of the printing-office which he had just left.
+
+"My dear fellow," said Mr. Bodery gravely, emphasising his remarks with
+the pencil, "you have one thing in life to learn yet--no doubt you have
+many, but this one in particular you must learn. Work is not the only
+thing we are created for--not the only thing worth living for. It is a
+necessary evil, that is all. When you have reached my age you will come
+to look upon it as such. A little enjoyment is good for every one. There
+are many things to form a brighter side to life.
+Nature--travelling--riding--rowing----"
+
+"And love," suggested the sub-editor, placing his hand dramatically on
+the right side of his broad waistcoat instead of the left. He could
+afford to joke on the subject now that the grass grew high in the little
+country churchyard where he had laid his young wife fifteen years
+before. In those days he was a grave, self-contained man, but that
+sorrow had entirely changed his nature. The true William Morgan only
+came out on paper now.
+
+Mr. Bodery was right. Christian had yet to learn a great lesson, and
+unconsciously he was even now beginning to grasp its meaning. His whole
+mind was full of his work, and out of those earnest grey eyes his soul
+was looking at the man who was perhaps saving his life.
+
+"We can easily manage it," said the editor, continuing his advantage. "I
+will take over the foreign policy article. The reviewing you can do
+yourself, as we can always send you the books, and there is no pressing
+hurry about them. The general work we will manage somehow--won't we,
+Morgan?"
+
+"Of course we will; as well as and perhaps better than he could do it
+himself, eh? Ha, ha!"
+
+"But seriously, Vellacott," continued Mr. Bodery, "things will go on
+just as well for a time. When I was young I used to make that mistake
+too. I thought that no one could manage things like myself, but in time
+I realised (as you will do some day) that things went on as smoothly
+when I was away. Depend upon it, my boy, when a man is put on the shelf,
+worn out and useless, another soon fills his place. You are too young to
+go on the shelf yet. To please me, Vellacott, go away for three weeks."
+
+"You are very kind, sir--" began the young fellow, but Mr. Bodery
+interrupted him.
+
+"Well, then, that is settled. Shall we say this day week? That will give
+you time to make your plans."
+
+With a few words of thanks Christian left the room. Vaguely and
+mechanically he wandered upstairs to his own particular den. It was a
+disappointing little chamber. The chaos one expects to find on the desk
+of a literary man was lacking here. No papers lay on the table in
+artistic disorder. The presiding genius of the room was
+method--clear-headed, practical method. The walls were hidden by shelves
+of books, from the last half-hysterical production of some vain woman to
+the single-volume work of a man's lifetime. Many of the former were
+uncut, the latter bore signs of having been read and studied. The
+companionship of these silent friends brought peace and contentment to
+the young man's spirit. He sat wearily down, and, leaning his chin upon
+his folded arms, he thought. Gradually there came into his mind pictures
+of the fair open country, of rolling hills and quiet valleys, of quiet
+lanes and running waters. A sudden yearning to breathe God's pure air
+took possession of his faculties. Mr. Bodery had gained the day. In the
+room below Mr. Morgan wrote on in his easy, comfortable manner. The
+editor was still thoughtfully playing with his pencil. The sharp little
+boy was standing on his head in the passage. At last Mr. Bodery rose
+from his chair and began his preparations for leaving. As he brushed his
+hat he looked towards his companion and said:
+
+"That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one."
+
+"I recognised that fact some years ago," replied the sub-editor, wiping
+his pen on his coat. "It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+BURDENED
+
+
+Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the
+westward-wending throng in the Strand. In the midst of the crowd he was
+alone, as townsmen soon learn to be. The passing faces, the roar of
+traffic, and the thousand human possibilities of interest around him in
+no way disturbed his thoughts. In his busy brain the traffic of thought,
+passing and repassing, crossing and recrossing, went on unaffected by
+outward things. A modern poet has confessed that his muse loves the
+pavement--a bold confession, but most certainly true. Why does talent
+gravitate to cities? Because there it works its best--because friction
+necessarily produces brilliancy. Nature is a great deceiver; she draws
+us on to admire her insinuating charms, and in the contemplation of them
+we lose our energy.
+
+Christian had been born and bred in cities. The din and roar of life was
+to him what the voice of the sea is to the sailor. In the midst of
+crowded humanity he was in his element, and as he walked rapidly along
+he made his way dexterously through the narrow places without thinking
+of it. While meditating deeply he was by no means absorbed. In his
+active life there had been no time for thoughts beyond the present, no
+leisure for dreaming. He could not afford to be absent-minded. Numbers
+of men are so situated. Their minds are required at all moments, in full
+working order, clear and rapid--ready, shoes on feet and staff in hand,
+to go whithersoever they may be called.
+
+Although he was going to the saddest home that ever hung like a
+mill-stone round a young neck, Christian wasted no time. The glory of
+the western sky lay ruddily over the river as he emerged from the small
+streets behind Chelsea and faced the broad placid stream. Presently he
+stopped opposite the door of a small red-brick house, which formed the
+corner of a little terrace facing the river and a quiet street running
+inland from it.
+
+With a latch-key he admitted himself noiselessly--almost
+surreptitiously. Once inside he closed the door without unnecessary
+sound and stood for some moments in the dark little entrance-hall,
+apparently listening.
+
+Presently a voice broke the silence of the house. A querulous,
+high-pitched voice, quavering with the palsy of extreme age. The sound
+of it was no new thing for Christian Vellacott. To-night his lips gave a
+little twist of pain as he heard it. The door of the room on the ground
+floor was open, and he could hear the words distinctly enough.
+
+"You know, Mrs. Strawd, we have a nephew, but he is always gadding
+about, I am sure; he has been a terrible affliction to us. A frothy,
+good-for-nothing boy--that is what he is. We have not set eyes on him
+for a month or more. Why, I almost forget his name!"
+
+"Christian, that is his name--a most inappropriate one, I am sure,"
+chimed in another voice, almost identical in tone. "Why Walter should
+have given him such a name I cannot tell. Ah! sister Judith, things are
+different from what they used to be when we were younger!"
+
+The frothy one outside the door seemed in no great degree impressed by
+these impartial views upon himself, though the pained look was still
+upon his lips as he turned to hang up his hat.
+
+"He's coming home to-night, though, Miss Judith," said another voice, in
+a coaxing, wheedling tone, such as one uses towards petulant children.
+"He's coming home to-night, sure enough!" It was a pleasant voice, with
+a strong, capable ring about it. One instinctively felt that the
+possessor of it was a woman to be relied upon at a crisis.
+
+"Is he now--is he now?" said the first speaker reflectively. "Well, I am
+sure it is time he did. We will just give him a lesson, eh, sister
+Hester?--we will give him a lesson, shall we not?"
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a little woman, quiet though
+somewhat anxious looking, came out. She evinced no surprise at the sight
+of the good-for-nothing nephew in the dimly-lighted passage, greeting
+him in a low voice.
+
+"How have they been to-day, nurse?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, they have been well enough, Master Christian," was the reply, in a
+cheerful undertone.
+
+"Aunt Judith has 'most got rid of her cold. But they've been very
+trying, sir--just like children, as wilful as could be--the same
+question over and over again till I was fit to cry. They are quieter
+now, but--but it's you they're abusing now, Master Chris!"
+
+The young fellow looked down into the little woman's face. His eyes were
+sympathetic enough, but he said nothing. With a little nod and a
+suppressed sigh he turned away from her. He laid his hand upon the door
+and then stopped.
+
+"As soon as you have brought up tea," he said, looking back, "I will
+take them for the evening, and you can have your rest as usual."
+
+From the room came, at intervals, the ring of silver, as if some one
+were moving the spoons and forks from the table. Christian waited until
+these sounds had ceased before he entered.
+
+"Good evening, Aunt Judith. Good evening, Aunt Hester," he said
+cheerily.
+
+They were exactly alike, these two old ladies; the same marvellously
+wrinkled features and silver hair; voluminous caps and white woollen
+shawls identical. With exaggerated marks of respect he kissed each by
+turn on her withered cheek.
+
+"May I sit down, Aunt Judith?" he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer drew a chair towards the fireplace, where a small fire burnt
+though it was the month of August.
+
+"Yes, Nephew Vellacott, you may take a seat," replied Aunt Judith with
+chill severity, "and you may also tell us where you have been during the
+last four weeks."
+
+Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
+farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
+mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
+old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.
+
+"Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
+doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us--us who support
+you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your
+back--leaving us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us,
+pray--what are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?"
+
+"What?" exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, "have the spoons
+gone--?" he almost said "again," but checked himself in time. He turned
+to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every piece of
+silver.
+
+"There, you see!" quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
+ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
+and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
+Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
+tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of
+a sick-nurse.
+
+"How did it occur?" he asked, when the old lady had recovered.
+
+"There, you see," remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of
+her accomplice.
+
+"I _am_ sure!" panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.
+
+"I _am_ sure!" echoed Aunt Hester.
+
+They allowed their nephew's remorse full scope, and then proceeded
+laboriously to extract the missing articles from the side of Aunt
+Judith's arm-chair. This farce was rehearsed every night, nearly word
+for word. A pleasant recreation for an intellectual man, assuredly. The
+only relief to the monotony was the occasional loss of a spoon in the
+crevice between the arm and the seat of Aunt Judith's chair. Then
+followed such a fumbling and a "dear me-ing" until the worthless nephew
+was perforce called to the rescue, to fish and probe with a paper-knife
+till the lost treasure was recovered.
+
+"We only wished, Nephew Vellacott, to show you what might have happened
+during your unconscionable absence. Servants are only too ready to talk
+to the first comer of their mistresses' wealth and position. They have
+no discrimination." said Aunt Judith in a reproving tone. The old ladies
+were very fond of boasting of their wealth and position, whereas, in
+reality, their nephew was the only barrier between them and the
+workhouse.
+
+"Well, Aunt Judith," replied Christian patiently, "I will try and stay
+at home more in future. But you know it is time I was doing something to
+earn my own livelihood now. I cannot exist on your kindness all my
+life!"
+
+He had learnt to humour these two silly old women. During the two years
+which had just passed he had gradually recognised the utter futility of
+endeavouring to make them realise the true state of their affairs. They
+spoke grandiloquently of the family solicitor: a man who had been in his
+grave for nearly a quarter of a century. It was simply impossible to
+instil into their minds any fact whatever, and such facts as had
+established themselves there were permanent. They belonged to another
+generation, and their mode of thought was a remnant of a forgotten and
+unsatisfactory period. To them Napoleon the First was a living man,
+Queen Victoria unheard of. The decay of their minds had been slow, and
+it had been Christian Vellacott's painful task to watch its steady
+progress. Day by day he had followed the gradual failing of each sense
+and power.
+
+There is something pathetic about the decay of a mind which has been
+driven to death by constant work, but there is a compensating thought to
+alleviate the sadness. It may rattle and grow loose, like some worn-out
+engine, where the friction presses; but it will work till it collapses
+totally, and some of the work achieved is good and permanent. It is
+bound to be so. Infinitely sadder is the sight of a mind which is
+falling to pieces by reason of the rust that has eaten into its very
+core. For rust must needs mean idleness--and no human intellect
+_need_ be idle. So it had been with these two old ladies. Born in a
+wofully unintellectual age, they had never left a certain groove in
+life. When their brother married Christian Vellacott's grandmother, they
+had left his house in Honiton to go and live in Bodmin upon a limited
+but sufficient income. These "sufficient incomes" are a curse; they do
+not allow of charity and make no call for labour.
+
+When Christian Vellacott arrived in England, an orphan with no great
+wealth, he made it his first duty to visit the only living relations he
+possessed. He was just in time to save them, literally, from starvation.
+It was obvious that he could not make a literary livelihood in Bodmin,
+so he made a home for the two old wrecks of humanity in London. Their
+means, like their minds, were simply exhausted. Aunt Judith was
+ninety-three; Aunt Hester ninety-one. During that vast blank (for blank
+it was, so far as their lives were concerned) stretching away back into
+a perspective of time which few around them could gauge--they had never
+been separated for one day. Like two apples they had grown side by side,
+until their very contact had engendered disease--a slow, deadly,
+creeping rot, finding its source at the point of contact, reaching its
+goal at the heart of each. They had _existed_ thus with terrible
+longevity--lived a mere animal life of sleeping and eating, such as
+hundreds of women are living around us now.
+
+"Of course, you must learn to make your daily bread, Nephew Vellacott!"
+answered Aunt Hester. "The desire does you credit; but you should be
+careful into what society you go without us. Girls are very designing,
+and many a one would like to marry a nephew of mine--eh, Judith?"
+
+"Yes, that they would," replied the old lady. "The minxes know that they
+might do worse than catch the nephew of Judith and Hester Vellacott!"
+
+"Look at us," continued Aunt Hester, drawing up her shrunken old form
+with a touch of pride. "Look at us? We have always avoided marriage, and
+we are very nice and happy, I am sure!"
+
+She waited for a confirmation of this bold statement, but Christian was
+not listening. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his
+knees, gazing into the fire. He was recalling the conversation which had
+passed in the little room in the Strand. Could he leave these two
+helpless old creatures. Could he get away from it all for a little
+time--away from the maddening prattle of unguided tongues, from the
+dread monotony of hopeless watching? He knew that he was wasting his
+manhood, neglecting his intellectual opportunities, and endangering his
+career; but his course of duty was marked out with terrible
+distinctness. He never saw the pathos of it, as a woman would have seen
+it, gathering perhaps some slight alleviation from the sight. It never
+entered his thoughts to complain, and he never conceived the idea of
+drawing comparisons between his position and that of other young men
+who, instead of being slaves to their relatives, made very good use of
+them. He merely went on doing his obvious duty and striving not to look
+forward too eagerly to a release at some future period.
+
+Fortunately, Mrs. Strawd was not long in bringing in the simple evening
+meal; and the attention of the old ladies was at once turned to the
+mystery hidden beneath the dish-cover. What was it, and would there be
+enough for Nephew Vellacott?
+
+Deftly, Christian poured out the tea. Two cups very weak and one
+stronger. Then two thin slices of crustless bread had to be buttered.
+This operation required great judgment and impartiality.
+
+"Excuse me, Nephew Vellacott!" said Aunt Judith, with dangerous
+severity. "Is that first slice intended for Aunt Hester? It appears to
+me that the butter is very thick--much thicker than on the second, which
+is doubtless intended for me!"
+
+"Do you think so, Aunt Judith?" asked Christian in a voice purposely
+loud in order to drown Aunt Hester's remonstrance. "Then I will take a
+little off!" He passed the knife harmlessly over the faulty slice, and
+laid the two side by side upon a plate. Then the old ladies promptly
+held a survey on them--that declared to be more heavily buttered being
+awarded to Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority.
+
+With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly
+despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the
+property of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament. The
+part he played in the domestic economy of the small household was a
+contemplative rather than an active one. Mick, Aunt Hester's bird, was
+of a more lively nature. He had, as a rule, something to say upon all
+subjects--and said it.
+
+Now Aunt Hester, in her inmost heart, loved a silent bird, and secretly
+coveted Dick, but as Mick was her property, and Dick the silent was
+owned by Aunt Judith, she never lost an opportunity of enlarging upon
+the stupidity and uselessness of silent birds. Aunt Judith, on the other
+hand, admired a lively and talkative canary; consequently she was
+weighed down with the conviction that her sister's bird was the superior
+article. Altogether, birds as a topic of conversation were best avoided.
+Dick and Mick were housed in cages of similar build--indeed, most things
+were strictly in duplicate in the whole household. Every evening
+Christian brought the cages, and Aunt Judith and Aunt Hester carefully
+placed within the wires a small piece of bread-and-butter, which Nurse
+Strawd as carefully removed, untouched, the next morning.
+
+When the birds' wants had been attended to, it was Christian's duty to
+settle the old ladies comfortably in their respective arm-chairs. This
+he did tenderly and cleverly as a woman, but it was not a pleasant sight
+to look upon. The man, with his lean, strong face, long jaw, and
+prominent chin, was so obviously out of place. These peaceful duties
+were never meant for such as he. His somewhat closely-set eyes were not
+such as wax tender over drowning flies, for even in repose they were
+somewhat direct and stern in their gaze. In fact, Christian Vellacott
+was so visibly created for strife and the forefront of life's battle,
+that it was almost painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful
+avocation.
+
+As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for
+an hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with
+the deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was
+their hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although
+they dozed in their chairs.
+
+He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
+touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and
+drowsily for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the
+room. Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys.
+Aunt Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on
+playing. Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds
+seemed to fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering.
+Silently the player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at
+the table from which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink,
+and paper were within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the
+following note:--
+
+"DEAR SIDNEY,--May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
+your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather
+than offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier
+way of spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly
+old Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,
+
+"CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT."
+
+He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed
+to "Sidney Carew, Esq., St. Mary Western, Dorset." Then he slipped
+noiselessly out of the room and upstairs to where Mrs. Strawd had a
+small sitting-room of her own. The little woman heard his footstep on
+the old creaking stairs, and opened the door of her room before he
+reached it.
+
+"If I went away for three weeks," he said, "could you do without me?"
+
+"Of course I could," replied the little woman readily. "Just you go away
+and take a holiday, Master Christian. You need it sorely, that I know.
+You do indeed. We shall get on splendidly without you. I'll just have my
+sister to come and stay, same as I did when you had to go to the Paris
+House of Parliament."
+
+"I have not had much of a holiday, you see, for two years now!"
+
+"Of course you haven't, and you want it. It's only human nature--and you
+a young man that ought to be in the open air all day. For an old woman
+like me it's different. We're made differently by the good God on
+purpose, I think."
+
+"Well, then, if your sister comes it must be understood, nurse, that I
+make the same arrangement with her as exists with you. She must simply
+be a duplicate of you--you understand?"
+
+The little woman laughed, lightly enough.
+
+"Oh, yes, Master Christian, that is all right. But you need not have
+troubled about that. She never would have thought of such a thing as
+wages, I'm sure!"
+
+"No," replied he gravely, "I know she would not, but it will be better,
+I think, to have it understood beforehand. Gratitude is a very nice
+thing to work for, but some work is worth more than gratitude. If you
+are going out for your walk, perhaps you will post this letter."
+
+Before Christian went to bed that night he held a candle close to the
+mirror and looked long and hard at his own reflection. There were dark
+streaks under his eyes, his small mouth was drawn and dry, his lips
+colourless. At each temple the bone stood out rather prominently, and
+the skin was brilliant in its whiteness and reflected the light of the
+candle. He felt his own pulse. It was beating, at one moment fast and
+irregular, at the next it was hardly perceptible.
+
+"Yes!" he muttered, with a professional nod--in his training as a
+journalist he had learnt a little of many sciences--"yes, old Bodery was
+right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A REUNION
+
+
+The gentle August night had cooled and soothed the dusty atmosphere. All
+things looked fair, even in London. The placid Thames glided stealthily
+down to the sea, as if wishing to speed on unseen, to cast at last his
+reeking waters into the cool ocean. The bright brown sails, low hulls,
+and gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream
+added to the beauty of the scene.
+
+Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the
+door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man. When once
+he had made up his mind to go, every obstacle was thrown aside, and his
+determination was now as great as had been his previous reluctance. He
+had no presentiment that he was taking an important step in life--one of
+those steps which we hardly notice at the time, but upon which we look
+back in after years and note how clear and definite it was, losing
+ourselves in vague conjecture as to what might have been had we held
+back.
+
+Christian being practical in all things, knew how to travel comfortably,
+dispensing with rugs and bags and such small packages as are understood
+to be dear to the elderly single female heart.
+
+The smoky suburbs were soon left behind, and the smiling land gave forth
+such gentle, pastoral odours as only long confinement in cities can
+teach us to detect. Christian lowered the window, and the warm air
+played round him as it had not done for two long years. The whizz of the
+wind past his face brought back the memory of the long, idle, happy days
+spent with his father in the Mediterranean, when they had been half
+sailors and wholly Bohemians, gliding from port to port, village to
+city, in their yacht, as free and careless as the wind. The warm breeze
+almost seemed to be coming to him from some parched Italian plain
+instead of pastoral Buckinghamshire.
+
+Then his thoughts travelled still further back to his school-days in
+Prague, when his father and Mr. Carew were colleagues in a brilliant but
+unfortunate embassy. Five years had passed since then. The two fathers
+were now dead, and the children had dropped apart as men and women do
+when their own personal interests begin to engross them. Now again, in
+this late summer time, they were to meet. All, that is, who were left.
+The _d�bris_, as it were. Three voices there were whose tones would
+never more be heard in the round of merry jest. Mr. Carew, Walter
+Vellacott (Uncle Walter, the young ones called him), and little Charlie
+Carew, the bright-eyed sailor of the family, had all three travelled on.
+The two former, whose age and work achieved had softened their
+departure, were often spoken of with gently lowered voice, but little
+Charlie's name was never mentioned. It was a fatal mistake--this
+silence--if you will; but it was one of those mistakes which are often
+made in wisdom. In splendid, solitary grandeur he lay awaiting the end
+of all things--the call of his Creator--in the grey ice-fields of the
+North. The darling of his ship, he had died with a smile in his blue
+eyes and a sad little jest upon his lips to cheer the rough fur-clad
+giants kneeling at his side. Time, the merciful, had healed, as best he
+could (which is by no means perfectly), the wound in the younger hearts.
+It is only the old that are quite beyond his powers; he cannot touch
+them. Mrs. Carew, a woman with a patient face and a ready smile, was the
+only representative of the vanishing generation. Her daughters--ay! and
+perhaps her sons as well (though boys are not credited with so much
+tender divination)--knew the meaning of the little droop at the side of
+their mother's smiling lips. They detected the insincerity of her kindly
+laugh.
+
+Shortly after leaving Exeter, Christian's station was reached. This was
+an old-fashioned seaport town, whose good fortune it was to lie too far
+west for a London watering-place, and too far east for Plymouth or
+Bristol. Sidney Carew was on the platform--a sturdy, typical Englishman,
+with a certain sure slowness of movement handed down to him by seafaring
+ancestors. The two friends had not met for many years, but with men
+absence has little effect upon affection. During the space of many years
+they may never meet and seldom write, but at the end that gulf of time
+is bridged over by a simple "Halloa, old fellow!" and a warm grip.
+Slowly, piece by piece, the history of the past years comes out. Both
+are probably changed in thought and nature, but the old individuality
+remains, the old bond of friendship survives.
+
+"Well, Sidney?"
+
+"How are you?"
+
+Simultaneously--and that was all. The changes were there in both, and
+noted by both, but not commented upon.
+
+"Molly is outside with the dog-cart," said Sidney; "is your luggage
+forward?"
+
+"Yes, that is it being pitched out now."
+
+It was with womanly foresight that Miss Molly Carew had elected to wait
+outside with the dog-cart while her brother met Christian on the
+platform. She feared a little natural embarrassment at meeting the old
+playfellow of the family, and concluded that the first moments would be
+more easily tided over here than at the train. Her fears were, as it
+turned out, unnecessary, but she did not know what Christian might be
+like after the lapse of years. Of herself she was sure enough, being one
+of those happy people who have no self-consciousness whatever.
+
+On seeing her, Christian came forward at once, raising his hat and
+shaking hands as if they had parted the day before.
+
+She saw at once that it was all right. This was Christian Vellacott as
+she had remembered him. She looked down at him as he stood with one hand
+resting on the splashboard, and he, looking up to her, smiled in return.
+
+"Christian," she said, "do you know I should scarcely have recognised
+you. You are so big, and--and you look positively ghastly!" She finished
+her remark with a little laugh which took away from the spoken meaning
+of it.
+
+"Ghastly?" he replied. "Thanks: I do not feel like it--only hungry.
+Hungry, and desperately glad to see a face that does not look
+overworked."
+
+"Meaning me."
+
+"Meaning you."
+
+She gave a little sarcastic nod, and pursed up a pair of very red lips.
+
+"Nevertheless I am the only person in the house who does any work at
+all. Hilda, for instance--"
+
+At this moment Sidney came up and interrupted them.
+
+"Jump up in front, Chris," he said; "Molly will drive, while I sit
+behind. Your luggage will follow in the cart."
+
+The drive of six miles passed away very pleasantly. Molly's strong
+little hands were quite accustomed to the reins, and the men were free
+to talk, which, however, she found time to do as well. The two young
+people on the front seat stole occasional sidelong glances at each
+other. The clever, mischievous little girl of Christian's recollection
+was transformed by the kindly hand of time into a fascinating and
+capable young lady. The uncertain profile had grown clear and regular.
+The truant hair was somewhat more under control, which, however, was all
+that could be said upon that subject. Only her eyes were unchanged, the
+laughing, fearless eyes of old. Fearless they had been in the times of
+childish mischief and adventure; fearless they remained in the face of
+life's graver mischances now.
+
+Christian had been a shy and commonplace-enough boy as she recollected
+him. Now she found a self-possessed man of the world. Tall and strong of
+body she saw he was, and she felt that he possessed another strength--a
+strength of mind and will which, reaching out, can grasp and hold
+anything or everything.
+
+With practised skill, Molly turned into the narrow gateway at a swinging
+trot, and then only was the house visible--a low, rambling building of
+brick and stone uncouthly mixed. Its chief outward characteristic was a
+promise of inward comfort. The sturdy manner in which its windows faced
+the scantily-wooded tableland that stretched away unbroken by wall or
+hedgerow to the sea, implied a certain thickness of wall and woodwork.
+The doorway which looked inland was singularly broad, and bore signs
+about its stonework of having once been even broader. The house had
+originally been a hollow square, with a roofless courtyard in the
+centre, into which the sheep and cattle were in olden times driven for
+safety at night against French marauders. This had later on been roofed
+in, and transformed into a roomy and comfortable hall, such as might be
+used as a sitting-room. All around the house, except, indeed, upon the
+sea-ward side, stood gnarled and twisted trees; Scotch firs in
+abundance, here and there a Weymouth pine, and occasionally a knotted
+dwarf oak with a tendency to run inland. The garden was, however, rich
+enough in shrubs and undergrowth, and to the landward side was a gleam
+of still water, being all that remained of a broad, deep moat.
+
+Mrs. Carew welcomed Christian at the open door. She said very little,
+but her manner was sufficiently warm and friendly to dispense with
+words.
+
+"Where is Hilda?" asked Molly, as she leapt lightly to the ground.
+
+"I do not know, dear. She is out, somewhere; in the garden, I expect.
+You are before your time a little. The train must have been punctual,
+for a wonder. Had Hilda known, she would have been here to welcome you,
+I know, Christian."
+
+"I expect she is at the moat," said Molly. "Come along, Christian; we
+will go and look for her. This way."
+
+In the meantime Sidney had driven the dog-cart round to the stables,
+kneeling awkwardly upon the back seat.
+
+As Christian followed his fair guide down the little path leading to the
+moat, he began to feel that it was not so difficult after all to throw
+off the dull weight of anxiety that lay upon his mind. The thoughts
+about the _Beacon_ were after all not so very absorbing. The
+anxiety regarding the welfare of the two old ladies was already
+alleviated by distance. The strong sea air, the change to pleasant and
+kindly society, were already beginning their work.
+
+Suddenly Molly stopped, and Christian saw that she was standing at the
+edge of a long, still sheet of water bounded by solid stonework, which,
+however, was crumbling away in parts, while everywhere the green moss
+grew in velvety profusion.
+
+"Oh, Christian," said Molly lightly, "I suppose Sidney told you a little
+of our news. Men's letters are not discursive as a rule I know, but no
+doubt he told you--something."
+
+He was standing beside her at the edge of the moat, looking down into
+the deep, clear water.
+
+"Yes," he replied slowly, "yes, Molly; he told me a little in a scrappy,
+unsatisfactory way."
+
+A pained expression came into her eyes for a moment, and then she spoke,
+rather more quickly than was habitual with her, but without raising her
+voice.
+
+"He told you--nothing about Hilda?" she said interrogatively.
+
+He turned and looked down at her.
+
+"No--nothing."
+
+Then he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw approaching them a
+young man and a maiden whose footsteps had been inaudible upon the
+moss-grown path. The man was of medium height, with an honest brown
+face. He was dressed for riding, and walked with a slight swagger, which
+arose less from conceit than from excessive riding on horseback. The
+maiden was tall and stately, and in her walk there was an old-fashioned
+grace of movement which harmonised perfectly with the old-world
+surroundings. She was looking down, and Christian could not see her
+face; but as she wore no hat, he saw and recognised her hair. This was
+of gold--not red, not auburn, not flaxen, but pure and living gold. The
+sun glinting through the trees shone upon it and gleamed, but in reality
+the hair gleamed without the aid of sunlight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+BROKEN THREADS
+
+
+They came forward, and suddenly the girl raised her face. She made a
+little hesitating movement of non-recognition, and then suddenly her
+face was transformed by a very pleasant smile. There was something
+peculiar in Hilda Carew's smile, which came from the fact that her
+eyelashes were golden, while her eyes were dark blue. The effect
+suggested a fascinating kitten. In repose her face was almost severe in
+its refined beauty, and the set of her lips indicated a certain
+self-reliance which with years might become more prominent if trouble
+should arrive.
+
+"Christian!" she exclaimed, "I am sorry I did not know you." They shook
+hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.
+
+"Mr. Farrar," she said; "Mr. Vellacott."
+
+The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
+Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking
+contradiction to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.
+
+"Tea is ready," said Molly somewhat hastily; "let us go in."
+
+Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
+followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion
+found herself compelled to wait for him.
+
+"Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,"
+said he in a conversational way; "it is quite green, and almost
+transparent."
+
+"Yes," replied Molly, moving away tentatively, "we see most peculiar
+effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep."
+
+He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
+lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
+truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
+cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.
+
+"Yes," he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether
+the action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At
+length he turned to follow her, but Molly had failed in her object; the
+others had passed out of earshot.
+
+"Tell me," said Christian in a lowered voice, "who is he?"
+
+"He is the squire of St. Mary Eastern, six miles from here," she
+replied; "very well off; very good to his mother, and in every way
+nice."
+
+Christian tore off a small branch which would have touched his forehead
+had he walked on without stooping. He broke it into small pieces, and
+continued throwing up at intervals into the air a tiny stick, hitting it
+with his hand as they walked on.
+
+"And," he said suggestively, "and--"
+
+"Yes, Christian," she replied decisively, "they are engaged. Come, let
+us hurry; I always pour out the tea. I told you before, if you remember,
+that I was the only person in the house who did any work."
+
+When Christian opened his eyes the following morning, the soft hum of
+insects fell on his ear instead of the roar of London traffic. Through
+the open window the southern air blew upon his face. Above the sound of
+busy wings the distant sea sang its low dirge. It was a living
+perspective of sound. The least rustle near at hand overpowered it, and
+yet it was always there--an unceasing throb to be felt as much as heard.
+Some acoustic formation of the land carried the noise, for the sea was
+eight miles away. It was very peaceful; for utter stillness is not
+peace. A room wherein an old clock ticks is infinitely more soothing
+than a noiseless chamber.
+
+Nevertheless the feeling that forced itself into Christian Vellacott's
+waking thoughts was not peaceful. It was a sense of discomfort.
+Town-people expect too much from the country--that is the truth of it.
+They quite overlook the fact that where human beings are there can be no
+peace.
+
+This sudden sense of restlessness annoyed him. He knew it so well. It
+had hovered over his waking head almost daily during the last two years,
+and here, in the depths of the country, he had expected to be without
+it. Moreover, he was conscious that he had not brought the cause with
+him. He had found it, waiting.
+
+There were many things--indeed there was almost everything--to make his
+life happy and pleasant at St. Mary Western. But in his mind, as he woke
+up on this first morning, none of these things found place. He came to
+his senses thinking of the one little item which could be described as
+untoward--thinking of Hilda, and Hilda engaged to be married to Fred
+Farrar. It was not that he was in love with Hilda Carew himself. He had
+scarcely remembered her existence during the last two years. But this
+engagement jarred, and Farrar jarred. It was something more than the
+very natural shock which comes with the news that a companion of our
+youth is about to be married--shock which seems to shake the memory of
+that youth; to confuse the background of our life. It is by means of
+such shocks as these that Fate endeavours vainly to make us realise that
+the past is irrevocable--that we are passing on, and that that which has
+been can never be again. And at the same time we learn something else:
+namely, that the past is not by any means unchangeable. So potential is
+To-day that it not only holds To-morrow in the hollow of its hand, but
+it can alter Yesterday.
+
+Christian Vellacott lay upon his bed in unwonted idleness, gazing
+vaguely at the flying clouds. The window was open, and the song of the
+distant sea rose and fell with a rhythm full of peace. But in this man's
+mind there was no peace. In all probability there never would be
+complete peace there, because Ambition had set its hold upon him. He
+wanted to do more than there was time for. Like many of us, he began by
+thinking that Life is longer than it is. Its whole length is in those
+"long, long thoughts" of Youth. When those are left behind, we settle
+down to work, and the rest of the story is nothing but labour. Vellacott
+resented this engagement because he felt that Hilda Carew had stepped
+out of that picture which formed what was probably destined to be the
+happiest time of his life--his Youth. For the unhappiness of Youth is
+preferable to the resignation of Age. He felt that she had willingly
+resigned something which he would on no account have given up. Above
+all, he felt that it was a mistake. This was, of course, at the bottom
+of it. He probably felt that it was a pity. We usually feel so on
+hearing that a pretty and charming girl is engaged to be married. We
+think that she might have done so much better for herself, and we grow
+pensive or possibly sentimental over her lost opportunity when
+contemplating him in the mirror as he shaves. Like all so-called happy
+events, an engagement is not usually a matter of universal rejoicing.
+Some one is, in all probability, left to think twice about it. But
+Christian Vellacott was not prepared to admit that he was in that
+position.
+
+He was naturally of an observant habit--his father had been
+one of the keenest-sighted men of his day--and he had graduated at the
+subtlest school in the world. He unwittingly fell to studying his
+fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of
+this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little
+scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically
+pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his
+clients.
+
+With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note. The
+squire of St. Mary Eastern was apparently very similar to his fellows.
+He was an ordinary young British squire with a knowledge of horses and a
+highly-developed fancy for smart riding-breeches and long boots. He had
+probably received a fair education, but this had ceased when he closed
+his last school-book. The seeds of knowledge had been sown, but they
+lacked moisture and had failed to grow. He was good-natured, plucky in a
+hard-headed British way, and gentlemanly. In all this there was nothing
+exceptional--nothing to take note of--and Vellacott only remembered the
+limpness of Frederick Farrar's grasp. He thought of this too
+persistently and magnified it. And this being the only mental note made,
+was rather hard on the young squire of St. Mary Eastern.
+
+Vellacott thought of these things while he dressed, he thought of them
+intermittently during the unsettled, noisy, country breakfast, and when
+he found himself walking beside the moat with Hilda later on he was
+still thinking of them.
+
+They had not yet gathered into their hands the threads which had been
+broken years before. At times they hit upon a topic of some slight
+common interest, but something hovered in the air between them. Hilda
+was gay, as she had always been, in a gentle, almost purring way; but a
+certain constrained silence made itself felt at times, and they were
+both intensely conscious of it.
+
+Vellacott was fully aware that there was something to be got over, and
+so instead of skipping round it, as a woman might have done, he went
+blundering on to the top of it.
+
+"Hilda," he said suddenly, "I have never congratulated you."
+
+She bent her head in a grave little bow which was not quite English; but
+she said nothing.
+
+"I can only wish you all happiness," he continued rather vaguely.
+
+Again she made that mystic little motion of the head, but did not look
+towards him, and never offered the assistance of smile or word.
+
+"A long life, a happy one, and your own will," he added more lightly,
+looking down into the green water of the moat.
+
+"Thank you," she said, standing quite still beside him.
+
+And then there followed an awkward pause. It was Vellacott who finally
+broke the silence in the only way left to him.
+
+"I like Farrar," he said. "I am sure he will make you happy. He--is a
+lucky fellow."
+
+At the end of the walk that ran the whole length of that part of the
+moat which had been allowed to remain intact, she made a little movement
+as if to turn aside beneath the hazel trees and towards the house. But
+he would not let her go. He turned deliberately upon his heel and waited
+for her. There was nothing else to do but acquiesce. They retraced their
+steps with that slow reflectiveness which comes when one walks backwards
+and forwards over the same ground.
+
+There is something eminently conversational in the practice of walking
+to and fro. For that purpose it is better than an arm-chair and a pipe,
+or a piece of knitting.
+
+Occasionally Vellacott dropped a pace behind, apparently with a purpose;
+for when he did so he raised his eyes instantly. He seemed to be slowly
+detailing the maiden, and he frowned a little. She was exactly what she
+had promised to be. The singularly golden hair which he had last seen
+flowing freely over her slight young shoulders had acquired a
+decorousness of curve, although the hue was unchanged. The shoulders
+were exactly the same in contour, on a slightly larger scale; and the
+manner of carrying her head--a manner peculiarly her own, and suggestive
+of a certain gentle wilfulness--was unaltered.
+
+And yet there was a change: that subtle change which seems to come to
+girls suddenly, in the space of a week--of one night. And this man was
+watching her with his analytical eyes, wondering what the change might
+be.
+
+He was more or less a bookworm, and he possibly thought that this
+subject--this pleasant young subject walking beside him in a blue cotton
+dress--was one which might easily be grasped and understood if only one
+gave one's mind to it. Hence the little frown. It denoted the gift of
+his mind. It was the frown that settled over his eyes when he cut the
+pages of a deep book and glanced at the point of his pencil.
+
+He had read many books, and he knew a number of things. But there is one
+subject of which very little can be learnt in books--precisely the
+subject that walked in a blue cotton dress by Christian Vellacott's side
+at the edge of the moat. If any one thinks that book-learning can aid
+this study, let him read the ignorance of Gibbon, comparing it with the
+learning of that cheery old ignoramus Montaigne. And Vellacott was
+nearer to Gibbon in his learning than to Montaigne in his careless
+ignorance of those things that are written in books.
+
+He glanced at her; he frowned and brought his whole attention to bear
+upon her, and he could not even find out whether she was pleased to
+listen to his congratulations, or angry, or merely indifferent. It was
+rather a humiliating position for a clever man--for a critic who knew
+himself to be capable of understanding most things, of catching the
+drift of most thoughts, however imperfectly expressed. He was vaguely
+conscious of defeat. He felt that he was nonplussed by a pair of soft
+round eyes like the eyes of a kitten, and the dignified repose of a pair
+of demure red lips. Both eyes and lips, as well as shoulders and golden
+hair, were strangely familiar and strangely strange by turns.
+
+With one finger he twisted the left side of his moustache into his
+mouth, and, dragging at it with his teeth, distorted his face in an
+unbecoming if reflective manner, which was habitually indicative of the
+deepest attention.
+
+While reflecting, he forgot to be conversational, and Hilda seemed to be
+content with silence. So they walked the length of the moat twice
+without speaking, and might have accomplished it a third time, had
+little Stanley Carew not appeared upon the scene with the impulsive
+energy of his thirteen years, begging Christian to bowl him some really
+swift overhands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+PUPPETS
+
+
+"Ah! It goes. It goes already!"
+
+The speaker--the Citizen Morot--slowly rubbed his white hands one over
+the other.
+
+He was standing at the window of a small house in an insignificant
+street on the southern side of the Seine. He was remarkably calm--quite
+the calmest man within the radius of a mile; for the insignificant
+little street was in an uproar. There was a barricade at each end of it.
+Such a barricade as Parisians love. It was composed of a few overturned
+omnibuses; for the true Parisian is a cynic. He likes overturned things,
+and he loves to see objects of peace converted to purposes of war. He is
+not content that ploughshares be beaten into swords. He prefers
+altar-rails. And so this little street was blocked at either end by a
+barricade of overturned omnibuses, of old hampers and empty boxes, of a
+few loads of second-hand bricks and paving-stones brought from the scene
+of some drainage operations round the corner.
+
+In the street between the barricades, surged, hooted, and yelled that
+wildest and most dangerous of incomprehensibles--a Paris mob.
+Half-a-dozen orators were speaking at once, and no one was listening to
+them. Here and there amidst the rabble a voice was raised at times with
+suspicious persistence.
+
+"_Vive le Roi!_" it cried. "Long live the King!"
+
+A few took up the refrain, but the general tone was negative. It was not
+so much a question of upholding anything as of throwing down that which
+was already up.
+
+"Down with the Republic!" was the favourite cry. "Down with the
+President! Down with everything!"
+
+And each man cried down his favourite enemy.
+
+The Citizen Morot listened, and his contemptuous mouth was twisted with
+a delicate, subtle smile.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered. "The voice of the people. The howling of the wolves.
+Go on, go on, my braves. Cry 'Long live the King,' and soon you will
+begin to believe that you mean it. They are barking now. Let them bark.
+Soon we shall teach them to bite, and then--then, who knows?"
+
+His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he stood there amidst the din
+and hubbub--dreaming. At last he raised his hand to his forehead--a
+prominent, rounded forehead, flat as the palm of one's hand from eyebrow
+to eyebrow, and curving at either side, sharply, back to deep-sunken
+temples.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a little laugh; and he drew from an inner
+pocket a delicately scented pocket-handkerchief, with which he wiped his
+brow. "If I get excited now, what will it be when they begin--to bite?"
+
+All this while the orators were shouting their loudest, and the voices
+dispersed throughout the crowd raised at intervals their short, sharp
+cry of--
+
+"Long live the King!"
+
+And the police? There were only two agents attached to the immediate
+neighbourhood, and they were smoking cigars and drinking absinthe in two
+separate cellars, with the door locked on the outside. They were
+prisoners of war of the most resigned type. The room in which stood the
+Citizen Morot was dark, and wisely so. For the Parisian street
+politician can make very pretty practice of a lighted petroleum-lamp
+with an empty bottle or half a brick. The window was wide open, and the
+wooden shutters were hooked back.
+
+The attitude of the man was interested and slightly self-satisfied. It
+suggested that of the manager of a theatre looking down from an
+upper-tier box upon a full house and a faultless stage. At the same time
+he was keeping what sailors call a very "bright look-out" towards either
+end of the street. From his elevated position he was able to see over
+the barricades, and he watched with intense interest the movements of
+two women (or perhaps men disguised as such) who stood in the centre of
+the street just beyond each obstruction.
+
+There was something dramatic in the motionless attitude of these two
+women, standing guard alone in the deserted street, on the wrong side of
+the barricades.
+
+At times Morot leant well out of the window and listened. Then he stood
+back again and contemplated the crowd.
+
+Each orator was illuminated by a naphtha "flare," which, being held in
+unsteady hands, flickered and wavered, casting strange gleams of light
+over the evil faces upturned towards it. At times one speaker would
+succeed in raising a laugh or extracting a groan, and when he did so
+those listening to his rivals turned and surged towards him. There was
+plenty of movement. It was what the newspapers call an animated
+scene--or a disgraceful scene--according to their political bias.
+
+The Citizen Morot could not hear the jokes nor distinguish the cause of
+the groaning. But he did not seem to mind much. The speeches were not of
+the description to be given in full in the morning papers. There were,
+fortunately, no reporters present. It was the frank eloquence of the
+slaughter-house--the unclad humour of the market.
+
+Suddenly one of the women--she who was posted at the southern end of the
+street--raised both her arms, and the Citizen leant far out of the
+window. He was very eager, and his hawk-like eyes blinked perpetually.
+His hand was raised to his mouth, and the lights of the orators gleamed
+on something that he held in his fingers--something that looked like
+silver.
+
+The woman held her two arms straight up into the air for some moments,
+then she suddenly crossed them twice, turning at the same moment and
+scrambling over the barricade. A long shrill whistle rang out over the
+heads of the mob, and its effect was almost instantaneous. The "flares"
+disappeared like magic. Dark figures swarmed up the lamp-posts and
+extinguished the feeble lights. The voice of the orator was still.
+Silence and darkness reigned over that insignificant little street on
+the southern side of the Seine. Then came the clatter of cavalry--the
+rattle of horses' feet, and the ominous clank of empty scabbards against
+spur and buckle. A word of command, and a scrambling halt. Then silence
+again, broken only by the shuffling of feet (not too well clad) in the
+darkness between the barricades.
+
+The Citizen Morot leant recklessly out of the window, peering into
+the gloom. He forgot to make use of the delicately scented
+pocket-handkerchief now, and the drops of perspiration trickled slowly
+down his face.
+
+The soldiers shuffled in their saddles. Some of the spirited little
+Arabs pawed the pavement. One of them squealed angrily, and there was a
+slight commotion somewhere in the rear ranks--an equine difference of
+opinion. The officers had come forward to the barricade and were
+consulting together. The question was--what was there behind that
+barricade? It might be nothing--it might be everything. In Paris one can
+never tell. At last one of them determined to see for himself. He
+scrambled up, putting his foot through the window of an omnibus in
+passing. Against the dim light of the street-lamp beyond, his slight,
+straight figure stood out in bold relief. It was a splendid mark for a
+man with chalked sights to his rifle.
+
+"Ah!" muttered the Citizen, "you are all right this time--master, the
+young officer. They are only barking. Next time perhaps it will be quite
+another history."
+
+The officer turned and disappeared. After the lapse of a few moments a
+dozen words of command were shouted, and upon them followed the sharp
+click of hilt on scabbard as the sabres fell home.
+
+After a pause it became evident that the barricade was being destroyed.
+And then lights flashed here and there. In a compact column the cavalry
+advanced at a trot. The street was empty.
+
+Citizen Morot turned away and sat down on a chair that happened to be
+placed near the window. His finely-drawn eyebrows were raised with a
+questioning weariness.
+
+"Pretty work!" he ejaculated. "Pretty work for--my father's son! So
+grand, so open, so noble!"
+
+He waited there, in the darkness, until the cavalry had been withdrawn
+and the local firemen were at work upon the barricade. Then, when order
+was fully restored, he left the house, walking quietly down the length
+of the insignificant little street.
+
+Ten minutes later he entered the tobacco-shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe.
+Mr. Jacquetot was at his post, behind the counter near the window, with
+the little tin box containing postage-stamps in front of him upon his
+desk. He was always there--like the poor. He laid aside the _Petit
+Journal_ and wished the new-comer a courteous, though breathless,
+good evening.
+
+The salutation was returned gravely and pleasantly. The Citizen Morot
+lingered a moment and remarked that it was a warm evening. He never
+seemed to be in a hurry. Then he passed on into the little room behind
+the shop.
+
+There he found Lerac, the foreman of the slaughter-house. The butcher
+was pale with excitement. His rough clothing was dishevelled; his
+stringy black hair stood up uncouthly in the centre of his head, while
+over his temples it was plastered down with perspiration and suet
+pleasingly mingled.
+
+"Well?" he exclaimed, with triumphant interrogation.
+
+"Good," said Morot. "Very good. It marches, my friend. It marches
+already."
+
+"Ah! But you are right. The People see you--it is a power!"
+
+"It is," acquiesced Morot fervently.
+
+How he hated this man!
+
+"And you stayed to the last?" inquired Lerac. He was rather white about
+the lips for a brave man.
+
+"Till the last," echoed Morot, taking up some letters addressed to him
+which lay on the table.
+
+"And the street was quite clear before they broke through the barrier?"
+
+"Quite--the People did not wait." He seemed to resign himself to
+conversation, for he put the letters into his pocket and sat down. "Had
+you," he inquired, "any difficulty in getting them away?"
+
+"Oh no," somewhat loftily and quite unsuspicious of irony. "The passages
+were narrow, of course; but we had allowed for that in our organisation.
+Organisation and the People, see you--"
+
+"Yes," replied Morot. "Organisation and the People." Like Lerac, he
+stopped short, apparently lost in the contemplation of the vast
+possibilities presented to his mental vision by the mere thought of such
+a combination.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed the butcher energetically, "I must move on. I have
+meetings. I merely wished to hear from you that all was right--that no
+one was caught."
+
+He was bubbling over with excitement and the sense of his own huge
+importance.
+
+The Citizen Morot raised his secretive eyes.
+
+"Good-night," he said, with an insolence far too fine for the butcher's
+comprehension.
+
+"Well--good-night. We may congratulate ourselves, I think, Citizen!"
+
+"I congratulate you," said Morot. "Good-night."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+It is probable that, had Lerac looked back, there would have been murder
+done in the small room behind the tobacco-shop. But the contemptuous
+smile soon vanished from the face of the Citizen Morot. No smile
+lingered there long. It was not built upon smiling lines at all.
+
+Then he took up his letters. There were only two of them: one bearing
+the postmark of a small town in Morbihan, the other hailing from
+England.
+
+He replaced the first in his pocket unread; the second he opened. It was
+written in French.
+
+"There are difficulties," it said. "Can you come to me? Cross from
+Cherbourg to Southampton--train from thence to this place, and ask for
+Signor Bruno, an Italian refugee, living at the house of Mrs. Potter, a
+_ci-devant_ laundress."
+
+The Citizen Morot rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the back of his
+hand, making a sharp, grating sound.
+
+"That old man," he said, "is getting past his work. He is losing nerve;
+and nerve is a thing that we cannot afford to lose."
+
+Then he turned to the letter again.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly; "St. Mary Western. He is there--how very
+strange. What a singular coincidence!"
+
+He fell into a reverie with the letter before him.
+
+"Carew is dead--but still I can manage it. Perhaps it is just as well
+that he is dead. I was always afraid of Carew."
+
+Then he wrote a letter, which he addressed to "Signor Bruno, care of
+Mrs. Potter, St. Mary Western, Dorset."
+
+"I shall come," he wrote, "but not in the way you suggest. I have a
+better plan. You must not know me when we meet."
+
+He purchased a twenty-five centime stamp from Mr. Jacquetot, and posted
+the letter with his own hand in the little wall-box at the corner of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+FALSE METAL
+
+
+There was, however, no cricket for Stanley Carew that morning. When
+they came within sight of the house Mrs. Carew emerged from an open
+window carrying several letters in her hand. She was not hurrying, but
+walking leisurely, reading a letter as she walked.
+
+"Just think, Hilda dear," she said, with as much surprise as she ever
+allowed herself. "I have had a letter from the Vicomte d'Audierne. You
+remember him?"
+
+"Yes," said the girl; "I remember him, of course. He is not the sort of
+man one forgets."
+
+"I always liked the Viscount," said Mrs. Carew, pensively looking at the
+letter she held in her hand. "He was a good friend to us at one time. I
+never understood him, and I like men whom one does not understand."
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+"Yes," she answered vaguely.
+
+"Your father admired him tremendously," Mrs. Carew went on to say. "He
+said that he was one of the cleverest men in France, but that he had
+fallen in a wrong season, and would not adapt himself. Had France been a
+monarchy, the Vicomte d'Audierne would have been in a very different
+position."
+
+Vellacott did not open his own letters. He seemed to be interested in
+the conversation of these ladies. He was not a reserved man, but a
+secretive, which is quite a different thing. Reserve is natural--it
+comes unbidden, and often unwelcome. Secretiveness is born of
+circumstances. Some men find it imperative to cultivate it, although
+their soul revolts within them. In professional or social matters it is
+often merely an expediency--in some cases it almost feels like a crime.
+There are some secrets which cannot be divulged; there are some
+deceptions which a certain book-keeper will record upon the credit side
+of our account.
+
+Like most young men who have got on in their calling, Christian
+Vellacott held his career in great respect. He felt that any sacrifice
+made for it carried its own reward. He thought that it levelled scruples
+and justified deceptions.
+
+He knew this Vicomte d'Audierne by reputation; he wished to hear more of
+him; and so he feigned ignorance--listening.
+
+"What has he written about?" inquired Hilda.
+
+"To ask if he may come and see us. I suppose he means to come and stay."
+
+Vellacott looked what the French call "contraried."
+
+"When?" asked the girl.
+
+"On Monday week."
+
+And then Mrs. Carew turned to her other letters. Vellacott took the
+budget addressed to him, and walked away to where an iron table and some
+chairs stood in the shade of a deodar.
+
+In a few minutes he looked still more put out. He had learnt of the
+disturbances in Paris, and was reading a rather panic-stricken letter
+from Mr. Bodery. The truth was that there was no one in the office of
+the _Beacon_ who knew anything whatever about French home politics
+but Christian Vellacott.
+
+A continuance of these disturbances would necessarily assume political
+importance, and might even lead to a crisis. This meant an instant
+recall for Vellacott. In a crisis his presence in London or Paris was
+absolutely necessary to the _Beacon_.
+
+His holiday had barely lasted twenty-four hours, and there was already a
+question of recall. It happened also that within that short space a
+considerable change had come over Vellacott. The subtle influence of a
+country life, and possibly the low, peaceful song of the distant sea,
+were already beginning to make themselves felt. He actually detected a
+desire to sit still and do nothing--a feeling of which he had not
+hitherto been conscious. He was distinctly averse to leaving St. Mary
+Western just yet. But there is one task-master who knows no mercy and
+makes no allowances. Some of us who serve him know it to our cost, and
+yet we would be content to serve no other. That task-master is the
+Public.
+
+Vellacott was a public servant, and he knew his position.
+
+Somewhat later in the morning Molly and Hilda found him still seated at
+the table, writing with that concentrated rapidity which only comes with
+practice.
+
+"I am sorry," he said, looking up, "but I must send off a telegram. I
+shall walk in to the station."
+
+"I was just coming," said Hilda, "to ask if you would drive me in. I
+want to get some things."
+
+"And," added Molly, "there are some domestic commissions--butcher,
+baker, &c."
+
+Vellacott expressed his entire satisfaction with the arrangement, and by
+the time he had finished his letter the dog-cart was waiting at the
+door.
+
+Several of the family were standing round the vehicle talking in a
+desultory manner, and Vellacott learnt then for the first time that
+Frederick Farrar had left home that same morning to attend a midland
+race-meeting.
+
+It was one of those brilliant summer days when it is quite impossible to
+be pessimistic and exceedingly difficult to compass preoccupation. The
+light breeze bowling over the upland from the sea had just sufficient
+strength to blow away all mental cobwebs. Also, Christian Vellacott had
+suddenly given way to one of those feelings which sometimes come to us
+without apparent reason. The present was joyous enough without the aid
+of the ever-to-be-bright future, and Vellacott felt that, after all,
+French politics and Frederick Farrar did not quite monopolise the world.
+
+Hilda was on this occasion more talkative than usual. There was in her
+manner a new sense of ease, almost of familiarity, which Vellacott could
+not understand. He noticed that she spoke invariably in generalities,
+avoiding all personal matters. Of herself she said no word, though she
+appeared willing enough to answer any question he might ask. She led him
+on to talk of himself and his work, listening gravely to his account of
+the little household at Chelsea. He made the best of this topic, and
+even treated it in a merry vein; but her smile, though sincere enough,
+was of short duration and not in itself encouraging. She appeared to see
+the pathos of it instead of the humour. Suddenly, in the middle of a
+particularly funny story about Aunt Judith, she interrupted him and
+changed the conversation entirely. She did not again refer to his home
+life.
+
+As they were returning in the full glare of the midday sun, they
+descried in front of them the figure of an old man; he was walking
+painfully and making poor progress. Carefully dressed in black
+broadcloth, he wore a soft felt hat of a shape seldom seen in England.
+
+"I believe," said Hilda, as they approached him, "that is Signor Bruno.
+Yes, it is. Please pull up, Christian. We must give him a lift!"
+
+Christian obeyed her. He thought he detected a shade of annoyance in
+Hilda's voice, with which he fully sympathised.
+
+On hearing the sound of the wheels, the old man looked up in surprise,
+as a deaf person might have been expected to do. This movement showed a
+most charming old face, surrounded by a halo of white hair and beard.
+The features were almost perfect, and might in former days have been a
+trifle cold, by reason of their perfection. Now, however, they were
+softened by the touch of years, and Signor Bruno was the living
+semblance of guilelessness and benevolence.
+
+"How do you do, Signor Bruno?" said Hilda, speaking rather loudly and
+very distinctly. "You are back from London sooner than you expected, are
+you not?"
+
+"Ah! my dear young lady," he replied, courteously removing his hat and
+standing bareheaded.
+
+"Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London--a
+most terrible place--terrible--terrible--terrible! As I walked along
+just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are blue; yonder
+is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.' This is Italy,
+Miss Hilda--Italy with a northern fairy walking in it!"
+
+Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before
+the old gentleman recovered his breath.
+
+"Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor
+Bruno!"
+
+Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had
+alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart.
+When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed
+upon his face with a quiet persistence which might have been
+embarrassing to a younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something
+unintelligible in reply to the Italian's extensive salutation.
+
+"Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!" said Signor Bruno, as
+he replaced his picturesque hat.
+
+Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then
+came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she
+should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the
+sign, and said urbanely:
+
+"You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!"
+
+"Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!" said Christian.
+
+"But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's
+guest, and I--I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed to
+back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr.
+Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!"
+
+The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a
+peculiar self-abnegating humour.
+
+"If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to
+see why you should sit in front!" said Christian with a laugh, which
+although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion.
+
+"Ah!" replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. "There you have
+worsted me. After that I am silent, and--I obey!"
+
+He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness
+of his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until
+the village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the
+gate of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was
+re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and
+Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said:
+
+"Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various
+local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor
+Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs."
+
+"Yes," replied Christian quietly. "He seems very nice."
+
+Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as
+if to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his
+face, which was not expressive of anything in particular.
+
+"Christian," she said gravely, "you do not like him?"
+
+Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he
+seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at
+her grave face.
+
+"No," he replied. "Not very much."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!"
+
+She laughed and shook her head.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked. "How can there be anything wrong with
+him--anything that would affect us, at all events?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
+
+"He says he is an Italian?"
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"I say he is a Frenchman," said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
+"Italians do not talk English as he talks it."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"Do you know him?" she asked.
+
+"No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
+somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it
+will come to me."
+
+"When it does come," said Hilda, with a smile, "you will find that it is
+some one else. I can assure you Signor Bruno is an Italian, and beyond
+that he is the nicest old gentleman imaginable."
+
+"Well," replied Christian. "In the meantime I vote that we do not
+trouble ourselves about him."
+
+The subject was dropped, and not again referred to until after they had
+reached home, when Hilda informed her mother that Signor Bruno had
+returned.
+
+"Oh, indeed," was the reply. "I am very glad. You must ask
+him to dinner to-morrow evening. Is he not a nice old man, Christian?"
+
+"Very," replied Christian, almost before the words were out of her lips.
+"Yes, very nice." He looked across the table towards Hilda with an
+absolutely expressionless composure.
+
+During the following day, which he passed with Sidney and Stanley at sea
+in a little cutter belonging to the Carews, Christian learnt, without
+asking many questions, all that Signor Bruno had vouchsafed in the way
+of information respecting himself. It was a short story and an old one,
+such as many a white-haired Italian could tell to-day. A life, income,
+and energy devoted to a cause which never had much promise of reward.
+Failure, exile, and a life closing in a land where the blue skies of
+Italy are known only by name, where Maraschino is at a premium, and long
+black cigars almost unobtainable.
+
+Hilda was engaged on this day to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mrs.
+Farrar, at Farrar Court. Molly and Christian were to drive over for her
+in the evening. This programme was carried out, but the young people
+lingered rather longer at Farrar Court listening to the quaint,
+old-world recollections of its white-haired hostess than was allowed
+for. Consequently they were late, and heard the first dinner-bell
+ringing as they drove up the lane that led in a casual way to their
+home. (This lane was characteristic of the house. It turned off
+unobtrusively from the high road at right angles with the evident
+intention of leading nowhere.) A race upstairs ensued and a hurried
+toilet. Molly and Christian met on the stairs a few minutes later.
+Christian had won the race, for he was ready, while Molly struggled with
+a silver necklace that fitted closely round her throat. Of course he had
+to help her. While waiting patiently for him to master the intricacies
+of the old silver clasp, Molly said:
+
+"Oh, Christian, there is one place you have not seen yet. Quite close at
+hand too."
+
+"Ye--es," he replied absently, as he at length fixed the clasp. "There,
+it is done!"
+
+As he held open the drawing-room door, he said: "What is the place I
+have to see?"
+
+Signor Bruno, who was seated at the far end of the room with Mrs. Carew,
+rose as he heard the door opened, and advanced to meet Molly.
+
+"Porton Abbey," she said over her shoulder as she advanced into the
+room. "You must see Porton Abbey."
+
+The Italian shook hands with the new-comers and made a clever, laughing
+reference to Christian's politeness of the previous day. At this moment
+Hilda entered, and as soon as she had returned Signor Bruno's courteous
+salutation Molly turned towards her.
+
+"Hilda," she said, "we have never shown Christian Porton Abbey."
+
+"No," was the reply. "I have been reserving it for some afternoon when
+we do not feel very energetic. Unfortunately, we cannot get inside the
+Abbey now, though."
+
+"Why?" asked Christian, without looking towards Hilda. He had discovered
+that Signor Bruno was attempting to keep up a conversation with his
+hostess, while he took in that which was passing at the other end of the
+room. The old man was seated, and his face was within the radius of
+light cast by a shaded lamp. Christian, who stood, was in the shade.
+
+"Because it is a French monastery," replied Molly. "Here," she added,
+"is a flower for your coat, as you say the button-hole is warped by
+constant pinning in of stalks."
+
+"Thanks," he replied, stooping a little in order that she could reach
+the button-hole of his coat. She was in front of him, directly between
+him and Signor Bruno; but he could see over her head. "What sort of
+monastery is it?" he continued conversationally. "I did not know that
+there were any establishments of that sort in England."
+
+Hilda looked up rather sharply from an illustrated newspaper she
+happened to be studying. She knew that he was not adhering strictly to
+the truth. From her point of vantage behind the newspaper she continued
+to watch Christian, and she realised during the minutes that followed,
+that this was indeed the brilliant young journalist of whose fame Farrar
+had spoken as already known in London.
+
+Signor Bruno's conversation with Mrs. Carew became at this moment
+somewhat muddled.
+
+"There, you see," said Molly vivaciously, "we endeavour to interest him
+by retailing the simple annals of our neighbourhood, and his highness
+simply disbelieves us!"
+
+"Not at all," Christian hastened to add, with a laugh. "It simply
+happened that I was surprised. It shall not occur again. But tell me,
+what sort of monastery is it? Dominican? Franciscan? Carmelite?--"
+
+"Oh, goodness! I do not know."
+
+"Perhaps," said Christian, advancing towards the Italian--"perhaps
+Signor Bruno can tell us."
+
+"What is that, Mr. Vell'cott?" asked the old gentleman, making a
+movement as if about to raise his curved hand to his ear, but
+restraining himself upon second thoughts.
+
+Hilda noticed that, instead of raising his voice, Christian spoke in the
+same tone, or even lower, as he said:
+
+"We want some details of the establishment at Porton Abbey, Signor
+Bruno."
+
+The old gentleman made a little grimace expressive of disgust, at the
+same time spreading out his hands as if to ward off something hurtful.
+
+"Ach!" he said, "do not ask me. I know nothing of such people, and wish
+to learn no more. It is to them that my poor country owes her downfall.
+No, no; leave them alone. I always take care of myself
+against--against--what you say--_ces gens-l�_!"
+
+Christian awaited the answer in polite silence, and, when Signor Bruno
+had again turned to Mrs. Carew, he looked across the room towards Hilda
+with the same expression of vacant composure that she had noticed on a
+previous occasion. The accent with which Signor Bruno had spoken the few
+words of French was of the purest Parisian, entirely free from the
+harshness which an Italian rarely conquers.
+
+After dinner Hilda went out of the open window into the garden alone.
+Christian, who had seated himself at a small table in the drawing-room,
+did not move. Sidney and his mother were talking with the Italian.
+
+The young journalist was stooping over a book, a vase of flowers stood
+in front of him, but by the movement of his arm it appeared as if he
+were drawing instead of reading. Presently a faint, low whistle came
+from the garden. Though soft, the sound was very clear, and each note
+distinctly given. It was like the beginning of a refrain which broke off
+suddenly and was repeated. Signor Bruno gave a little start and a quick
+upward glance.
+
+"What is that?" he asked, with a little laugh, as if at the delicacy of
+his own nerves.
+
+"Oh," replied Mrs. Carew, "the whistle, you mean. That is our family
+signal. The children were in the habit of calling each other by that
+means in bygone years. I expect they are in the garden now, and wish us
+to join them."
+
+Mrs. Carew knew that Molly was not in the garden, but in making this
+intentional mistake she showed the wisdom of her kind.
+
+"It seems to me," said Signor Bruno, "that the air--the refrain, one
+might call it--is familiar."
+
+Christian Vellacott smiled suddenly behind his screen of flowers, but
+did not move or look up.
+
+"I expect," explained Sidney, "that you have heard the air played upon
+the bugle. It is the French 'retraite,' played by the patrol in garrison
+towns at night."
+
+In the meantime Christian had cut the fly-leaf from the book before him,
+and, after carefully folding it, he placed the paper in his
+breast-pocket. Then he rose and passed out of the open window into the
+garden.
+
+Immediately Signor Bruno asked his hostess a few polite questions
+regarding her guest--what was his occupation, how long he was going to
+stay, and whether she did not agree with him in considering that their
+young friend had a remarkably interesting face. In the course of his
+remarks the old gentleman rose and crossed to the table where Christian
+had been sitting. There was a flower there which he had not seen in
+England before. Absently he took up the book which Christian had just
+been studying, and very naturally turned to the title-page. The fly-leaf
+was gone! When he laid the volume down again he replaced it in the
+identical position in which he had found it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+A CLUE
+
+
+When Christian left the drawing-room he walked quickly down the
+moss-grown path to the moat. Hilda was standing at the edge of the dark
+water, and as he joined her she turned and walked slowly by his side.
+
+"You are a most unsatisfactory person," she said gravely after a few
+moments.
+
+He looked down at her without replying. His eyes softened for a moment
+into a smile, but his lips remained grave.
+
+"You deliberately set yourself," she continued, "to shatter one illusion
+after another. You have made me feel quite old and worldly to-night, and
+the worst of it is that you are invariably right. It is most annoying."
+
+Her voice was only half-playful. There was a shade of sadness in it.
+Christian must have divined her thoughts, for he said:
+
+"Do not let us quarrel over Signor Bruno. I dare say I am wrong
+altogether."
+
+She looked slowly round. Her eyes rested on the dark surface of the
+water, where the shadows lay deep and still; then she raised them to the
+trees, clearly outlined against the sky.
+
+"I suppose that such practical, matter-of-fact people as you are proof
+against mere outward influences."
+
+"So I used to imagine, but I am beginning to find that outward things
+are very important after all. In London it seemed only natural that
+every one should live in a hurry, with no time for thought, pushing
+forward and trying to outstrip their neighbours; but in the country it
+seems that things are different. Intellectual people live quiet,
+thoughtful, and even dreamy lives. They get through somehow without
+seeing the necessity for doing something--trying to be something that
+their neighbours cannot be--and no doubt they are happier for it. I am
+beginning to see how they are content to go on with their uneventful
+lives from year to year until the end even comes without a shock."
+
+"But you yourself would never reach that stage, Christian."
+
+"No, no, Hilda. I can understand it in others, but for me it is
+different. I have tasted too deeply of the other life. I should get
+restless----"
+
+"You are getting restless already," she interrupted gravely, "and you
+have not been here two days!"
+
+They were interrupted by Sidney's clear whistle, and a moment later
+Molly came tripping down the path.
+
+"Come along in," she said; "the old gentleman is going. I was just
+stealing away to join you when Sidney whistled."
+
+When Signor Bruno reached his home that evening, he threw his hat upon
+the table with some considerable force. His aged landlady, having left
+the lamp burning, had retired to bed. He sank into an armchair, and
+contemplated the square toes of his own boots for some moments. Then he
+scratched his head thoughtfully.
+
+"Sacr� nom d'un chien!" he muttered; "where have I seen that face
+before?"
+
+Signor Bruno spoke French when soliloquising, which was perhaps somewhat
+peculiar for an Italian. However proficient a man may be in the mastery
+of foreign tongues, he usually dreams and talks to himself in the
+language he learnt at his mother's knee. He may count fluently in a
+strange tongue, but he invariably works out all mental arithmetic in his
+own. Likewise he prays--if he pray at all--in one tongue only. On the
+other hand, it appears very easy to swear in an acquired language.
+Probably our forefathers borrowed each other's expletives when things
+went so lamentably wrong over the Tower of Babel. Still muttering to
+himself, Signor Bruno presently retired to rest with the remembrance of
+a young face, peculiarly and unpleasantly strong, haunting his dreams.
+
+Shortly after Signor Bruno's departure, Christian happened to be left
+alone in the drawing room with Hilda. He promptly produced from his
+pocket the leaf he had cut from a book earlier in the evening. Unfolding
+the paper, he handed it to her, and said:--
+
+"Do you recognise that?"
+
+She looked at it, and answered without hesitation--
+
+"Signor Bruno!"
+
+The drawing was slight, but the likeness was perfect. The face was in
+profile, and the reproduction of the intelligent features could scarcely
+have been more lifelike in a careful portrait. Christian replaced the
+paper in his pocket.
+
+"You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris," continued he, "his father
+belonged to the Austrian Embassy!"
+
+"Yes, I remember him!"
+
+"To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is."
+
+"Yes--and then?"
+
+"When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the
+envelope the name that you will find inside--written by Trevetz."
+
+For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression
+of wonder upon her face.
+
+"Even if you are right," she said, "will it affect us? Will it make us
+cease to look upon him as a friend?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Then," she said slowly, "it has come. You remember now?"
+
+"Yes; I remember now--but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather have
+my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know--or think
+I know--about Bruno!"
+
+Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and
+the subject was perforce dropped.
+
+The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It
+was short, and not very pleasant.
+
+"DEAR VELLACOTT,--Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your
+holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see
+from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in
+the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they
+were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded
+by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained,
+but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present
+somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to
+us, as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge
+of French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject.
+Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course,
+he is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that
+there is plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong
+party has got up the whole affair--perhaps the Church. We must have
+something to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in
+view I must ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on
+receipt of a telegram or letter from me.--Yours,
+
+"C. C. BODERY."
+
+Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly
+his attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim
+round the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the
+paper. The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If
+Mr. Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace
+would have been left upon the envelope.
+
+Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw
+that his movements had passed unobserved.
+
+"Anything new?" asked Sidney, from the head of the table.
+
+"Well, yes," was the reply. "There has been a disturbance in Paris. I
+may have to go over there on receipt of a telegram from the office;" he
+stopped, and looked slowly round the table. Hilda's attention was taken
+up by her plate, upon which, however, there was nothing. He leant
+forward, and handed her the toast-rack. She took a piece, but forgot to
+thank him. "I am sorry," he continued simply, "very sorry that the
+disturbances should have taken place just at this time."
+
+His voice expressed natural and sincere regret, but no surprise. This
+seemed to arouse Molly's curiosity, for she looked up sharply.
+
+"You do not seem to be at all surprised," she said.
+
+"No," he replied; "I am accustomed to this sort of thing, you see. I
+knew all along that there was the chance of being summoned at any time.
+This letter only adds to the chance--that is all!"
+
+"It is a great shame," said Molly, with a pout. "I am sure there are
+plenty of people who could do it instead of you."
+
+Christian laughed readily.
+
+"I am sure there are," he replied, "and that is the very reason why I
+must take the opportunities that fortune offers."
+
+Hilda looked across the table at him, and noted the smile upon his lips,
+the light of energy in his eyes. The love of action had driven all other
+thoughts from his mind.
+
+"I suppose," she said conversationally, "that it will in reality be a
+good thing for you if the summons does come."
+
+"Yes," he replied, without meeting her glance; "it will be a good thing
+for me."
+
+"Is that consolatory view of the matter the outcome of philosophy, or of
+virtue?" inquired Molly mischievously.
+
+"Of virtue," replied Christian gravely, and then he changed the subject.
+
+After breakfast he devoted a short time to the study of some newspaper
+cuttings inclosed in Mr. Bodery's letter. Then he suddenly expressed his
+determination of walking down to the village post office.
+
+"I wish," he said, "to send a telegram, and to get some newspapers,
+which have no doubt come by the second post. After that you will be
+troubled no more about my affairs."
+
+"Until a telegram comes," said Hilda quietly, without looking up from a
+letter she held in her hand. She received one daily from Farrar.
+
+Christian glanced at her with his quick smile.
+
+"Oh," he said, "I do not expect a telegram. It is not so serious as all
+that. In fact, it is not worth thinking about."
+
+"You have a most enviable way of putting aside disagreeable subjects,"
+persisted Hilda, "for discussion at a vague future period."
+
+Christian was steadily cheerful that morning, imperturbably practical.
+
+"That," he said, "is the outcome--not of virtue--but of philosophy. Will
+you come to the post office with Stanley and me? I am sure there is no
+possible household duty to prevent you."
+
+Together they walked through the peaceful fields. Stanley never lingered
+long beside them; something was for ever attracting him aside or ahead,
+and he ran restlessly away. Christian could not help noticing the
+difference in Hilda's manner when they were alone together. The
+semi-sarcastic _badinage_ to which he had been treated lately was
+completely dropped, and her earnest nature was allowed to show itself
+undisguised. Still she was a mystery to him. He was by habit a close
+observer, but her changing moods and humours were to him unaccountable.
+At times she would make a remark the direct contradiction of which was
+shining in her eyes, and at other times she remained silent when mere
+politeness would seem to demand speech. Who knows? Perhaps at all times
+and in all things they understood each other. When their lips were
+exchanging mere nothings--the very lightest and emptiest of
+conversational chaff--despite averted eyes, despite indifferent manner,
+their souls may have been drawn together by that silent bond of sympathy
+which holds through fair and foul, through laughter and tears, through
+life and beyond death.
+
+Christian was not in the habit of allowing himself to become absorbed by
+any passing thoughts, however deep they might be. His mind had adapted
+itself to the work required of it, as the human mind is ever ready to
+do. No deep meditating was required of it, but a quick grasp and a
+somewhat superficial treatment. Journalism is superficial, it cannot be
+otherwise; it must be universal and immediate, and therefore its touch
+is necessarily light. There is nothing permanent about it except the
+ceaseless throb of the printing machine and the warm smell of ink. That
+which a man writes one day may be rendered useless and worthless the
+next, through no carelessness of his, but by the simple course of
+events. He must perforce take up his pen again and write against
+himself. He may be inditing history, and his words may be forgotten in
+twelve hours. There is no time for deep thought, even if such were
+required. He who writes for cursory reading is wise if he writes
+cursorily.
+
+Mr. Bodery's communication in no manner disturbed Christian. He was
+ready enough to talk and laugh, or talk and be grave, as Hilda might
+dictate, while they walked side by side that morning, but she was
+strangely silent. It thus happened that little passed between them until
+they reached the post office. There, he was formally introduced to the
+spry little postmistress, who looked at him sharply over her spectacles.
+
+"I wish, Mrs. Chalder," he said cheerily, as he scribbled off his
+message to Mr. Bodery, while Hilda made friendly overtures to the
+official cat, "I wish that you would forget to send me the disagreeable
+letters, and only forward the pleasant ones. There was one this morning,
+for instance, which you might very easily have mislaid. Instead of which
+you carefully sent it rather earlier than usual and spoilt my
+breakfast."
+
+His voice unconsciously followed the swing of his pencil. It seemed
+certain that he was making conversation with the sole purpose of
+entertaining the old woman. With a pleased laugh and a shake of her grey
+curls she replied:
+
+"Ah, I wish I could, sir. I wish I could burn the bad letters and send
+on only the good ones--but they're all alike on the outside. It's as
+hard to say what's inside a letter as it is to tell what's inside a man
+by lookin' on his face."
+
+"Yes," replied Christian, reading over what he had just written. "Yes,
+Mrs. Chalder, you are right."
+
+"But the reason of your letter gettin' earlier this morning was that
+Seen'yer Bruno said he was goin' past the Hall, sir, and would just
+leave the letters at the Lodge. It is a bit out of the carrier's way,
+and that man _do_ have a long tramp every day, sir."
+
+"Ah, that accounts for it," murmured the journalist, without looking up.
+He was occupied in crossing his t's and dotting his i's. He felt that
+Hilda was looking at him, and some instinct told him that she saw the
+motive of his conversation, but still he played his part and wore his
+mask of carelessness, as men have done before women, knowing the
+futility of it, since the world began. She never referred to the
+incident, and made no remark whatever with a view to his doing so, but
+he knew that it would be remembered, and in after days he learnt to
+build up a very castle of hope upon that frail foundation.
+
+Hilda had not been paying much attention to what he was saying until
+Signor Bruno's name was mentioned. The old man had hitherto occupied a
+very secondary place in her thoughts. He was no one in her circle of
+possibly interesting people, beyond the fact of his having passed
+through a troubled political phase--a fighter on the losing side. Now he
+had, as it were, assumed a more important _r�le_. The mention of his
+name possessed a new suggestion: and all this, forsooth, because
+Christian Vellacott opined that the benevolent old face was known to
+him.
+
+She began to entertain exaggerated ideas concerning the young
+journalist's thoughts and motives. Twice had she obtained a glimpse into
+the inner chamber of his mind, and on each occasion the result had been
+a vague suggestion of some mental conflict, some dark game of
+cross-purposes between him and Signor Bruno. Remembering this, she, in
+her intelligent simplicity, began to ascribe to Christian's every word
+and action an ulterior motive which in reality did not perhaps exist.
+She noted Christian's calm and direct way of reaching the end he
+desired, and unconsciously she yielded a little to the influence of his
+strength--an influence dangerously fascinating for a strong woman. Her
+strength is so different from that of a man that there is no real
+conflict--it seeks to yield, and glories over its own downfall.
+
+After paying for the telegram, Christian took possession of the bulky
+packet of newspapers addressed to him, and they left the post office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+ON THE SCENT
+
+
+It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the
+conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of
+reviving it.
+
+"Christian," he began conversationally, "is there any smuggling done
+now? Real smuggling, I mean."
+
+
+"No, I think not," replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon
+smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment.
+
+"Why do you ask?" interposed Hilda goodnaturedly.
+
+"Well, I was just wondering," replied the boy. "It struck me yesterday
+that our boat had been moved."
+
+"But," suggested Christian, "it should be very easy to see whether it
+has been dragged over the sand or not."
+
+"Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks
+whatever on the sand," argued little Stanley, determined not to be
+cheated out of his smugglers.
+
+"Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and
+enjoyment," suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was
+saying.
+
+"Then how did he get the padlock open?"
+
+"Smugglers, I suppose," said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother,
+"would be provided with skeleton keys."
+
+"Of course," replied Stanley in an awestruck tone.
+
+"I will tell you what we will do, Stanley," said Christian. "To-morrow
+morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the
+boat and tell you whether it has been moved."
+
+"Unless," added Hilda, "a telegram comes today."
+
+Christian laughed.
+
+"Unless," he said gravely, "the world comes to an end this evening."
+
+It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation,
+that Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened
+the flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper,
+and Mr. Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the
+closely-written sheets upon which his hand was resting.
+
+"It is from Vellacott," said the editor, and after a moment's thought he
+read aloud as follows:--
+
+"Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the
+whole affair. Will write particulars."
+
+Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder.
+
+"That young man," he said, "goes about the world with his eyes
+remarkably wide open, ha-ha!"
+
+Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not
+be delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same
+afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak
+tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the
+south-west, obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle
+breeze blew gaily across the bleak upland--a very different breath from
+that which twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time.
+
+"You would not care about climbing _down_ there, I should think,"
+observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. "It is a very different
+matter getting up."
+
+He was standing, gazing lazily up at the brown cliffs with his straw hat
+tilted backwards, his hands in his pockets, and his whole person
+presenting as fair a picture as one could desire of lazy, quiescent
+strength--a striking contrast to the nervous, wiry townsman at his side.
+
+"Hardly," replied Christian, gazing upwards at the dizzy height. "It is
+rather nasty stuff--slippery in parts and soft."
+
+He turned and strolled off by Hilda's side. With a climber's love of a
+rocky height he looked upwards as they walked, and she noted the
+direction of his gaze.
+
+Presently they sat on the edge of the boat over which Stanley's sense of
+proprietorship had been so grievously outraged.
+
+"What do you know, Christian, or what do you suspect about Signor
+Bruno?" asked Hilda suddenly.
+
+Stanley was running across the sands towards them, and Christian, seeing
+his approach, avoided the question by a generality.
+
+"Wait a little longer," he said. "Let me have Trevetz's answer to
+confirm my suspicions, and then I will tell you. Suspicions are
+dangerous things to meddle with. In imparting them to other people it is
+so difficult to remember that they _are_ suspicions and nothing more."
+
+At this moment Stanley arrived and threw himself down breathlessly on
+the warm sand.
+
+"Chris!" he exclaimed, "come down here and look at these seams in the
+boat--the damp is there still."
+
+The boat was clinker-built, and where the planks overlapped a slight
+appearance of dampness was certainly discernible. Christian lay lazily
+leaning upon his elbow, sometimes glancing at the boat in obedience to
+Stanley's accusatory finger, sometimes looking towards Hilda, whose eyes
+were turned seawards.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of some words pencilled on the stern-post of
+the boat, and by the merest chance refrained from calling Stanley's
+attention to them. Drawing nearer, he could read them easily enough.
+
+     Minuit vingt-six.
+
+"It certainly looks," he said rising, "as if the boat had been in the
+water, but it may be that the dampness is merely owing to heavy dew. The
+boat wants painting, I think."
+
+He knew well enough that little Stanley's suspicions were correct. There
+was no doubt that the boat had been afloat quite recently; but Christian
+knew his duty towards the _Beacon_ and sacrificed his strict sense of
+truth to it.
+
+On the way home he was somewhat pre-occupied--as much, that is to say,
+as he was in the habit of allowing. The pencil scrawl supplied food
+enough for conjectural thought. The writing was undoubtedly fresh, and
+this was the 26th of the month. Some appointment was made for midnight
+by the words pencilled on the boat, and the journalist determined that
+he would be there to see. The question was, should he go alone? He
+watched Sidney Carew walking somewhat heavily along in front of him, and
+decided that he would not seek aid from that quarter. There was no time
+to communicate with Mr. Bodery, so the only course open to him was to go
+by himself.
+
+In a vague manner he had connected the Jesuit party with the
+disturbances in Paris and the importation of the English rifles
+wherewith the crowd had been armed. The gay capital was at that time in
+the hands of the most "Provisional" and uncertain Government imaginable,
+and the home politics of France were completely disorganised. It was
+just the moment for the Church party to attempt a retrieval of their
+lost power. The fire-arms had been recognised by the English authorities
+as some of a pattern lately discarded. They had been stored at Plymouth,
+awaiting shipment to the colonies, where they were to be served out to
+the auxiliary forces, when they had been cleverly removed. The robbery
+was not discovered until the rifles were found in the hands of a Paris
+mob, still fresh and brutal from the horrors of a long course of
+military law. Some of the more fiery of the French journals boldly
+hinted that the English Government had secretly sold the firearms with a
+view to their ultimate gain by the disorganisation of France.
+
+Christian knew as much about affairs in Paris as most men. He was fully
+aware that in the politics of a disturbed country a deed is either a
+crime or a heroism according to circumstances, and he was wise enough to
+await the course of events before thrusting his opinion down the public
+throat. But now he felt that the crisis had supervened, and unwillingly
+he recognised that it was not for him to be idle amidst those rapid
+events.
+
+These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked inland from the Cove, and
+rendered his answers to Stanley's ceaseless flow of questions upon all
+conceivable subjects somewhat vague and unreliable. Hilda was walking
+with them, and divided with Christian the task of supplying her small
+brother with varied information.
+
+As they were approaching the Hall, Christian discerned two figures upon
+the smooth lawn, evidently coming towards them. At the same moment
+Stanley perceived them.
+
+"I see Fred Farrar and Mr. Signor Bruno," he exclaimed.
+
+Christian could not resist glancing over the little fellow's head
+towards Hilda, though he knew that it was hardly a fair action. Hilda
+felt the glance but betrayed no sign. She was looking straight in front
+of her with no change of colour, no glad smile of welcome for her
+stalwart lover.
+
+"I wonder why she never told me," thought Christian.
+
+Presently he said, in an airy, conversational way: "I did not know
+Farrar was coming back so--so soon."
+
+He knew that by this early return Farrar was missing an important day of
+the race-meeting he had been attending, but did not think it necessary
+to remark upon the fact.
+
+"Yes," replied Hilda. "He does not like to leave his mother for many
+days together." The acutest ears could have detected no lowering of the
+voice, no tenderness of thought. She was simply stating a fact; but she
+might have been speaking of Signor Bruno, so cool and unembarrassed was
+her tone.
+
+"I am glad he is back," said Christian thoughtlessly. It was a mere
+stop-gap. The silence was awkward, but he possessed tact enough to have
+broken it by some better means. Instantly he recognised his mistake, and
+for a moment he felt as if he were stumbling blindfold through an
+unknown country. He experienced a sudden sense of vacuity as if his mind
+were a blank and all words futile. It was now Stanley's turn to break
+the silence, and unconsciously he did it very well.
+
+"I wonder," he said speculatively, "whether he has brought any chocolate
+creams?"
+
+Hilda laughed, and the smile was still hovering in her eyes when she
+greeted the two men. Stanley ran on into the house to open a parcel
+which Farrar told him was awaiting inspection. It was only natural that
+Hilda should walk on with the young squire, leaving Bruno and Christian
+together. The old man lingered obviously, and his companion took the
+hint readily enough, anticipating some enjoyment.
+
+"To you, Mr. Vellacott," said the Italian, with senile geniality, "to
+you whose life is spent in London this must be very charming, very
+peaceful, and--very disorganising, I may perhaps add."
+
+Christian looked at his companion with grave attention.
+
+"It is very enjoyable," he replied simply.
+
+Signor Bruno mentally trimmed his sails, and started off on another
+tack.
+
+"Our young friends," he said, indicating with a wave of his expressive
+hand Hilda and Farrar, "are admirably suited to each other. Both young,
+both handsome, and both essentially English."
+
+"Yes," answered Christian, with a polite display of interest: "and,
+nevertheless, the Carews were all brought up and educated in France."
+
+"Ah!" observed the old man, stopping to raise the head of a "Souvenir de
+Malmaison," of which he inhaled the odour with evident pleasure. The
+little ejaculation, and its accompanying action, were admirably
+calculated to leave the hearer in doubt as to whether mere surprise was
+expressed or polite acquiescence in the statement of a known fact.
+
+"Yes," added Christian, deliberately. He also stooped and raised a white
+rose to his face, thus meeting Signor Bruno upon his own ground. The
+Italian looked up, and the two men smiled at each other across the rose
+bush; then they turned and walked on.
+
+"You also know France?" hazarded Signor Bruno.
+
+"Yes; if I were not an Englishman I should choose to be a Frenchman."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now with me," said Signor Bruno frankly, "it is different. If I were
+not an Italian (which God forbid!) I think--I think, yes, I am sure, I
+would by choice have been born an Englishman."
+
+"Ah!" observed Christian gravely, and Signor Bruno turned sharply to
+glance at his face. The young Englishman was gazing straight in front of
+him earnestly, with no suspicion upon his lips of the incredulous smile
+which seemed somehow to have lurked there when he last spoke. The
+Italian turned away dissatisfied, and they walked on a few paces in
+silence, until he spoke again, reflectively:--
+
+"Yes," he said, "there is a quality in the English character which to me
+is very praiseworthy. It is a certain directness of purpose. You know
+what you wish to do, and you proceed calmly to do it, without stopping
+to consider what your neighbours may think of it. Now with the Gallic
+races--for I take this virtue of straightforwardness as Teutonic--and in
+my own country especially, men seek to gain their ends by less open
+means."
+
+They were now walking up a gentle incline to the house, which was built
+upon the buried ruins of its ancient predecessor, and Signor Bruno was
+compelled to pause in order to gain breath.
+
+"But," interposed Christian softly, "you are now talking not so much of
+the people as of the Church."
+
+Again the Italian looked sharply up, and this time he met his
+companion's eyes fixed quietly on his face. He shrugged his shoulders
+deprecatingly and spread out his delicate hands.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," he said, with engaging frankness. "I am afraid
+you are. But you must excuse a little ill-feeling in a man such as I,
+with a past such as mine has been, and loving his country as I do."
+
+"I am afraid," continued Christian, "that foreigners find our bluntness
+very disagreeable and difficult to meet; but I know that they frequently
+misjudge us on the same account. It is to our benefit, so we cannot
+complain."
+
+"In what way do we misjudge you?" asked Signor Bruno genially. They were
+almost on the threshold of the drawing-room window, which stood
+invitingly open, and from which came the sounds of cups and saucers
+being mated.
+
+"You give us credit for less intelligence than we in reality possess,"
+said Christian with a smile, as he stood aside to let his companion pass
+in first.
+
+Whatever influences may have been at work among those congregated at the
+Hall during the half-hour or so occupied by afternoon tea, no sign
+appeared upon the surface. Molly as usual led the chorus of laughter.
+Hilda smiled her sweet "kittenish" smile. Signor Bruno surpassed himself
+in the relation of innocent little tales, told with a true southern
+"verve" and spirit, while Fred Farrar's genial laugh filled in the
+interstices reliably. Grave and unobtrusive, Christian moved about among
+them. He saw when Molly wanted the hot water, and was invariably the
+first to detect an empty cup. He laughed softly at Signor Bruno's
+stories, and occasionally capped them with a better, related in a
+conciser and equally humorous manner. It was to him that Farrar turned
+for an encouraging acquiescence when one of his latest Newmarket
+anecdotes threatened to fall flat, and with it all he found time for an
+occasional spar with Signor Bruno, just by way of keeping that inquiring
+gentleman upon his guard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+BURY BLUFF
+
+
+As Christian walked rapidly across the uneven turf towards the sea at
+midnight, his thoughts were divided between a schoolboy delight in the
+adventurous nature of his expedition and an uncomfortable sensation of
+surreptitiousness. He was not accustomed to this sort of work, and felt
+remarkably like a thief. If by some mischance his absence was discovered
+at the Hall, it would be difficult to account for it unless he played
+the part of a temporary lunatic. Fortunately his window communicated
+easily enough with the garden by means of a few stone steps, but
+visitors are not usually in the habit of leaving their bedrooms in order
+to take the air at midnight. Thinking over these things in his rapid and
+rather superficial way, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
+
+The night was clear and starlit; the air soft and very pleasant, with a
+faint breath of freshness from the south-west. The moon, being well upon
+the wane, would not rise for an hour or more, but the heavens were
+glowing with the gentler light of stars, and on earth the darkness was
+of that transparent description which sailors prefer to the brightest
+moonlight.
+
+Christian Vellacott had worked out most problems in life for himself.
+Taken as a whole, his solutions had been fairly successful--as
+successful as those of most men. If his views upon things in general
+were rather photographic--that is to say, hard, with clearly defined
+shadows--it was owing to his father's somewhat cynical training and to
+the absence of a mother's influence. Elderly maiden ladies, with
+sufficient time upon their hands to manage other people's affairs in
+addition to their own, complained of his want of sympathy, which may be
+read in the sense of stating that he neither sought theirs nor asked
+advice upon questions connected with himself. This self-reliance was the
+inevitable outcome of his life at home and at the office of the
+_Beacon_. Admirable as it may be, independence can undoubtedly be
+carried to an unpleasant excess--unpleasant that is for home life. Women
+love to see their men-folk a trifle dependent upon them.
+
+Christian was in the midst of a problem as he walked across the
+tableland that stretched from St. Mary Western to the sea. That problem
+absorbed more of his attention than the home politics of France; it
+required a more careful study than any article he had ever penned for
+the _Beacon_. It gave him greater anxiety than Aunt Judy and Aunt Hester
+combined. Yet it was comprised in a single word. A single arm could
+encompass the whole of it. The single word--Hilda.
+
+Leaving the narrow road, he presently struck the little pathway leading
+to the Cove. Suddenly he stopped, and stood motionless. There--not
+twenty yards from him--was the still figure of a man. Behind Christian
+the land rose gradually to some considerable height, so that he stood in
+darkness, while against the glowing sky the figure of this watcher was
+clearly defined in hard outline. Instinctively crouching down and
+seeking the covert of a few low bushes, Christian decreased the
+intervening distance by a few yards. The faint hope that it might prove
+to be a coastguard was soon dispelled. The heavy clothing and loose
+thigh-boots were those of a fisherman. The huge "cache-nez" which lay in
+coils upon his shoulders and completely protected the neck and throat,
+was such as is worn by the natives of the C�tes-du-Nord.
+
+The sea boomed forth its melancholy song, far down in the black depths
+beyond. The tide was high, and the breeze freshening every moment.
+Christian could have crept up to the man's very feet without being
+detected. Lying still upon the short, dry grass, he watched for some
+moments.
+
+From the man's clumsy attitude it was almost possible to divine his
+slow, mindless nature--for there is expression in the very turn of a
+man's leg as he stands--and it was easy to see that he was guarding the
+little path down the cliff to the Cove.
+
+He had been posted there, and evidently meant to stay till called away.
+
+There was only one way, now, to the Cove, and that was down the face of
+the cliff: the way that Christian had that very afternoon pronounced so
+hazardous. By day it was dangerous enough; by night it was almost an
+impossibility.
+
+He crept noiselessly along to the eastward, so that the watcher stood
+upon the windward side of him, and reaching the brink he peered over
+into the darkness. Of course he could discern nothing. The sea rose and
+fell with a monotonous roar; overhead the stars twinkled as merrily as
+they have twinkled over the strifes of men from century to century.
+
+Quietly he knelt upright and buttoned his coat with some care. Then
+without a moment's hesitation he crept to the edge and cautiously
+disappeared into the grim abyss of darkness. Slowly and laboriously he
+worked his way down, feeling for each foothold in advance. Occasionally
+he muttered impatiently to himself at the slowness of his progress. He
+knew that the strata of soft sandstone trended downwards at an easy
+angle, and with consummate skill took full advantage of his knowledge.
+Occasionally he was forced to progress sideways with his face to the
+rock and hands outstretched till his fingers were cramped, and the
+feeling known as "pins and needles" assailed his arms. Then he would
+rest for some moments, peering into the darkness below him all the
+while. Once or twice he dropped a small stone cautiously, holding it at
+arm's length. When the tiny messenger touched earth soon after leaving
+his hand, he continued his downward progress. Once, no sound followed
+for some seconds, and then it was only a distant concussion far down
+beside the sea. With an involuntary shudder, the climber turned and made
+his way upwards and sideways again, before venturing to descend once
+more.
+
+For half an hour he continued his perilous struggle, till his strong
+arms were stiff and his fingers almost powerless. With marvellous
+tenacity he held to his purpose. Never since leaving the summit had he
+been able to rest both hands at once. With a dogged, mechanical
+endurance which is essentially characteristic of climbers and
+mountaineers, he lowered himself, inch by inch, foot by foot. Louder and
+louder sang the sea, as if in derision at his petty efforts, but through
+his head there rushed another sound infinitely more terrible: a
+painful, continuous buzz, which seemed to press upon his temples. A dull
+pain was slowly creeping up the muscles of his neck towards his head.
+All these symptoms the climber knew. The buzzing in his ears would never
+cease until he could lie down and breathe freely with every muscle
+relaxed, every sinew slack. The dull ache would creep up until it
+reached his brain, and then nothing could save him--no strength of will
+could prevent his fingers from relaxing their hold.
+
+"Sish--sish, sish--sish!" laughed the waves below. Placidly the stars
+held on their stately course--each perhaps peopled by millions of its
+own--young and old, tame and fiery--all pursuing shadows as we do here.
+
+"This is getting serious," muttered Christian, with a pitiful laugh. The
+perspiration was running down his face, burning his eyes, and dripping
+from his chin. With straining eyes he peered into the night. Close
+beneath him there was a ledge of some breadth. It was not flat, but
+inclined upwards from the face of the cliff, thus forming a shelf of
+solid stone. For some seconds he stared continuously at this, so as to
+reduce to a minimum the chance of being mistaken. Then with great
+caution he slid down the steep incline of smooth stone and landed
+safely. The glissade lasted but a moment, nevertheless it recalled to
+his mind a picture which was indelibly stamped in his memory. Years
+before he had seen a man slide like this, unintentionally, after a false
+step. Again that picture came to him--unimpressionable as his life had
+rendered him. Again he saw the glittering expanse of snow, and on it the
+broad, strong figure of the Vaudois guide sliding down and down, with
+madly increasing speed--feet foremost, skilful to the last. Again he
+felt the thrill which men cannot but experience at the sight of a man,
+or even of a dumb beast, fighting bravely for life. Again he saw the
+dull gleam of the uplifted ice-axe as the man dealt scientific blow
+after blow on the frozen snow, attempting to arrest his terrible career.
+And again in his mind's eye the pure expanse of spotless white lay
+before him, scarred by one straight streak, marking where the taciturn
+mountaineer had vanished over the edge of the precipice to his certain
+doom.
+
+Christian lay like a half-drowned man upon the shelving ledge, slowly
+realising his position. He calculated that he could not yet be half-way
+down, and his strength was almost exhausted. Yet, as he lay there, no
+thought of waiting for daylight, no question of retreat entered his
+stubborn West-country brain. The exploit still possessed for him the
+elements of a good joke, to be related thereafter in such a manner as
+would enforce laughter.
+
+Suddenly--within the softer sound of the sea below--a harsh, grating
+noise struck his ears. It was to him like the sound made by a nailed
+boot upon rock. It was as if another were following him down the face of
+the cliff. In a second he was upon his feet, his weariness a thing
+forgotten. Overhead, against the starlit sky, he could define the line
+of rock with its sharp, broken angles and uncouth turns. Not thirty feet
+above him something was moving. His first feeling was one of intense
+fear. Every climber knows that it is easier to pass a difficult corner
+than to stand idle, watching another do it. Slowly the dark form came
+downwards, and suddenly, with a quick sense of unutterable relief,
+Christian saw the black line of a tightened rope. When it was barely ten
+feet above him he saw that the object was no man, but a square case. In
+a flash of thought he divined what the box contained, and unhesitatingly
+ran along the ledge towards it. As it descended he seized it with both
+hands and swung it in towards himself. With pendulum-like motion it
+descended, and at last touched the rock at his feet. As this took place
+he grasped the rope with both hands and threw his entire weight upon it,
+hauling slowly in, hand over hand. So quickly and deftly was this
+carried out that those lowering overhead were deceived, and continued to
+pay out the rope slowly. Steadily Christian hauled in, the slack falling
+in snake-like coils at his feet. Only being able to guess at his
+position on the cliff, it was no easy matter to calculate how much rope
+it was necessary to take in in order to carry out the deception.
+
+At length he ceased abruptly, and proceeded to untie the knots round the
+bale. Then, after the manner of a sailor who is working out of sight
+with a life-line, he jerked the rope, which immediately began to ascend
+rapidly and with irregularity. Coil after coil ran easily away, and at
+last the frayed end passed into the darkness above Christian's head. He
+stood there watching it, and when it had disappeared he burst into a low
+hoarse laugh which suddenly broke off into a sickening gurgle, and he
+fell sideways and backwards on to the box, clutching at it with his
+nerveless fingers.
+
+When he recovered his faculties his first sensation was one of great
+cold. The breeze had freshened with the approach of dawn, and blowing
+full upon him as he lay bathed in perspiration, the effect was like that
+of a refrigerator. He moved uneasily, and found that he was lying on the
+stone ledge _outside_ the box, from which he had fallen. After a moment,
+he rose rapidly to his feet as if desirous of dismissing the memory of
+his own collapse, and turned his attention to the bundle. Beneath the
+rough covering of canvas, which was not sewn but merely lashed round, it
+was easy enough to detect the shape of the case.
+
+"What luck--what wonderful luck," he muttered, as he groped round the
+surface of the bundle.
+
+Indeed it seemed as if everything had arranged itself for his special
+benefit and advantage.
+
+The three men whose duty it had been to lower the case coiled up their
+rope and started off on foot inland, after telling the sentinel
+stationed at the head of the little path to rejoin his boat. This the
+man was only too willing to do at once. He was a semi-superstitious
+Breton of no great intelligence, who vastly preferred being afloat in
+his unsavoury yawl to climbing about unknown rocks in the dark. On the
+beach, he found his two comrades, to whom he gruffly imparted the
+information that they were to go on board.
+
+"Had the 'monsieur' said nothing else?"
+
+"No, the 'monsieur' said nothing else."
+
+The Breton intellect is not, as a rule, acute. Like sheep the three men
+proceeded to carry up from the water's edge Stanley's boat, which was
+required to carry the heavy case, their own dinghy being too small. This
+done, they rowed off silently to the yawl, which was rolling lazily in
+the trough of the sea, a quarter of a mile from the shore. Once on board
+they were regaled with some choice French profanity from the lips of a
+large man in a sealskin cap and a dirty woollen muffler. This gentleman
+they addressed as the "patron," and, with clumsy awe, informed him that
+they had waited at the same spot as before, but nothing had come, until
+at length Hoel Grall arrived with instructions from the "monsieur" to go
+on board. Whereupon further French profanity, followed by unintelligible
+orders, freely interlarded with embellishments of a forcible tenor.
+
+As the yawl swung slowly round and stood out to sea, Christian turned to
+climb up Bury Bluff. He found that he had in reality made very little
+progress in descending. Before leaving the case, he edged it by degrees
+nearer to the base of the ledge, which would render it invisible from
+the beach. The ascent was soon accomplished, and after a cautious search
+he concluded that no one was about, so set off home at a rapid pace.
+
+Before he reached the Hall the light of coming day was already creeping
+up into the eastern sky. All nature was stirring, refreshed with the
+balmy dew and coolness of the night. Far up in the higher branches of
+the Weymouth pines, the wrens were awake, calling to each other with
+tentative twitter, and pluming themselves the while for another day of
+sunshine and song.
+
+Like a thief Christian hurried on, and creeping into his bedroom window,
+was soon sleeping the dreamless, forgetful sleep of youth.
+
+By seven o'clock he was awake with all the quick realisation of a
+Londoner. In the country men wake up slowly, and slowly gather together
+their senses after an all-sufficing sleep of ten hours. In cities, five,
+four, or even three are sufficient for the unfatigued body and the
+restless mind. Men wake up quickly, and are at once in full possession
+of their faculties. It is, after all, a mere matter of habit.
+
+Christian had slept sufficiently. He rose quite fresh and strong, and
+presently sat down, coatless to write.
+
+Page after page he wrote, turning each leaf over upon its face as it was
+completed--never referring back, never hesitating, and only occasionally
+raising his pen from the paper. Line after line of neat, small writing,
+quite different from what his friends knew in letters or on envelopes,
+flowed from his pen. It was his "press" handwriting, plain, rapid, and
+as legible as print. The punctuation was attended to with singular care:
+the commas broad and heavy, the colons like the kisses in a child's
+letter, round and black. Once or twice he smiled as he wrote, and
+occasionally jerked his head to one side critically as he re-read a
+sentence.
+
+In less than two hours it was finished. He rose from his seat, and
+walked slowly to the window. Standing there he gazed thoughtfully across
+the bare, unlovely tableland towards the sea. He had written many
+hundreds of pages, all more or less masterly; he had read criticisms
+upon his own work saying that it was good; and yet he knew that the
+best--the best he had ever written--lay upon the table behind him. Then
+he turned and shook the loose leaves together symmetrically. Pensively
+he counted them. He was young and strong; the world and life lay before
+him, with their infinite possibilities--their countless opportunities to
+be seized or left. He looked curiously at the written pages. The writing
+was his own; the form of every letter was familiar; the heavy
+punctuation and clean, closely written lines such as the compositor
+loved to deal with; and while he turned the leaves over he wondered if
+ever he would do better, for he knew that it was good.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A WARNING WORD
+
+
+As the breakfast-bell echoed through the house Christian ran downstairs.
+He met Hilda entering the open door with the letters in her hand.
+
+"Down already?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," she replied incautiously, "I wished to get the letters early."
+
+"And, after all, there is nothing for you?"
+
+"No," she replied. "No, but--"
+
+She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly,
+and apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a
+peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied
+the envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address.
+Presently he raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a
+letter daintily between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little
+puffs of her pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the
+infantile amusement immensely.
+
+He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside
+for her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill
+operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
+
+"Well?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"What?"
+
+"And Mr. Trevetz's answer--I suppose it is one of those letters?"
+
+"Oh yes!" he replied. "I had forgotten my promise."
+
+He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
+
+"One is from Trevetz," he said slowly, "and the other from Mrs. Strawd."
+
+"Nothing from Mr. Bodery?" asked she indifferently.
+
+He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's
+letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his
+occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:--
+
+"No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet."
+
+"I am very glad," she murmured conventionally.
+
+"And I," he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
+
+She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it
+critically.
+
+"M-a-x," she read; "how badly it is written! Max--Max Talma--is that
+it?"
+
+"Yes," he answered gravely, "that is it."
+
+With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open
+the envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf
+of a novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as
+she unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the
+open sketch to him. At the foot was written:--
+
+"Max Talma--look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
+
+"In haste, C.T."
+
+Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his
+pocket. "Trevetz writes in a good forcible style," he said, turning to
+greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an
+instant her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as
+she caught sight of her sister and Christian standing together.
+
+"Are you just down?" she asked carelessly.
+
+"Yes," answered Christian, still holding her hand.
+
+"I have just come down."
+
+As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the
+station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was
+printed Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the
+guard, who would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at
+Paddington, and the editor of the _Beacon_ would receive it by four
+o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was
+satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a
+brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon.
+This was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer.
+The lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family
+assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were
+left open for those who wished to pass in and out.
+
+Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework,
+while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy,
+while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney
+was reading in his own room--reading for a vague law examination which
+always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.
+
+Christian was seated at the piano, playing by snatches and turning over
+the brown leaves of some very old music, unearthed from a lumber-room by
+Mrs. Carew for his benefit. He waited for no thanks or comment;
+sometimes he read a few bars only, sometimes a page. He appeared to have
+forgotten that he had an audience. Presently he rose, leaving the music
+in disorder. Hilda had been called away some time before by an old
+village woman requiring medicaments for unheard-of symptoms. Christian
+looked slowly round the room, then raising his hand he dexterously
+caught a huge moth which had flown past his face.
+
+As he crossed the room towards the open window, with a view of
+liberating the moth, a low whistle reached his ear. The refrain was that
+of the familiar "retraite." Hilda had evidently gone out to the moat by
+another door. Bowing his head, he passed between the muslin curtains and
+disappeared in the darkness. The sound of his footsteps died away almost
+immediately amidst the rustle of branch and leaf already crisp with
+approaching change.
+
+It was Stanley's bed-time. Mechanically, Molly kissed her brother,
+continuing to work thoughtfully.
+
+In a few minutes the door opened and Hilda entered the room. She came up
+to the table, and standing there with her hands resting upon some pieces
+of Molly's work, she gave a graphic description of the old woman's
+complaints and maladies. She stood quite close to Molly, and told her
+story to Mrs. Carew merrily, failing to notice that her sister had
+ceased sewing, and was listening with a surprised look in her eyes. When
+the symptoms had been detailed and laughed over, Hilda turned quietly
+and passed out into the garden. With fearless familiarity she ran
+lightly down the narrow pathway towards the moat, but no signal-whistle
+greeted her. The leaves rustled and whispered overhead; the water lapped
+and gurgled at her feet, but there was no sign or sound of life.
+
+Silent and motionless she stood, a tall fair form clad in white, amidst
+the universal, darkness. So silent and so still that it might have been
+the shade of some fair maid of bygone years mourning the loss of her
+true knight, who in all the circumstances of war had crossed that same
+moat never to return.
+
+Presently a sudden feeling of loneliness, a new sense of fear, came over
+Hilda. All around was so forbidding. The water at her feet was so black
+and mysterious. She gave a soft low whistle identical with that which
+had called Christian out twenty minutes before, but it remained
+unanswered, and through the rustling leaves she sped towards the house.
+From the open window a glow of rosy light shone forth upon the flowers,
+imparting to all alike a pallid pink, and dimly defining the grey
+tree-trunks across the lawn. As Hilda stepped between the curtains, the
+servants entered the drawing-room in solemn Indian file for evening
+prayers.
+
+Mrs. Carew looked up from the Bible which lay open before her, and said
+to Hilda:--
+
+"Where is Christian?"
+
+"I don't know, mother; he is not in the garden," answered the girl,
+crossing the room to her own particular chair.
+
+Sidney rose from his seat, and going to the window, sent his loud clear
+whistle away into the night. His broad figure remained motionless for
+some minutes, almost filling up the window; then he silently resumed his
+seat.
+
+Mrs. Carew smoothed down the silken book-marker, and began reading in a
+low voice. It is to be feared that the Psalmist's words of joy were not
+heard with understanding ears that night. A short prayer followed;
+softly and melodiously Mrs. Carew asked for blessings upon the bowed
+heads around her, and the servants left the room.
+
+"Have you not seen Christian since you went to see Mrs. Sender, Hilda?"
+asked Molly, at once.
+
+"No," replied Hilda, arranging the music into something like order upon
+the piano.
+
+"He went out about half an hour ago, in answer to your whistle."
+
+Hilda turned her head as if about to reply hastily, but checked herself,
+and resumed her task of setting the music in order.
+
+"How could I whistle," she asked gently, "when I was in the kitchen
+doling out medicated cotton-wool to Mrs. Sender?"
+
+Molly looked puzzled.
+
+"Did _you_ whistle, Sidney?" she asked.
+
+"I--no; I was half-asleep over a law-book in my own room."
+
+"I expect he has gone for a stroll, and forgotten the time," suggested
+Mrs. Carew reassuringly, as she sat down to work again.
+
+"But what about the whistle; are you sure you heard it, Molly?" asked
+Hilda, speaking rather more quickly than was habitual with her. She
+walked towards the window and drew aside the curtain, keeping her back
+turned towards the room.
+
+"Yes," answered Molly uneasily. "Yes--I heard it, and so did he, for he
+went out at once."
+
+Sidney stood awkwardly with his shoulder against the mantelpiece,
+listening in a half-hearted way to his sisters' conversation. With a
+heavy jerk he threw himself upright and slowly crossed the room. He
+stood for some moments immediately behind Hilda without touching her.
+Then he raised his hand and with gentle, almost caressing pressure round
+her waist, he made her step aside so that he could pass out. He was a
+singularly undemonstrative man, rarely giving way to what he considered
+the weakness of a caress. Fortunately, however, for their own happiness,
+his womenfolk understood him, and especially between himself and Hilda
+there existed a peculiar unspoken sympathy.
+
+In the ordinary way he would have mumbled--
+
+"Le'mme out!"
+
+On this occasion he touched her waist gently, and the caress almost
+startled her. It seemed like a confession that he shared the vague
+anxiety which she concealed so well.
+
+With the charity of maternal love, which is by no means so blind as is
+generally supposed, Mrs. Carew often said of Sidney that he invariably
+rose to the occasion; and Mrs. Carew's statements were as a rule
+correct. His slowness was partly assumed; his indifference was a mere
+habit. The assumption of the former saved him infinite worry and
+responsibility; the habit of indifference did away with the necessity of
+coming to a decision upon general questions. This state of mind may, to
+townsmen, be incomprehensible. Certain it is that such as are in that
+condition are not found among the foremost dwellers in cities. But in
+the country it is a different matter. Such cases are only too common,
+and (without breath of disparagement) they are usually to be found in
+households where one man finds himself among several women--be the
+latter mother and sisters, or wife and sisters-in-law.
+
+The man may be a thorough sportsman, he may be an excellent landlord and
+a popular squire, but within his own doors he is overwhelmed. Chivalry
+bids him give way to the wishes and desires of some woman or other, and
+if he be a sportsman he is necessarily chivalrous. When one is tired
+after a long day in the saddle or with a gun, it is so much easier to
+acquiesce and philosophically persuade oneself that the matter is not
+worth airing an adverse opinion over. This is the beginning, and if any
+beginning can look forward to great endings it is that of a habit.
+
+It would appear that Sidney Carew's occasion had come at last, for once
+outside the window he changed to a different being. The lazy slouch
+vanished from his movements, his eyes lost their droop, and he held his
+head erect.
+
+He made his way rapidly to the stable, and there, without the knowledge
+of the grooms, he obtained a large hurricane-lamp, lighted it, and
+returned towards the house. From the window Hilda saw him pass down a
+little path towards the moat, with the lamp swinging at his side, while
+the shadows waved backwards and forwards across the lawn.
+
+The mind is a strange storehouse. However long a memory may have been
+warehoused there, deep down beneath piles of other remembrances and
+conceits, it is generally to be found at the top when the demand comes,
+ready for use--for good or evil. A dim recollection was resuscitated in
+Sidney's mind. An unauthenticated nursery tale of a departing guest
+leaving with a word of joy upon his lips and warm comfort in his heart,
+turning from the glowing doorway and walking down the little pathway
+straight into the moat.
+
+Christian, however, was an excellent swimmer; he knew every inch of the
+pathway, every stone round the moat. That he should have been drowned in
+ten feet of clear water, with an easy landing within ten yards, seemed
+the wildest impossibility. Of course such things have happened, but
+Christian Vellacott was essentially wide awake, and unlikely to come to
+mishap through his own carelessness. Of all these things Sidney thought
+as he walked rapidly towards the moat, and in particular he pondered
+over Molly's statement that she had heard Hilda whistle. This had met
+with flat denial from Hilda, and Sidney, with brotherly candour, could
+only arrive at the conclusion that Molly had been mistaken. He would not
+give way to the least suggestion of anxiety even in his own mind. After
+all Christian would probably come in with some simple explanation and a
+laugh for their fears. It often happens thus, as we must all know. The
+moments so long and dreary for the watcher, whose imagination gains more
+and more power as the time passes, slip away unheeded by the awaited,
+who treats the matter with a laugh or, at the most, a few conventional
+words of sympathy.
+
+Sidney stood at the edge of the water and threw the beams of light
+across the rippling surface. Mechanically he followed the ray as it
+swept from end to end of the moat, and presently, without heeding, he
+turned his attention to the stones at his feet. A gleam of reflected
+light caught his passing gaze, and he stooped to examine the cause more
+closely.
+
+The smooth stonework was wet; in fact the water was standing in little
+pools upon it. Round these there were circles of dampness, showing that
+evaporation was taking place. The water had not lain there long. A man
+falling into the moat would have thrown up splashes such as these; in no
+other way could they be plausibly accounted for. Sidney stood erect.
+Again he held the lamp over the gleaming water, half fearing to see
+something. His lips had quite suddenly become dry and parched, and there
+was an uncomfortable throb in his throat. Suddenly he heard a rustle
+behind him, and before he could draw back Hilda was at his side. She
+slipped her hand through his arm, and by the slightest pressure drew him
+away from the moat.
+
+"You know--Sid--he could swim perfectly," she said persuasively.
+
+He made no answer, but walked slowly by her side, swinging the lamp
+backwards and forwards as a schoolboy swings his satchel. Thus he gained
+time to moisten his lips and render speech possible.
+
+Together they went round the grounds, but no sign or vestige of
+Christian did they discover. A pang of remorse came to Hilda as she
+touched her brother's strong arm. Ever since Christian's arrival she
+remembered that Sidney had been somewhat neglected, or only remembered
+when his services were required. Christian had indeed been attentive to
+him, but Hilda felt that their friendship was not what it used to be.
+The young journalist in his upward progress had left the slow-thinking
+country squire behind him. All they had in common belonged to the past;
+and, for Christian, the past was of small importance compared to the
+present. She recollected that during the last fortnight everything had
+been arranged with a view to giving pleasure to herself, Molly, and
+Christian, without heed to Sidney's inclinations. By word or sign he had
+never shown his knowledge of this; he had never implied that his
+existence or opinion was of any great consequence. She remembered even
+that such pleasures as Christian had shared with Sidney--pleasures after
+his own heart, sailing, shooting, and fishing--had been undertaken at
+Christian's instigation or suggestion, and eagerly welcomed by Sidney.
+
+And now, at the first suspicion of trouble, she turned instinctively to
+her brother for the help and counsel which were so willingly and
+modestly accorded.
+
+"Sidney," she said, "did he ever speak to you of his work?"
+
+"No," he replied slowly; "no, I think not."
+
+"He has been rather worried over those disturbances in Paris, I think,
+and--and--I suppose he has never said anything to you about Signor
+Bruno?"
+
+"Signor Bruno!" said Sidney, repeating the name in some surprise. "No,
+he has never mentioned his name to me."
+
+"He does not like him----"
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+"But you never told me--Sid!"
+
+"No," he replied simply: "there was nothing to be gained by it!"
+
+This was lamentably true, and Hilda felt that it was so, although her
+brother had no thought of posing as a martyr.
+
+"Christian," she continued softly, "distrusted him for some reason. He
+knows something of his former life, and told me a short time ago that
+Bruno was not his name at all. This morning Christian received a letter
+from Carl Trevetz, whom we knew in Paris, you will remember, saying that
+Signor Bruno's real name was Max Talma, also warning Christian to avoid
+him."
+
+"Is this all you know?" asked Sidney, in a peculiarly quiet tone.
+
+"That is all I know," she replied. "But it has struck me that--that
+this may have something to do with Signor Bruno. I mean--is it not
+probable that Christian may have discovered something which caused him
+to go away suddenly without letting Bruno know of his departure?"
+
+Sidney thought of the water at the edge of the moat. The incident might
+prove easy enough of explanation, but at the moment it was singularly
+unreconcilable with Hilda's comforting explanation. And again, the
+recollection of the signal-whistle heard by Molly was unwelcome.
+
+"Yes," he replied vaguely. "Yes, it may."
+
+He was, by nature and habit, a slow thinker, and Hilda was running away
+from him a little; but he was, perhaps, surer than she.
+
+"I am convinced, Sidney," she continued, "that Christian connects Signor
+Bruno in some manner with the disturbances in France. It seems very
+strange that an old man buried alive in a small village should have it
+in his power to do so much harm."
+
+"A man's power of doing harm is practically unlimited," he said slowly,
+still wishing to gain time.
+
+"Yes, but he has always appeared so childlike and innocent."
+
+"That is exactly what I disliked about him," said Sidney.
+
+"Then do you think he has been deliberately deceiving us all along?"
+she asked.
+
+"Not necessarily," was the tolerant reply. "You must remember that
+Christian is essentially a politician. He does not suspect Bruno of
+anything criminal; his suspicions are merely political; and it may be
+that Bruno's doings, whatever they appear to be now, may in the future
+be looked upon as the actions of a hero. Politics are impersonal, and
+Signor Bruno is only known to us socially."
+
+Hilda could not see the matter in this light. No woman could have been
+expected to do so.
+
+"I suppose," she said presently, "that Signor Bruno is a political
+intriguer."
+
+"I expect so," replied her brother.
+
+They were walking slowly up the broad path towards the house, having
+given up the idea of searching for Christian or calling him.
+
+"Then," continued Sidney, "you think it is likely that he has gone off
+to see Bruno, or to watch him?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of," he said
+gravely and doubtfully, for he was still thinking of the moat.
+
+They entered the house, and to Mrs. Carew and Molly their explanation
+was imparted. It was received somewhat doubtfully, especially by Molly.
+However, the farce had to be kept up--and do we not act in similar
+comedies every day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+A NIGHT WATCH
+
+
+Cheerfulness is, thank goodness, infectious. The watchers at the Hall
+that night made a great show of light-heartedness. Sidney had risen to
+the occasion. He laughed at the idea of anything serious having happened
+to Christian, and his confidence gradually spread and gained new
+strength. Molly, however, was apparently beyond its influence. With her
+perpetual needle-work in her hands she sat beneath the lamp and worked
+rapidly. Occasionally she glanced towards Hilda, but contributed nothing
+to the explanations forthcoming from all quarters.
+
+Hilda was also working; slowly, however, and with marvellous care. She
+was engaged upon a more artistic production than ever came from Molly's
+work-basket. Once she consulted Mrs. Carew about the colour of a skein
+of wool, but otherwise showed no inclination to avoid topics in any
+manner connected with Christian, despite the fact that these were
+obviously distasteful to her family. In all that she said, indifference
+was blended in a singular way with imperturbable cheerfulness.
+
+Thus they waited until after midnight, pretending bravely to work and
+read as if there were no such feeling as suspense in the human heart.
+Then Mrs. Carew persuaded the young people to go to bed. She had letters
+to write, and would not be ready for hours. If Christian did not appear
+by the time that she was sleepy, she would wake Sidney. After all, she
+acted her part better than they. She was old at it--they were new. She
+was experienced in stage-craft and made her points skilfully; above all,
+she did not over-act.
+
+The three young people kissed their mother and left the room, assuring
+each other of their conviction that they would find Christian at the
+breakfast table next morning. Molly's room was at the head of the
+stairs. With a smile and a nod she closed her door while Hilda and
+Sidney walked slowly down the long passage together. Arrived at the end,
+Sidney kissed his sister. She turned the handle of her door and stood
+with her back to him for a few moments without entering the room, as if
+to give him an opportunity of speaking if he had aught to say. He stood
+awkwardly behind her, gazing mechanically at her hair, which reflected
+the light from the candle that he was holding all awry, while the wax
+dripped upon the carpet.
+
+"It will be all right, Hilda," he said unevenly, "never fear!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I know it will," she replied.
+
+And then she passed into the room without closing the door, and he
+walked on with loudly-creaking shoes.
+
+Hilda crossed her room and set the candle upon the dressing-table. She
+waited there till Sidney's footsteps had ceased, and then she turned and
+walked uprightly to the door, which she closed. She looked round the
+room with a strange, vacant look in her eyes, and then she made her way
+unsteadily towards the bed, where she lay staring at the wavering candle
+and its reflection in the mirror behind until daylight came to make its
+flame grow pale and yellow.
+
+There were four watchers in the house that night. Downstairs, Mrs. Carew
+sat by the shaded lamp in her upright armchair. She was not writing, but
+had re-opened the large black Bible. Molly was courting sleep in vain,
+having resolutely blown out her candle. Sidney made no pretence. He was
+fully dressed, and seated at his rarely-used writing-table. Before him
+lay a telegraph-form bearing nothing but the address--
+
+C.C. BODERY, _Beacon_ Office, Fleet St., London.
+
+He was gazing mechanically at the blank spaces waiting to be filled in,
+and through his mind was passing and repassing the same question that
+occupied the thoughts of his mother and sisters. What could be the
+explanation of the whistle heard by Molly? The want of this alone
+sufficed to overthrow the most ingenious of consolatory explanations.
+All four looked at it from different points of view, and to each the
+signal-whistle calling Christian into the garden was an insurmountable
+barrier to every explanation.
+
+Before it was wholly light Hilda moved wearily to the window. She threw
+it open, and sat with arms resting on the sill and her chin upon her
+hands, mechanically noting the wonders of the sunrise. A soft white mist
+was rising from the thick pasture, wholly obscuring the sea and filling
+the atmosphere with a damp chill. Seated there in her thin evening
+dress, she showed no sign of feeling the cold. At times physical pain is
+almost a pleasure. The glistening damp rested on every blade of grass,
+on every leaf and twig, while the many webs stood whitely against the
+shadows, some hanging like festoons from tree to tree, others floating
+out in mid-air without apparent reason or support. In and among the
+branches lingered little secret deposits of mist waiting the sun's
+warmth to melt them all away.
+
+The suppressed creak of Sidney's door attracted Hilda's attention, but
+she did not move, merely turning to look at her own door as her brother
+passed it with awkward caution. A dull instinct told her that he was
+going to the moat again. Presently he passed beneath her window and
+across the dewy lawn, leaving a trailing mark upon the grass. The whole
+picture seemed suddenly to be familiar to her. She had lived through it
+all before--not in another life, not in years gone by, not in a dream,
+but during the last few hours.
+
+The air was very still, and she could hear the clank of the chain as
+Sidney unmoored the old punt, rarely used except by the gardener to
+clean the moat when the weeds died down in autumn. The quiet was
+rendered more remarkable by the suddenness of its advent. All night it
+had been blowing a wild gale, which dropped at dawn, and from the soft
+land the mist rose instantly.
+
+Prompted by a vague desire to be doing something, Hilda presently turned
+from the window, and, after a moment's indecision, chose from the shelf
+a novel fresh from the brain of the king of writers. With it she
+returned to her low chair and listlessly turned over the leaves for some
+moments. She raised her head and sought in vain the tiny form of a lark
+trilling out his morning hymn far up in the blue sky. Then she
+resolutely commenced to read uninterruptedly.
+
+She read on until Sidney's firm step upon the gravel beneath the window
+roused her. A minute later he knocked softly at her door. The water was
+glistening on his rough shooting-boots as he entered the room, and upon
+the brown leather gaiters there was a deeper shade showing where the wet
+grass had brushed against his legs. His honest, immobile face showed but
+little surprise at the sight of Hilda still in evening dress, but she
+saw that he noticed it.
+
+She rose from her low chair and laid aside the book, but no sort of
+greeting passed between them.
+
+"I have been all round again," he said quietly, "by daylight, and--and
+of course there is no sign."
+
+She nodded her head, but did not speak.
+
+"I have been thinking," he continued somewhat shyly, "as to what is to
+be done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I
+know it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that
+Christian has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the
+same excuse will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph
+this morning to Mr. Bodery, the editor of the _Beacon_, and await his
+instructions. I think that is all that we can do in the meantime."
+
+She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon
+the closed volume of "Vanity Fair," but instead of looking at her
+brother she was gazing calmly out of the window.
+
+"Yes," she murmured, "I think that is all that we can do in the
+meantime."
+
+Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated
+still.
+
+"Have you nothing to suggest?" he asked. "Do you think I am acting
+rightly?"
+
+She was still looking out of the window--still standing motionless near
+the table with her hand upon Thackeray's "Vanity Fair."
+
+"Yes," she replied; "everything you suggest seems wise and prudent."
+
+"Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to
+say nothing--nothing that may betray our anxiety?"
+
+"Yes, I will see them."
+
+Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round
+once more.
+
+"It is nearly half-past seven," he said, with more confidence in his
+tone, "and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for
+her to see you in that dress."
+
+Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face.
+
+"No," she said, with a sudden smile; "I will change it at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+FOILED
+
+
+When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the
+tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the
+table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves
+tucked up. The subeditor of the _Beacon_ was in reality a good hard
+worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire
+that the world should be aware of his industry.
+
+"Good morning, Morgan," said the editor, hanging up his hat.
+
+"Morning," replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before
+Mr. Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand
+with heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and
+looked up.
+
+"This article of Vellacott's is first-rate," he said. "By Jove! sir, he
+drops on these holy fathers--lets them have it right and left. The way
+he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting
+everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing
+_could_ be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see
+quickly enough that it means to show how the trick was in reality
+performed--ha, ha!"
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Bodery absently. He was glancing at the pile of
+letters that lay upon his desk. There were among them one or two
+telegrams, and these he put to one side while he took up each envelope
+in succession to examine the address, throwing it down again unopened.
+At length he turned again to the telegrams, and picked up the top one.
+He was about to tear open the envelope when there was a sharp knock at
+the door.
+
+"'M'in!" said Mr. Morgan sharply, and at the same moment the silent door
+was thrown open. The diminutive form of the boy stood in the aperture.
+
+"Gentleman to see you, sir," he said, with great solemnity.
+
+"What name?" asked Mr. Bodery.
+
+"Wouldn't give his name, sir--said you didn't know it, sir."
+
+Even this small office-boy was allowed his quantum of discretionary
+power. It rested with him whether an unknown visitor was admitted or
+politely dismissed to a much greater extent than any one suspected. Into
+his manner of announcing a person he somehow managed to convey his
+opinion as to whether it was worth the editor's time to admit him or
+not, and he invariably received Mr. Bodery's "Tell him I'm engaged" with
+a little nod of mutual understanding which was intensely comprehensive.
+
+On this occasion, his manner said, "Have him in, have him in my boy, and
+you will find it worth your while."
+
+"Show him in," said Mr. Bodery.
+
+The nameless gentleman must have been at the door upon the boy's heels,
+for no sooner had the words left Mr. Bodery's lips than a tall, dark
+form slid into the room. So noiseless and rapid were this gentleman's
+movements that there is no other word with which to express his mode of
+progression.
+
+He made a low bow, and shot up erect again with startling rapidity. He
+then stood quietly waiting until the door had closed behind the small
+boy, who, after having punctiliously expectorated upon a silver coin
+which had found its way into the palm of his hand, proceeded to slide
+down the balustrade upon his waistcoat.
+
+It often occurred that strangers addressed themselves to Mr. Morgan when
+ushered into the little back room, under the impression that he was the
+editor of the _Beacon_. Not so, however, this tall, clean-shaven person.
+He fixed his peculiar light-blue eyes upon Mr. Bodery, and, with a
+slight inclination, said suavely--
+
+"This, sir, is, I believe, your printing day?"
+
+"It is, sir, and a busy day with us," replied the editor, with no great
+warmth of manner.
+
+"Would it be possible now," inquired the stranger conversationally, "at
+this late hour, to remove a printed article and substitute another?"
+
+At these words Mr. Morgan ceased making some pencil notes with which he
+was occupied, and looked up. He met the stranger's benign glance and,
+while still looking at him, deliberately turned over all the
+proof-sheets before him, leaving no printed matter exposed to the gaze
+of the curious.
+
+Mr. Bodery had in the meantime consulted his watch.
+
+"Yes," he replied, with dangerous politeness. "There would still be time
+to do so if necessary--at the sacrifice of some hundredweight of paper."
+
+"How marvellously organised your interesting paper must be!"
+
+Dead silence. Most men would have felt embarrassed, but no sign of such
+feeling was forthcoming from any of the three. It is possible that the
+dark gentleman with the sky-blue eyes wished to establish a sense of
+embarrassment with a view to the furtherance of his own ends. If so, his
+attempt proved lamentably abortive. Mr. Bodery sat with his plump hands
+resting on the table, and looked contemplatively up into the stranger's
+face. Mr. Morgan was scribbling pencil notes on a tablet.
+
+"The truth is," explained the stranger at length, "that a friend of
+mine, who is unfortunately ill in bed this morning--"
+
+(Mr. Bodery did not look in the least sympathetic, though he listened
+attentively.)
+
+"... has received a telegram from a gentleman who I am told is on the
+staff of your journal--Mr. Vellacott. This gentleman wishes to withdraw,
+for correction, an article he has sent to you. He states that he will
+re-write the article, with certain alterations, in time for next week's
+issue."
+
+Mr. Bodery's face was pleasantly illegible.
+
+"May I see the telegram?" he asked politely.
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+The stranger produced and handed to the editor a pink paper covered with
+faint black writing.
+
+"You will see at the foot this--Mr. Vellacott's reason for not wiring to
+you direct. He wished my friend to be here before the printers got to
+work this morning; but owing to this unfortunate illness--"
+
+"I am afraid you are too late, sir," interrupted Mr. Bodery briskly.
+"The press is at work--"
+
+"My friend instructed me," interposed the stranger in his turn, "to make
+you rather a difficult proposition. If a thousand pounds will compensate
+for the loss incurred by the delay of issue, and defray the expense of
+paper spoilt--I--I have that amount with me."
+
+Mr. Bodery did not display the least sign of surprise, merely shaking
+his head with a quiet smile. Mr. Morgan, however, laid aside his pencil,
+and placed his elbow upon the proof-sheets before him.
+
+The stranger then stepped forward with a sudden change of manner.
+
+"Mr. Bodery," he said, in a low, concentrated voice, "I will give you
+five hundred pounds for a proof copy of Mr. Vellacott's article."
+
+A dead silence of some moments' duration followed this remark. Mr.
+Morgan raised his head and looked across the table at his chief. The
+editor made an almost imperceptible motion with his eyebrows in the
+direction of the door.
+
+Then Mr. Morgan rose somewhat heavily from his chair, with a hand upon
+either arm, after the manner of a man who is beginning to put on weight
+rapidly. He went to the door, opened it, and, turning towards the
+stranger, said urbanely:
+
+"Sir--the door!"
+
+This kind invitation was not at once accepted.
+
+"You refuse my offers?" said the stranger curtly, without deigning to
+notice the sub-editor.
+
+Mr. Bodery had turned his attention to his letters, of which he was
+cutting open the envelopes, one by one, with a paper-knife, without,
+however, removing the contents. He looked up.
+
+"To-morrow morning," he said, "you will be able to procure a copy from
+any stationer for the trifling sum of sixpence."
+
+Then the stranger walked slowly past Mr. Morgan out of the room.
+
+"A curse on these Englishmen!" he muttered, as he passed down the narrow
+staircase. "If I could only see the article I could tell whether it is
+worth resorting to stronger measures or not. However, that is Talma's
+business to decide, not mine."
+
+Mr. Morgan closed the door of the small room and resumed his seat. He
+then laughed aloud, but Mr. Bodery did not respond.
+
+"That's one of them," observed Mr. Morgan comprehensively.
+
+"Yes," replied the editor, "a dangerous customer. I do not like a
+blue-chinned man."
+
+"I was not much impressed with his diplomatic skill."
+
+"No; but you must remember that he had difficult cards to play. No doubt
+his information was of the scantiest, and--we are not chickens, Morgan."
+
+"No," said Mr. Morgan, with a little sigh. He turned to the revision of
+the proof-sheets again, while the editor began opening and reading his
+telegrams.
+
+"This is a little strong," exclaimed Mr. Morgan, after a few moments of
+silence, broken only by the crackle of paper. "Just listen here:--
+
+"'It simply comes to this--the General of the Society of Jesus is an
+autocrat in the worst sense of the word. He holds within his fingers the
+wires of a vast machine moving with little friction and no noise. No
+farthest corner of the world is entirely beyond its influence; no
+political crisis passes that is not hurried on or restrained by its
+power. Unrecognised, unseen even, and often undreamt of, the vast
+Society does its work. It is not for us who live in a broad-minded,
+tolerant age to judge too harshly. It is not for us to say that the
+Jesuits are unscrupulous and treacherous. Let us be just and give them
+their due. They are undoubtedly earnest in their work, sincere in their
+belief, true to their faith. But it is for us to uphold our own
+integrity. We are accused--as a nation--of stirring up the seeds of
+rebellion, of crime and bloodshed in the heart of another country. Our
+denial is considered insufficient; our evidence is ignored. There
+remains yet to us one mode of self-defence. After denying the crime (for
+crime it is in humane and political sense) we can turn and boldly lay it
+upon those whom its results would chiefly benefit: the Roman Catholic
+Church in general--the Society of Jesus in particular. We have
+endeavoured to show how the followers of Ignatius Loyola could have
+brought about the present crisis in France; the extent to which they
+would benefit by a religious reaction is patent to the most casual
+observer; let the Government of England do the rest.'"
+
+Mr. Bodery was, however, not listening. He was staring vacantly at a
+telegram which lay spread out upon the table.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed huskily.
+
+The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then
+Mr. Bodery read:
+
+"Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last
+night."
+
+Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively
+rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table.
+
+"Who is it from?" he asked.
+
+"Sidney Carew, the man he is staying with."
+
+They remained thus for some moments; the editor looking at the telegram
+with a peculiar blank expression in his eyes; Mr. Morgan staring at him
+while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with outspread finger and thumb.
+In the lane beneath the window some industrious housekeeper was sweeping
+her doorstep with aggravating monotony; otherwise there was no sound.
+
+At length Mr. Morgan rose from his seat and walked slowly to the window.
+He stood gazing out upon the smoke-begrimed roofs and crooked chimneys.
+Between his lips he held his pen, and his hands were thrust deeply into
+his trouser pockets. It was on that spot and in that attitude that he
+usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon "Home
+Affairs." He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which
+stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and
+the supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his
+orders.
+
+"Bradshaw."
+
+"Yess'r," replied the boy, closing the door. His inventive mind had
+conceived a new and improved method of going downstairs. This was to lie
+flat on his back upon the balustrade with a leg dangling on either side.
+If the balance was correct, he slid down rapidly and shot out some feet
+from the bottom, as he had, from an advantageous point of view on
+Blackfriars Bridge, seen sacks of meal shoot from a Thames warehouse
+into the barge beneath. If, however, he made a miscalculation, he
+inevitably rolled off sideways and landed in a heap on the floor. Either
+result appeared to afford him infinite enjoyment and exhilaration. On
+this occasion he performed the feat with marked success.
+
+"Guv'nor's goin' on the loose--wants the railway guide," he confided to
+a small friend in the printing interest whom he met as he was returning
+with the required volume.
+
+"Suppose you'll be sitten' upstairs now, then," remarked the
+black-fingered one with fine sarcasm. Whereupon there followed a
+feint--a desperate lunge to one side, a vigorous bob of the head, and a
+resounding bang with the railway guide in the centre of the sarcastic
+youth's waistcoat.
+
+Having executed a strategic movement, and a masterly retreat up the
+stairs, the small boy leant over the banisters and delivered himself of
+the following explanation:
+
+"I 'it yer one that time. Don't do it agin. _Good_ morning, sir."
+
+Mr. Bodery turned the flimsy leaves impatiently, stopped, looked rapidly
+down a column, and, without raising his eyes from the railway guide,
+tore a telegraph form from the handle of a drawer at his side. Then he
+wrote in a large clear style:
+
+"Will be with you at five o'clock. Invent some excuse for V.'s absence.
+On no account give alarm to authorities."
+
+The sharp boy took the telegram from the editor's hand with an
+expression of profound respect upon his wicked features.
+
+"Go down to Banks," said Mr. Bodery, "ask him to let me have two copies
+of the foreign policy article in ten minutes."
+
+When the silent door was closed, Mr. Morgan wheeled round upon his
+heels, and gazed meditatively at his superior.
+
+"Going down to see these people?" he asked, with a jerk of his head
+towards the West.
+
+"Yes, I am going by the eleven-fifteen."
+
+"I have been thinking," continued the sub-editor, "we may as well keep
+the printing-office door locked to-day. That slippery gentleman with the
+watery eyes meant business, or I am very much mistaken. I'll just send
+upstairs for Bander to go on duty at the shop door to-day as well as
+to-morrow; I think we shall have a big sale this week."
+
+Mr. Bodery rose from his seat and began brushing his faultless hat.
+
+"Yes," he replied; "do that. It would be very easy to get at the
+machinery. Printers are only human!"
+
+"Machinery is ready enough to go wrong when nobody wishes it," murmured
+Mr. Morgan vaguely, as he sat down at the table and began setting the
+scattered papers in order.
+
+Mr. Bodery and his colleagues were in the habit of keeping at the office
+a small bag, containing the luggage necessary for a few nights in case
+of their being suddenly called away. This expedient was due to Christian
+Vellacott's forethought.
+
+The editor now proceeded to stuff into his bag sundry morning newspapers
+and a large cigar case. Telegraph forms, pen, ink, and foolscap paper
+were already there.
+
+"I say, Bodery," said the sub-editor with grave familiarity, "it seems
+to me that you are taking much too serious a view of this matter.
+Vellacott is as wide awake as any man, and it always struck me that he
+was very well able to take care of himself."
+
+"I have a wholesome dread of men who use religion as a means of
+justification. A fanatic is always dangerous."
+
+"A sincere fanatic," suggested the sub-editor.
+
+"Exactly so; and a sincere fanatic in the hands of an agitator is the
+very devil. That is whence these fellows got their power. Half of them
+are fanatics and the other half hypocrites."
+
+Mr. Bodery had now completed his preparations, and he held out his plump
+hand, which the subeditor grasped.
+
+"I hope," said the latter, "that you will find Vellacott at the station
+to meet you--ha, ha!"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"If," said Mr. Morgan, following the editor to the door--"if he turns up
+here, I will wire to Carew and to you, care of the station-master."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+BOOKS
+
+
+The London express rolled with stately deliberation into Brayport
+station. Mr. Bodery folded up his newspapers, reached down his bag from
+the netting, and prepared to alight. The editor of the _Beacon_ had
+enjoyed a very pleasant journey, despite broiling sun and searching
+dust. He knew the possibilities of a first-class smoking-carriage--how
+to regulate the leeward window and chock off the other with a wooden
+match borrowed from the guard.
+
+He stepped from the carriage with the laboured sprightliness of a man
+past the forties, and a moment later Sidney Carew was at his side.
+
+"Mr. Bodery?"
+
+"The same. You are no doubt Mr. Carew?"
+
+"Yes. Thanks for coming. Hope it didn't inconvenience you?"
+
+"Not at all," replied the editor, breaking his return ticket.
+
+"D----n!" said Sidney suddenly.
+
+He was beginning to rise to the occasion. He was one of those men who
+are usually too slack to burthen their souls with a refreshing
+expletive.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired Mr. Bodery gravely.
+
+"There is a man," explained Sidney hurriedly, "getting out of the train
+who is coming to stay with us. I had forgotten his existence. _Don't_
+look round!"
+
+Mr. Bodery was a Londoner. He did not look round. Nine out of ten
+country-bred people would have indulged in a stare.
+
+"Is this all your luggage?" continued Sidney abruptly. He certainly was
+rising.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then come along. We'll bolt for it. He'll have to get a fly, and that
+means ten minutes' start if the porter is not officious and mulls
+things."
+
+They hurried out of the station and clambered into the dog-cart. Sidney
+gathered up the reins.
+
+"Hang it," he exclaimed. "What bad luck! There is a fly waiting. It is
+never there when you want it."
+
+Mr. Bodery looked between the shafts.
+
+"You need not be afraid of that fly," he said.
+
+"No--come up, you brute!"
+
+Mr. Bodery turned carelessly to put his bag in the back of the cart.
+
+"Let him have it," he exclaimed in a low voice. "Your friend sees you,
+but he does not know that you have seen him. He is pointing you out to
+the station-master."
+
+As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard,
+nearly throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the
+whip-socket.
+
+"There," he said, "we are safe. I think I can manage that fly."
+
+Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby
+knees.
+
+"Now," he said, "tell me all about Vellacott."
+
+Sidney did so.
+
+He gave a full and minute description of events previous to Christian
+Vellacott's disappearance, omitting nothing. The relation was somewhat
+disjointed, somewhat vague in parts, and occasionally incoherent. The
+narrator repeated himself--hesitated--blurted out some totally
+irrelevant fact, and finished up with a vague supposition (possessing a
+solid basis of truth) expressed in doubtful English. It suited Mr.
+Bodery admirably. In telling all about Vellacott, Sidney unconsciously
+told all about Mrs. Carew, Molly, Hilda, and himself. When he reached
+the point in his narration telling how Vellacott had been attracted into
+the garden, he became extremely vague and his style notably colloquial.
+Tell the story how he would, he felt that he could not prevent Mr.
+Bodery from drawing his own inferences. Young ladies are not in the
+habit of whistling for youthful members of the opposite sex. Few of them
+master the labial art, which perhaps accounts for much. Sidney Carew was
+conscious that his style lacked grace and finish.
+
+Mr. Bodery did draw his own inferences, but the countenance into which
+Sidney glanced at intervals was one of intense stolidity.
+
+"Well, I confess I cannot make it out--at present," he said; "Vellacott
+has written to us only on business matters. We publish to-morrow a very
+good article of his purporting to be the dream of an overworked
+_attach�_. It is very cutting and very incriminating. The Government
+cannot well avoid taking some notice of it. My only hope is that he is
+in Paris. There is something brewing over there. Our Paris agent wired
+for Vellacott this morning. By the way, Mr. Carew, is there a monastery
+somewhere in this part of the country?"
+
+"Down that valley," replied Sidney, pointing with his whip.
+
+"In Vellacott's article there is mention of a monastery--not too
+minutely described, however. There are also some remarkable suppositions
+respecting an old foreigner living in seclusion. Could that be the man
+you mentioned just now--Signor Bruno?"
+
+"Hardly. Bruno is a harmless old soul," replied Sidney, pulling up to
+turn into the narrow gateway.
+
+There was no time to make further inquiries.
+
+Sidney led the way into the drawing-room. The ladies were there.
+
+"My mother, Mr. Bodery--my sister; my sister Hilda," he blurted out
+awkwardly.
+
+Mrs. Carew shook hands, and the two young ladies bowed. They were all
+disappointed in Mr. Bodery. He was too calm and comfortable--also there
+was a suggestion of cigar smoke in his presence, which jarred.
+
+"I am sorry," said the Londoner, with genial self-possession, "to owe
+the pleasure of this visit to such an unfortunate incident."
+
+Molly felt that she hated him.
+
+"Then you have heard nothing of Christian?" said Mrs. Carew.
+
+"Nothing," replied Mr. Bodery, removing his tight gloves. "But it is too
+soon to think of getting anxious yet. Vellacott is eminently capable of
+taking care of himself--he is, above all things, a journalist. Things
+are disturbed in Paris, and it is possible that he has run across
+there."
+
+Mrs. Carew smiled somewhat incredulously.
+
+"It was a singular time to start," observed Hilda quietly.
+
+Mr. Bodery turned and looked at her.
+
+"Master mind in _this_ house," he reflected.
+
+"Yes," he admitted aloud.
+
+He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The
+others watched him in silence.
+
+"Do you take sugar and cream?" inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the
+second time.
+
+"Please--both. In moderation."
+
+"I say," interrupted Sidney at this moment, "the Vicomte d'Audierne is
+following us in a fly. He will be here in five minutes."
+
+Mrs. Carew nodded. She had not forgotten this guest.
+
+"The Vicomte d'Audierne," said Mr. Bodery, with considerable interest,
+turning away from the tea-table, cup in hand. "Is that the man who got
+out of my train?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sidney; "do you know him?"
+
+"I have heard of him." Mr. Bodery turned and took a slice of bread and
+butter from a plate which Hilda held.
+
+At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels.
+
+"By the way," said the editor of the _Beacon_, raising his voice so as
+to command universal attention, "do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne
+about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do
+not tell him of my connection with the _Beacon_."
+
+The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
+Bodery when the door was thrown open, and a servant announced M.
+d'Audierne.
+
+He who entered immediately afterwards--with an almost indecent
+haste--was of middle height, with a certain intrepid carriage of the
+head which appeals to such as take pleasure in the strength and
+endurance of men. His face, which was clean shaven, was the face of a
+hawk, with the contracted myope vision characteristic of that bird. It
+is probable that from the threshold he took in every occupant of the
+room.
+
+"Mrs. Carew," he said in a pleasant voice, speaking almost faultless
+English, "after all these years. What a pleasure!"
+
+He shook hands, turning at the same time to the others.
+
+"And Sid," he said, "and Molly--wicked little Molly. Never mind--your
+antecedents are safe. I am silent as the grave."
+
+This was not strictly true. He was as deep, and deeper than the
+resting-place mentioned, but his method was superior to silence.
+
+"And Hilda," he continued, "thoughtful little Hilda, who was always too
+busy to be naughty. Not like Molly, eh?"
+
+"Heavens! How old it makes one feel!" he exclaimed, turning to Mrs.
+Carew.
+
+The lady laughed.
+
+"You are not changed, at all events," she said. "Allow me to introduce
+Mr. Bodery--the Vicomte d'Audierne."
+
+The two men bowed.
+
+"Much pleasure," said the Frenchman.
+
+Mr. Bodery bowed again in an insular manner, which just escaped
+awkwardness, and said nothing.
+
+Then Molly offered the new-comer some tea, and the party broke up into
+groups. But the Vicomte's personality in some subtle manner pervaded the
+room. Mr. Bodery lapsed into monosyllables and felt ponderous. Monsieur
+d'Audierne had it in his power to make most men feel ponderous when the
+spirit moved him in that direction.
+
+As soon as tea was finally disposed of Mrs. Carew proposed an
+adjournment to the garden. She was desirous of getting Mr. Bodery to
+herself.
+
+It fell to Hilda's lot to undertake the Frenchman. They had been great
+friends once, and she was quite ready to renew the pleasant
+relationship. She led her guest to the prettiest part of the garden--the
+old overgrown footpath around the moat.
+
+As soon as they had passed under the nut-trees into the open space at
+the edge of the water, the Vicomte d'Audierne stopped short and looked
+round him curiously. At the same time he gave a strange little laugh.
+
+"_Hein--hein--c'est dr�le_," he muttered, and the girl remembered that
+in the old friendship between the brilliant, middle-aged diplomatist and
+the little child they had always spoken French. She liked to hear him
+speak his own language, for in his lips it received full justice: it was
+the finest tongue spoken on this earth. But she did not feel disposed
+just then to humour him. She looked at him wonderingly as his deep eyes
+wandered over the scene.
+
+While they stood there, something--probably a kestrel--disturbed the
+rooks dwelling in the summits of the still elms across the moat, and
+they rose simultaneously in the air with long-drawn cries.
+
+"Ah! Ah--h!" said the Vicomte, with a singular smile.
+
+And then Hilda forgot her shyness.
+
+"What is it?" she inquired in the language she had always spoken to this
+man.
+
+He turned and walked beside her, suiting his steps to hers, for some
+moments before replying.
+
+"I was not here at all," he said at length, apologetically; "I was far
+away from you. It was impolite. I am sorry."
+
+He intended that she should laugh, and she did so softly. "Where were
+you?" she inquired, glancing at him beneath her golden lashes.
+
+Again he paused.
+
+"There is," he said at length, "an old _ch�teau_ in Morbihan--many
+miles from a railway--in the heart of a peaceful country. It has a moat
+like this--there are elms--there are rooks that swing up into the air
+like that and call--and one does not know why they do it, and what they
+are calling. Listen, little girl--they are calling something. What is
+it? I think I was _there_. It was impolite--I am sorry, Miss Carew."
+
+She laughed again sympathetically and without mirth; for she was meant
+to laugh.
+
+He looked back over his shoulder at times as if the calling of the rooks
+jarred upon his nerves.
+
+"I do not think I like them--" he said, "now."
+
+He was not apparently disposed to be loquacious as he had been at first.
+Possibly the rooks had brought about this change. Hilda also had her
+thoughts. At times she glanced at the water with a certain shrinking in
+her heart. She had not yet forgotten the moments she had passed at the
+edge of the moat the night before. They walked right round the moat and
+down a little pathway through the elm wood without speaking. The rooks
+had returned to their nests and only called to each other querulously at
+intervals.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, little girl," said the Vicomte d'Audierne
+suddenly, "to doubt the wisdom of the Creator's arrangements for our
+comfort, or otherwise, here below?"
+
+"I suppose not," he went on, without waiting for an answer, which she
+remembered as an old trick of his. "You are a woman--it is different for
+you."
+
+The girl said nothing. She may have thought differently; one cannot
+always read a maiden's thoughts.
+
+They walked on together. Suddenly the Vicomte d'Audierne spoke.
+
+"Who is this?" he said.
+
+Hilda followed the direction of his eyes.
+
+"That," she answered, "is Signor Bruno. An old Italian exile. A friend
+of ours."
+
+Bruno came forward, hat in hand, bowing and smiling in his charming way.
+
+Hilda introduced the two men, speaking in French.
+
+"I did not know," said Signor Bruno, with outspread hands, "that you
+spoke French like a Frenchwoman."
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+"Had it," she said, with a sudden inspiration, "been Italian, I should
+have told you."
+
+There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "learnt most of it from me. We are old
+friends."
+
+Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
+
+"Ah--but is that so?" he murmured conversationally.
+
+"Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me," replied the Vicomte
+carelessly.
+
+Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not imagine, little girl," replied d'Audierne, "that you could
+learn very much that is good from me."
+
+Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the
+nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor
+Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew
+and Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his
+handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a
+slight delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.
+
+Before the two foreigners came up with Hilda, who had walked on, Signor
+Bruno found time to say:
+
+"I must see you to-night, without fail; I am in a very difficult
+position. I have had to resort to strong measures."
+
+"Where?" inquired the Vicomte d'Audierne, with that pleasant nonchalance
+which is so aggravating to the People.
+
+"In the village, any time after nine; a yellow cottage near the well."
+
+"Good!"
+
+And they joined Hilda Carew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+FOES
+
+
+It is only when our feelings are imaginary that we analyse them. When
+the real thing comes--the thing that only does come to a few of us--we
+can only feel it, and there is no thought of analysis. Moreover, the
+action is purely involuntary. We feel strange things--such things as
+murder--and we cannot help feeling it. We may cringe and shrink; we may
+toss in our beds when we wake up with such thoughts living, moving,
+having their being in our brains--but we cannot toss them off. The very
+attempt to do so is a realisation, and from consciousness we spring to
+knowledge. We know that in our hearts we are thieves, murderers,
+slanderers; we know that if we read of such thoughts in a novel we
+should hold the thinker in all horror; but we are distinctly conscious
+all the time that these thoughts are our own. This is just the
+difference existing between artificial feelings and real: the one bears
+analysis, the other cannot.
+
+Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the
+arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of
+the little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with
+singular care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual,
+but all the while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda
+Carew. At certain moments she wondered with a throb of apprehension
+whether the difference which was so glaringly patent to herself could
+possibly be hidden from others. She caught strange inflections in her
+own voice which she knew had never been there before--her own laughter
+was a new thing to her. And yet she went on through dinner and until
+bedtime, acting this strange part without break, without fault--a part
+which had never been rehearsed and never learnt: a part which was
+utterly artificial and yet totally without art, for it came naturally.
+
+And through it all she feared the Vicomte d'Audierne. Mr. Bodery counted
+for nothing. He made a very good dinner, was genial and even witty in a
+manner befitting his years and station. Mrs. Carew was fully engaged
+with her guests, and Molly was on lively terms with the Vicomte; while
+Sidney, old Sidney--no one counted him. It was only the Vicomte who
+paused at intervals during his frugal meal, and looked across the table
+towards the young girl with those deep, impenetrable eyes--shadowless,
+gleamless, like velvet.
+
+When bedtime at length arrived, she was quite glad to get away from that
+kind, unobtrusive scrutiny of which she alone was aware. She went to her
+room, and sitting wearily on the bed she realised for the first time in
+her life the incapacity to think. It is a realisation which usually
+comes but once or twice in a lifetime, and we are therefore unable to
+get accustomed to it. She was conscious of intense pressure within her
+brain, of a hopeless weight upon her heart, but she could define
+neither. She rose at length, and mechanically went to bed like one in a
+trance. In the same way she fell asleep.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Bodery, Sidney Carew, and the Vicomte d'Audierne
+were smoking in the little room at the side of the porch. A single lamp
+with a red shade hung from the ceiling in the centre of this room,
+hardly giving enough light to read by. There were half-a-dozen deep
+armchairs, a divan, and two or three small tables--beyond that nothing.
+Sidney's father had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation
+of Oriental ways. It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but
+merely a smoking-room. Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and
+through the thin smoke he glanced persistently at the Vicomte
+d'Audierne. The Vicomte did not return this attention; he glanced at the
+clock instead. He was thinking of Signor Bruno, but he was too polite
+and too diplomatic to give way to restlessness.
+
+At last Mr. Bodery opened fire from, as it were, a masked battery; for
+he knew that the Frenchman was ignorant of his connection with one of
+the leading political papers of the day. It was a duel between sheer
+skill and confident foreknowledge. When Mr. Bodery spoke, Sidney Carew
+leant back in his chair and puffed vigorously at his briar pipe.
+
+"Things," said the Englishman, "seem to be very unsettled in France just
+now."
+
+The Vicomte was engaged in rolling a cigarette, and he finished the
+delicate operation before looking up with a grave smile.
+
+"Yes," he said. "In Paris. But Paris is not France. That fact is hardly
+realised in England, I think."
+
+"What," inquired Mr. Bodery, with that conversational heaviness of touch
+which is essentially British, "is the meaning of this disturbance?"
+
+Sidney Carew was enveloped in a perfect cloud of smoke.
+
+For a moment--and a moment only--the Vicomte's profound gaze rested on
+the Englishman's face. Mr. Bodery was evidently absorbed in the
+enjoyment of his cigar. The smile that lay on his genial face like a
+mask was the smile of a consciousness that he was making himself
+intensely pleasant, and adapting his conversation to his company in a
+quite phenomenal way.
+
+"Ah!" replied the Frenchman, with a neat little shrug of bewilderment.
+"Who can tell? Probably there is no meaning in it. There is so often no
+meaning in the action of a Parisian mob."
+
+"Many things without meaning are not without result."
+
+Again the Vicomte looked at Mr. Bodery, and again he was baffled.
+
+"You only asked me the meaning," he said lightly. "I am glad you did not
+inquire after the result; because there I should indeed have been at
+fault. I always argue to myself that it is useless to trouble one's
+brain about results. I leave such matters to the good God. He will
+probably do just as well without my assistance."
+
+"You are a philosopher," said Mr. Bodery, with a pleasant and friendly
+laugh.
+
+"Thank Heaven--yes! Look at my position. Fancy carrying in France to-day
+a name that is to be found in the most abridged history. One needs to be
+a philosopher, Mr. Bodery."
+
+"But," suggested the Englishman, "there may be changes. It may all come
+right."
+
+The Vicomte sipped his whisky and water with vicious emphasis.
+
+"If it began at once," he said, "it would never be right in my time. Not
+as it used to be. And in the meantime we are in the present--in the
+present France is governed by newspaper men."
+
+Sidney drew in his feet and coughed. Some of his smoke had gone astray.
+
+Mr. Bodery looked sympathetic.
+
+"Yes," he said calmly, "that really seems to be the case."
+
+"And newspaper men," pursued the Vicomte, "what are they? Men of no
+education, no position, no sense of honour. The great aim of politicians
+in France to-day is the aggrandisement of themselves."
+
+Mr. Bodery yawned.
+
+"Ah!" he said, with a glance towards Sidney.
+
+Perhaps the Frenchman saw the glance, perhaps he was deceived by the
+yawn. At all events, he rose and expressed a desire to retire to his
+room. He was tired, he said, having been travelling all the previous
+night.
+
+Mr. Bodery had not yet finished his cigar, so he rose and shook hands
+without displaying any intention of following the Vicomte's example.
+
+Sidney lighted a candle, one of many standing on a side table, and led
+the way upstairs. They walked through the long, dimly lighted corridors
+in silence, and it was only when they had arrived in the room set apart
+for the Vicomte d'Audierne that this gentleman spoke.
+
+"By the way," he said, "who is this person--this Mr. Bodery? He was not
+a friend of your father's." Sidney was lighting the tall candles that
+stood upon the dressing-table, and the combined illumination showed with
+remarkable distinctness the reflection of his face in the mirror. From
+whence he stood the Frenchman could see this reflection.
+
+"He is the friend of a great friend of mine; that is how we know him,"
+replied Sidney, prizing up the wick of a candle. He was still rising to
+the occasion--this dull young Briton. Then he turned. "Christian
+Vellacott," he said; "you knew his father?"
+
+"Ah, yes: I knew his father."
+
+Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any
+intention of being deterred.
+
+"His father," continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively,
+"was brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?"
+
+"I think so. Good night."
+
+"Good night."
+
+When the door was closed the Vicomte looked at his watch. It was almost
+midnight.
+
+"The Reverend Father Talma will have to wait till to-morrow morning," he
+said to himself. "I cannot go to him to-night. It would be too
+theatrical. That old gentleman is getting too old for his work."
+
+In the meantime, Sidney returned to the little smoking-room at the side
+of the porch. There he found Mr. Bodery smoking with his usual
+composure. The younger man forbore asking any questions. He poured out
+for himself some whisky, and opened a bottle of soda-water with
+deliberate care and noiselessness.
+
+"That man," said Mr. Bodery at length, "knows nothing about Vellacott."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I am convinced of it. By the way, who is the old gentleman who came to
+tea this afternoon?"
+
+"Signor Bruno, do you mean?"
+
+"I suppose so--that super-innocent old man with the white hair who wears
+window-glass spectacles."
+
+"Are they window-glass?" asked Sidney, with a little laugh.
+
+"They struck me as window-glass--quite flat. Who is he--beyond his name,
+I mean?"
+
+"He is an Italian refugee--lives in the village."
+
+Mr. Bodery had taken his silver pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and
+was rolling it backwards and forwards on the table. This was indicative
+of the fact that the editor of the _Beacon_ was thinking deeply.
+
+"Ah! And how long has he been here?"
+
+"Only a few weeks."
+
+Mr. Bodery looked up sharply.
+
+"Is _that_ all?" he inquired, with an eager little laugh.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then, my dear sir, Vellacott is right. That old man is at the bottom of
+it. This Vicomte d'Audierne, what do you know of him?"
+
+"Personally?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is an old friend of my father's. In fact, he is a friend of the
+family. He calls the girls by their Christian names, as you have heard
+to-night."
+
+"Yes; I noticed that. And he came here to-day merely on a friendly
+visit?"
+
+"That is all. Why do you ask?" inquired Sidney, who was getting rather
+puzzled.
+
+"I know nothing of him personally--except what I have learnt to-day. For
+my own part, I like him," answered Mr. Bodery. "He is keen and clever.
+Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman. But, politically speaking, he is
+one of the most dangerous men in France. He is a Jesuit, an active
+Royalist, and a staunch worker for the Church party. I don't know much
+about French politics--that is Vellacott's department. But I know that
+if he were here, and knew of the Vicomte's presence in England, he would
+be very much on the alert."
+
+"Then," asked Sidney, "do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here
+with the absence of Vellacott?"
+
+"There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly.
+Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a
+scoundrel."
+
+Sidney thought deeply.
+
+"He may be," he admitted.
+
+"I do not," pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, "think
+that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion."
+
+"He asked who you were--if you were a friend of my father's."
+
+"And you said--"
+
+"No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned
+Vellacott's name. He knew his father very well."
+
+"Were you"--asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and
+rising from his deep chair--"were you looking at the Vicomte when you
+answered the question?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And there was no sign of discomfort--no flicker of the eyelids, for
+instance?"
+
+"No; nothing."
+
+Mr. Bodery nodded his head in a businesslike way, indicative of the fact
+that he was engaged in assimilating a good deal of useful information.
+
+"There is nothing to be done to-night," he said presently, as he made a
+movement towards the door, "but to go to bed. To-morrow the _Beacon_
+will be published, and the result will probably be rather startling. We
+shall hear something before to-morrow afternoon."
+
+Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands.
+
+"By the way," said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly,
+"if any one should inquire--your mother or one of your sisters--you can
+say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A RETREAT
+
+
+It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left
+his room. As he walked along the still corridor and down the stairs it
+was noticeable that he made absolutely no sound, without, however,
+indulging in any of those contortions which are peculiar to late
+arrivals in church. It would seem that Nature had for purposes of her
+own made his footfall noiseless--if, by the way, Nature can be credited
+with any purpose whatever in her allotment of human gifts and failings.
+
+In the hall he found a stout cook armed for assault upon the front-door
+step.
+
+"Good morning," he said. "Can you tell me the breakfast-hour? I forgot
+to inquire last night."
+
+"Nine o'clock, sir," replied the servant, rather taken aback at the
+thought of having this visitor dependent upon her for entertainment
+during the next hour and a half.
+
+"Ah--and it is not yet eight. Never mind. I will go into the garden. I
+am fond of fruit before breakfast."
+
+He took his hat and lounged away towards the kitchen-garden which lay
+near the moat.
+
+"And now," he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way,
+"where is this pestilential village?"
+
+The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the
+Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where
+Signor Bruno was lodging.
+
+The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the
+door before the Vicomte reached it.
+
+He turned and led the way into a little room on the right hand of the
+narrow passage. A little room intensely typical: china dogs, knitted
+antimacassars of a brilliant tendency, and horse-hair covered furniture.
+There was even the usual stuffy odour as if the windows, half-hidden
+behind muslin curtains and scarlet geraniums, were never opened from one
+year's end to another.
+
+Signor Bruno closed the door before speaking. Then he turned upon his
+companion with something very like fury glittering in his eyes.
+
+"Why did you not come last night?" he asked. "I am left alone to contend
+against one difficulty on the top of another. Read that!"
+
+He drew from his pocket a thin and somewhat crumpled sheet of paper,
+upon which there were two columns of printed matter.
+
+"That," he said, "cost us two thousand francs." The Vicomte d'Audierne
+read the printed matter carefully from beginning to end. He had
+approached the window because the light was bad, and when he finished he
+looked up for a few minutes, out of the little casement, upon the quiet
+village scene.
+
+"The _Beacon_," he said, turning round, "what is that?"
+
+"A leading weekly newspaper."
+
+"Published--?
+
+"To-day," snapped Signor Bruno.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne made a little grimace.
+
+"Who wrote this?" he inquired.
+
+"Christian Vellacott, son of _the_ Vellacott, whom you knew in the old
+days."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was something in the Vicomte's expressive voice that made Signor
+Bruno look at him sharply with some apprehension.
+
+"Why do you say that?"
+
+The Vicomte countered with another question.
+
+"Who is this Mr. Bodery?"
+
+He gave a little jerk with his head in the direction of the house he had
+just left.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"I was told last night that he was a friend of this Christian
+Vellacott--a protector."
+
+The two Frenchmen looked at each other in silence. Signor Bruno was
+evidently alarmed--his lips were white and unsteady. There was a smile
+upon the bird-like face of the younger man, and behind his spectacles
+his eyes glittered with an excitement in which there was obviously no
+fear.
+
+"Do you know," he asked in a disagreeably soft manner, "where Christian
+Vellacott is?"
+
+Across the benevolent old face of Signor Bruno here came a very evil
+smile.
+
+"You will do better not to ask me that question," he replied, "unless
+you mean to run for it--as I do."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne looked at his companion in a curious way.
+
+"You had," he said, "at one time no rival as a man of action--"
+
+Signor Bruno shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I am a man of action still."
+
+The Vicomte folded the proof-sheet carefully, handed it back to his
+companion, and said:
+
+"Then I understand that--there will be no more of these very clever
+articles?"
+
+Bruno nodded his head.
+
+"I ask no questions," continued the other. "It is better so. I shall
+stay where I am for a few days, unless it grows too hot--unless I think
+it expedient to vanish."
+
+"You have courage?"
+
+"No; I have impertinence--that is all. There will be a storm--a
+newspaper storm. The embassies will be busy; in the English Parliament
+some pompous fool will ask a question, and be snubbed for his pains. In
+the _Chambre_ the newspaper men will rant and challenge each other in
+the corridors; and it will blow over. In the meantime we have got what
+we want, and we can hide it till we have need of it. Your Reverence and
+I have met difficulties together before this one."
+
+But Signor Bruno was not inclined to fall in with these optimistic
+views.
+
+"I am not so sure," he said, "that we have got what we want. There has
+been no acknowledgment of receipt of the last parcel--in the usual
+way--the English _Standard_."
+
+"What was the last parcel?"
+
+"Fifty thousand cartridges."
+
+"But they were sent?"
+
+"Yes; they were despatched in the usual way; but, as I say, they have
+not been acknowledged. There may have been some difficulty on the other
+side. Our police are not so easy-going as these coastguard gentlemen."
+
+"Well," said the aristocrat, with that semi-bantering lightness of
+manner which sometimes aggravated, and always puzzled, his colleagues,
+"we will not give ourselves trouble over that: the matter is out of our
+hands. Let us rather think of ourselves. Have you money?"
+
+"Yes--I have sufficient."
+
+"It is now eight o'clock--this newspaper--this precious _Beacon_ is now
+casting its light into some dark intellects in London. It will take
+those intellects two hours to assimilate the information, and one more
+hour to proceed to action. You have, therefore, three hours in which to
+make yourself scarce."
+
+"I have arranged that," replied the old man calmly. "There is a small
+French potato-ship lying at Exmouth. In two hours I shall be one of her
+crew."
+
+"That is well. And the others?"
+
+"The others left yesterday afternoon. They cross by this morning's boat
+from Southampton to Cherbourg. You see how much I have had to do."
+
+"I see also, my friend, how well you have done it."
+
+"And now," said Signor Bruno, ignoring the compliment, "I must go. We
+will walk away by the back garden across the fields. You must remember
+that you may have been seen coming here."
+
+"I have thought of that. One old man saw me, but he did not look at me
+twice. He will not know me again. And your landlady--where is she?"
+
+"I have sent her out on a fool's errand."
+
+As they spoke they left the little cottage by the back door, as Signor
+Bruno had proposed, through the little garden, and across some low-lying
+fields. Presently they parted, Signor Bruno turning to the left, while
+the Vicomte d'Audierne kept to the right.
+
+"We shall meet, I suppose," were the last words of the younger man, "in
+the Rue St. Gingolphe?"
+
+"Yes--in the Rue St. Gingolphe."
+
+For so old a man the pace at which Signor Bruno breasted the hill that
+lay before him was somewhat remarkable. The Vicomte d'Audierne, on the
+other hand, was evidently blessed with a greater leisure. He looked at
+his watch and strolled on through the dew-laden meadows, wrapt in
+thought as in a cloak that hid the sweet freshness of the flowery
+hedgerows, that muffled the broken song of the busy birds, that killed
+the scent of ripening hay. Thus these two singular men parted--and it
+happened that they were never to meet again. These little things _do_
+happen. We meet with gravity; we part with a smile; perhaps we make an
+appointment; possibly we speak of the pleasure that the meeting seems to
+promise: and the next meeting is put off; it belongs to the great
+postponement.
+
+Often we part with an indifferent nod, as these two men parted amidst
+the sylvan peace of English meadow on that summer morning. They belonged
+to two different stations in life almost as far apart as two social
+stations could be, even in a republic. They were not, in any sense of
+the word, friends; they were merely partners, intensely awake, as
+partners usually are, to each other's shortcomings.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne probably thought no more of Signor Bruno from the
+moment that he raised his hat and turned. A few moments later his
+thoughts were evidently far away.
+
+"The son of Vellacott," he muttered, as he took a cigarette from a neat
+silver case. "How strange! And yet I am sorry. He might have done
+something in the world. That article was clever--very clever--curse it!
+He cannot yet be thirty. But one would expect something from the son of
+a man like Vellacott."
+
+It was not yet nine o'clock when the Vicomte entered the dining-room by
+the open window. Only Hilda was there, and she was busy with the old
+leather post-bag. Among the letters there were several newspapers, and
+the Vicomte d'Audierne's expression underwent a slight change on
+perceiving them. His thin, mobile lips were closely pressed, and his
+chin--a very short one--was thrust forward. Behind the gentle spectacles
+his eyes assumed for a moment that singular blinking look which cannot
+be described in English, for it seemed to change their colour. In his
+country it would have been called _glauque_.
+
+"Ah, Hilda!" he said, approaching slowly, "do I see newspapers? I love a
+newspaper!"
+
+She handed him the _Times_ enveloped in a yellow wrapper, upon which was
+printed her brother's name and address.
+
+"Ah," he said lightly, "the _Times_--estimable, but just a trifle
+opaque. Is that all?"
+
+His eyes were fixed upon two packets she held in her hand.
+
+"These are Mr. Bodery's," she replied, looking at him with some
+concentration.
+
+"And what newspaper does Mr. Bodery read?" asked the Frenchman, holding
+out his hand.
+
+She hesitated for a moment. His position with regard to her was
+singular, his ascendency over her had never been tried. It was an
+unknown quantity; but the Vicomte d'Audierne knew his own power.
+
+"Let me look, little girl," he said quietly in French.
+
+She handed him the newspapers, still watching his face.
+
+"The _Beacon_," he muttered, reading aloud from the ornamented wrapper,
+"a weekly journal."
+
+He threw the papers down and returned to the _Times_, which he unfolded.
+
+"Tell me, Hilda," he said, "is Mr. Bodery connected with this weekly
+journal, the _Beacon?_"
+
+Her back was turned towards him. She was hanging up the key of the
+post-bag on a nail beside the fireplace.
+
+"Yes," she replied, without looking round.
+
+"Is he the editor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne turned the _Times_ carelessly.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered, "the phylloxera has appeared again."
+
+For some time he appeared to be absorbed in this piece of news, then he
+spoke again.
+
+"I knew something of a man who writes for that newspaper--the _Beacon_.
+I knew his father very well."
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Vicomte glanced at her.
+
+"Christian Vellacott," he said.
+
+"We know him also," she answered, moving towards the bell. He made a
+step forward as if about to offer to ring the bell for her, but she was
+too quick.
+
+When the butler entered the room, Hilda reminded him of some small
+omission in setting out the breakfast-table. The item required was in
+the room, and the man set it upon the table with some decision and a
+slightly aggrieved cast of countenance.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne raised his eyes, and then he looked very grave.
+He was a singular man in many ways, but those who worked with him were
+aware of one peculiarity which by its prominence cast others into the
+shade. He possessed a very useful gift rarely given to men--the gift of
+intuition. It was dangerous to _think_ when the eyes of the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were upon one's face. He had a knack of knowing one's
+thoughts before they were even formulated. He looked grave--almost
+distressed--on this occasion, because he knew something of which Hilda
+herself was ignorant. He knew that she was engaged to be married to one
+man while she loved another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+AN EMPTY NEST
+
+
+In the middle of breakfast a card was handed to Sidney Carew. He glanced
+at it, nodded his head as a signal to the servant that he need not wait,
+and slipped the card into his pocket. Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were watching him.
+
+Presently he rose from the table and left the room. Mrs. Carew became
+suddenly lively, and the meal went on unconcernedly. It was not long
+before Sidney came back.
+
+"Do you want," he said to his mother, "some tickets for a concert at
+Brayport on the 4th of next month?"
+
+"What sort of a concert?"
+
+Sidney consulted the tickets.
+
+"In aid," he read, "of an orphanage--the Police Orphanage."
+
+"We always take six tickets," put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to
+seek her pocket.
+
+"Mr. Bodery," said Sidney, at this moment, "you have nothing to eat. Let
+me cut you some ham."
+
+He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
+
+"I prefer to carve it myself," he replied, proceeding to do so.
+
+Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was
+talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+"The London police are here already," whispered Sidney; "shall I say
+anything about Vellacott?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
+
+"I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now."
+
+"Right," replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
+
+Sidney left the room again, and the Vicomte d'Audierne detected the
+quick, anxious glance directed by Hilda at his retreating form. A few
+minutes later young Carew rode away from the house in company with two
+men, while a fourth horseman followed closely.
+
+He who rode on Sidney's left hand was a tall, grizzled man, with the
+bearing of a soldier, while his second companion was fair and gentle in
+manner. The soldier was Captain Pharland, District Inspector of Police;
+the civilian was the keenest detective in London.
+
+"Of course," said this man, who sat his hired horse with perfect
+confidence. "Of course we are too late, I know that."
+
+He spoke softly and somewhat slowly; his manner was essentially that of
+a man accustomed to the entire attention of his hearers.
+
+"The old Italian," he continued, "who went under the name of Signor
+Bruno, disappeared this morning. It is just possible that he will
+succeed in getting out of the country. It all depends upon who he is."
+
+"Who do you suppose he is?" asked Captain Pharland. He was an upright
+old British soldier, and felt ill at ease in the society of his
+celebrated _confr�re_.
+
+"I don't know," was the frank reply; "you see this is not a criminal
+affair, it is entirely political; it is hardly in my line of country."
+
+They rode on in silence for a space of time, during which Captain
+Pharland lighted a cigar and offered one to his companions. Sidney
+accepted, but the gentleman from London refused quietly, and without
+explanation. It was he who spoke first.
+
+"Mr. Carew," he said, "can you tell me when this monastery was first
+instituted at Porton Abbey?"
+
+"Last autumn."
+
+The thin flaxen eyebrows went up very high, until they were lost to
+sight beneath the hat brim.
+
+"Did they--ah--deal with the local tradesmen?"
+
+"No," replied Sidney, "I think not. They received all their stores by
+train from London."
+
+"And you have never seen any of the monks?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+The fair-haired gentleman gave a little upward jerk of the head and
+smiled quietly for his own satisfaction.
+
+He did not speak again until the cavalcade reached Porton Abbey. The old
+place looked very peaceful in the morning light, standing grimly in the
+midst of that soft lush grass which only grows over old habitations.
+
+One side of the long, low building was in good repair, while the other
+half had been allowed to crumble away. The narrow Norman windows had
+been framed with unpainted wood and cheap glass. The broad doorway had
+been partly filled in with unseasoned deal, and an inexpensive door had
+been fitted up.
+
+The bell-knob was of brass, new and glaring in the morning sun. The
+gentleman from London, having alighted, took gently hold of this and
+rang. A faint tinkle rewarded him. It was the peculiar sound of a bell
+ringing in an empty house. After a moment's pause he wrenched the bell
+nearly out of its socket, and a long peal was the result. At last this
+ceased, and there was no sound in the house. The fair man looked back
+over his shoulder at Captain Pharland.
+
+"Gone!" he said tersely.
+
+Then he took from his breast pocket a little bar in the shape of a
+lever. He introduced the bent end of this between the door and the post,
+just above the keyhole, and gave a sharp jerk. There was a short crack
+like that made by the snapping of cast iron, and the door flew open.
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the man went in, followed closely by
+Sidney and Captain Pharland.
+
+The birds had flown. As mysteriously as they had come, the devotees had
+vanished. Bare walls met the eyes of the searchers. Porton Abbey stood
+empty again after its brief return to life and warmth, and indeed it
+scarcely looked habitable. The few personal effects of the simple monks
+had been removed; the walls and stone floors were rigidly clean; the
+small chapel showed signs of recent repair. There was an altar-cloth, a
+crucifix, and two brass candlesticks.
+
+The gentleman from London noted these items with a cynical smile. He had
+instinctively removed his hat; it is just possible that there was
+another side to this man's life--a side wherein he dealt with men who
+were not openly villains. He may have been a churchwarden at home.
+
+"Clever beggars!" he ejaculated, "they were ready for every emergency."
+
+Captain Pharland pointed to the altar with his heavy riding-whip.
+
+"Then," he said, "you think this all humbug?"
+
+"I do. They were no more monks than we are."
+
+The search did not last much longer. Only a few rooms had been
+inhabited, and there was absolutely nothing left--no shred of evidence,
+no clue whatever.
+
+"Yes," said the fair-haired man, when they had finished their
+inspection, "these were exceptional men; they knew their business."
+
+As they left the house he paused, and closed the door again, remaining
+inside.
+
+"You see," he said, "there is not even a bolt on the door. They knew
+better than to depend on bolts and bars. They knew a trick worth two of
+that."
+
+At the gate they met a small, inoffensive man, with a brown beard and a
+walking-stick. There was nothing else to say about him; without the
+beard and the walking-stick there would have been nothing left to know
+him by.
+
+"That is my assistant," announced the London detective quietly. "He has
+been down to the cliff."
+
+The two men stepped aside together, and consulted in an undertone for
+some time. Then the last speaker returned to Captain Pharland and
+Sidney, who were standing together.
+
+"That newspaper," he said, "the _Beacon_, is word for word right. My
+assistant has been to the spot. The arms and ammunition have undoubtedly
+been shipped from this place. The cases of cartridges mentioned by the
+man who wrote the article as having been seen, in a dream, half-way down
+the cliff, are actually there; my assistant has seen them."
+
+Captain Pharland scratched his honest cavalry head. He was beginning to
+regret that he had accepted the post of district inspector of the
+police. Sidney Carew puffed at his pipe in silence.
+
+"Of course," said the detective, "the newspaper man got all this
+information through the treachery of one of the party. I should like to
+get hold of that traitor. He would be a useful man to know."
+
+In this the astute gentleman from London betrayed his extremely limited
+knowledge of the Society of Jesus. There are no traitors in that vast
+corporation.
+
+Sidney and Captain Pharland rode home together, leaving the two
+detectives to find their way to Brayport Station.
+
+They rode in silence, for the Captain was puzzled, and his companion was
+intensely anxious.
+
+Sidney Carew was beginning to realise that the events of the last three
+days had a graver import than they at first promised to conceal. The now
+celebrated article in the _Beacon_ opened his eyes, and he knew that the
+writer of it must have paid very dearly for his daring. It seemed
+extremely probable that the head and hands which had conceived and
+carried out this singular feat were both still for ever. Vellacott's own
+written tribute to the vast powers of the Jesuits, and their immovable
+habit of forcing a way through all obstacles to the end in view, was
+scarcely reassuring to his friends.
+
+Sidney knew and recognised the usual fertility of resource possessed by
+his friend; but against him were pitted men of greater gifts, of less
+scruple, and of infinitely superior training in the crooked ways of
+humanity. That he should have been so long without vouchsafing word or
+sign was almost proof positive that his absence was involuntary; and men
+capable of placing fire-arms into the hands of a maddened mob were not
+likely to hesitate in sacrificing a single life that chanced to stand in
+their path.
+
+As the young fellow rode along, immersed in meditation, he heard the
+sound of carriage-wheels, and, looking up, recognised his own grey horse
+and dog-cart. Mr. Bodery was driving, and driving hard. On seeing Sidney
+he pulled up, somewhat recklessly, in a manner which suggested that he
+had not always been a stout, middle-aged Londoner.
+
+"Been telegraphed for," he shouted, "by the people at the office.
+Government is taking it up. Just time to catch the train."
+
+And the editor of the _Beacon_ disappeared in a cloud of dust.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne was thus left in full possession of the field.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+FOUL PLAY
+
+
+When Christian Vellacott passed out of the drawing-room window in answer
+to what he naturally supposed to be a signal-whistle from Hilda or
+Sidney, he turned down the narrow, winding pathway that led to the moat.
+The extreme darkness, contrasting suddenly with the warm light of the
+room he had just left, caused him to walk slowly with outstretched
+hands. Floating cobwebs broke across his face, and frequently he stopped
+to brush the clinging fibre away. The intense darkness was somewhat
+relieved when he reached the edge of the moat, and the clear sky was
+overhead instead of interlocked branches. He could just discern that
+Hilda was not at her usual seat upon the rustic bench farther towards
+the end of the moat, and he stopped short, with a sudden misgiving, at
+the spot where the path met, at right angles, the broader stone walk
+extending the full length of the water.
+
+He was on the point of whistling softly the familiar refrain, when there
+was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A rush, a sudden shock, and a
+pair of muscular hands were closed round his throat, dragging him
+backwards. But Christian stood like a rock. Quick as thought he seized
+the two wrists, which were small and flat, and wrenched them apart.
+Then, stepping back with one foot in order to obtain surer leverage, he
+lifted his assailant from the ground, swung him round, and literally let
+him fly into the moat--with a devout hope that it might be Signor Bruno.
+The man hurtled through the darkness, without a cry or sound, and fell
+face foremost into the water, five yards from the edge, throwing into
+the air a shower of spray.
+
+Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than
+their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of
+endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly
+developed. The exertion of lifting his assailant and swinging him away
+into the darkness was great, although the man's weight was nothing very
+formidable, and Christian staggered back a few paces without, however,
+actually losing his balance. At this moment two men sprang upon him from
+behind and dragged him to the ground. He felt at once that this was a
+very different matter. Either of these two could have overpowered him
+singly. Their thick arms encompassed him like the coils of a snake, and
+there was about their heavy woollen clothing a faint odour of salt
+water. He knew that they were sailors. Recognising that it was of no
+avail, he still fought on, as Englishmen do. One of the men had wound a
+large woollen scarf round his mouth, the other was slowly but very
+surely succeeding in pinioning his arms. Then a third assailant came,
+and Christian knew by the wet hand (for he used one arm only) that it
+was the smallest of the three, who had suffered for his temerity.
+
+"Quick, quick!" this man whispered in French. With his uninjured hand he
+twisted the scarf tighter and tighter until Christian gasped for breath.
+
+Still the Englishman struggled and writhed upon the ground, while the
+hard breathing of the two sailors testified that it was no mean
+resistance. Suddenly the one-armed man loosened the scarf, but before
+Christian could recover his breath a handkerchief was pressed over his
+lips, and a sweet, pungent odour filled his nostrils.
+
+"Three to one," he gasped, and quite suddenly his head fell forward,
+while his clutch relaxed.
+
+"He is a brave man," said the dripping leader of the attack, as he stood
+upright and touched his damaged shoulder gently and tentatively. "Now
+quick to the carriage with him. You have not managed this well, my
+friends, not at all well."
+
+The speaker raised his cold hand to his forehead, which was wet, less
+perhaps from past exertion than from the agony he was enduring.
+
+"But, monsieur," grumbled one of the sailors in humble self-defence, "he
+is made of steel!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pale light of a grey dawn was stealing slowly up into the riven sky,
+lighting up the clouds which were flying eastward on the shoulder of a
+boisterous wind. The heavy grey sea, heaving, surging, and hissing,
+threw itself upwards into broken spray, which flew to leeward at a sharp
+angle, blown from the summit of the wave like froth from an over-filled
+tankard. After a night of squally restlessness, accompanied by a driving
+rain that tasted brackish, things had settled down with the dawn into a
+steady, roaring gale of wind. In the growing light sea-gulls rose
+triumphantly with smooth breasts bravely facing the wind.
+
+In the midst of this a dripping vessel laboured sorely. The green water
+rushed from side to side over her slippery, filthy deck as she rolled,
+and carried with it a tangled mass of ropes, a wooden bucket, a capstan
+bar, and--ominous sign--a soaking, limp fur cap. The huge boom, reaching
+nearly the whole length of the little vessel, swung wildly from side to
+side as the yawl dipped her bulwarks to the receding wave. It was
+certain death for a man to attempt to stand upright upon the sopping
+deck, for the huge spar swung shoulder high. The steersman, crouching
+low by his strong tiller, was doing his best to avoid a clean sweep, but
+only a small jib and the mizzen were standing with straining clews and
+gleaming seams. Crouching beneath the weather bulwarks, with their feet
+wedged against the low combing of the hatch, three men were vainly
+endeavouring to secure the boom, and to disentangle the clogged ropes.
+Two were huge fellows with tawny, washed-out beards innocent of brush or
+comb, their faces were half hidden by rough sou'-westers, and they were
+enveloped from head to foot in oilskins from which the water ran in
+little rills. The third was Christian Vellacott, who looked very wet
+indeed. The water was dripping from his cuffs and running down his face.
+His black dress-clothes were clinging to him with a soppy hindrance,
+while the feet firmly planted against the combing of the hatch were
+encased in immaculate patent-leather shoes, and the salt water ran off
+silk socks. It would have been very funny if it were not that Fortune
+invariably mingles her strokes of humour most heedlessly with sadder
+things. Christian Vellacott was apparently unconscious of the humour of
+the situation. He was working patiently and steadily, as men must needs
+work when fighting Nature, and his half-forgotten sea-craft was already
+coming back. Beneath his steady hands something akin to order was slowly
+being achieved; he was coiling and disentangling the treacherous rope,
+of which the breaking had cast the boom adrift, laying low a good
+seaman.
+
+Farther forward upon the hatch lay the limp body of a very big man. His
+matted head was bare, and the dead, brown face, turned upward to its
+Maker, jerked from side to side as the vessel heaved. The stalwart legs
+were encased in greasy sea-boots, deeply wrinkled, and the coils of a
+huge scarf of faded purple lay upon his broad breast, where they had
+been dragged down by a hasty hand in order to see more clearly the still
+features.
+
+At the dead man's side knelt upon the deck a small, spare figure clad in
+black and wearing his left arm in a sling. With his right hand he held a
+crucifix to the blue lips that would never breathe a prayer to the
+Virgin again. The small mouth and refined features of the praying man
+were strangely out of keeping with his tempestuous surroundings.
+Unmindful, however, of wind and waves alike, he knelt and prayed
+audibly. Each lurch of the vessel threw him forward, so that, in order
+to save himself from falling, he was obliged to press heavily upon the
+dead man's throat and breast; but this he heeded not. His girlish blue
+eyes were half closed in an ecstasy of religious fervour, and the pale,
+narrow face wore a light that was not reflected from sea or sky. This
+was the man who had unhesitatingly attacked Vellacott, had dared to pit
+his small strength, more of nerve than of muscle, against the young
+Englishman's hardened sinews. Violence in itself was most abhorrent to
+him; it had no part in his nature; and consequently, by the strange
+tenets of Ignatius Loyola's disciples, he was condemned to a course of
+it. Any objectionable duty, such as this removal of Vellacott, was
+immediately assigned to him in the futile endeavour of subjecting the
+soul to the brain. A true Jesuit must have no nature of his own and no
+individuality. He is simply a machine, with likes and dislikes,
+conscience and soul subject to the will of his superior, whose mind is
+also under the same arbitrary control; and so on to the top. If at the
+head there were God, it would be well; but man is there, and consequently
+the whole society is a gigantic mistake. To be a sincere member of it, a
+man must be a half-witted fool, a religious fanatic, or a rogue for whom
+no duplicity is too scurrilous, even though it amount to blasphemy.
+
+Ren� Drucquer, the man kneeling on the slimy deck, was as nearly a
+religious fanatic as his soft, sweet nature would allow. With greater
+bodily strength and attendant greater passions, he would have been a
+simple monomaniac. In him the passion for self-devotion was singularly
+strong, and contact with men had cooled it down into an unusually deep
+sense of duty.
+
+Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of
+self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more
+akin to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where
+the devil drags most people, and Ren� Drucquer was not by any means the
+first man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly
+misled by a blind devotion to duty.
+
+When throwing himself upon Christian Vellacott, no thought of possible
+danger to his own person had restrained or caused him a moment's
+hesitation. His blind faith in the righteousness of his cause was,
+however, on the wane. This disciple of St. Ignatius might have lived a
+true and manly life three hundred years earlier when his master trod the
+earth, but the march of intellect had trodden down the "Constitutions"
+years before Ren� Drucquer came to study them. An ignoramus and a zealot
+who lived nearly four centuries ago can be no guide or help to men of
+the present day, and this young priest was overshadowed by the saddest
+doubt that comes to men on earth--the doubt of his own Creed.
+
+While Christian Vellacott was assisting the sailors he glanced
+occasionally towards the kneeling priest, and on the narrow, intelligent
+face he read a truth that never was forgotten. He saw that Ren� Drucquer
+was unconscious of his surroundings--unmindful of the fact that he was
+on board a disabled vessel at the mercy of the wild wind. His whole
+being was absorbed in prayer: this priest remembered only that the soul
+of the great, rough, disfigured man was winging its serene way to the
+land where no clouds are. Christian was not an impressionable
+man--journalism had killed all that--nor, it is to be feared, did he
+devote much thought to religion; but he recognised goodness when he met
+it. The young journalist's interest was aroused, and in that trifling
+incident lay the salvation of the priest. From that small beginning came
+the gleam of light that was to illuminate gloriously the darkness of a
+mistaken life.
+
+Chance had capriciously ruled that the hand that had dislocated the
+Abb�'s arm should set it again, and the dead sailor lying on the sticky,
+tarred hatch-cover had helped. The "patron" of the boat, for he it was
+whose head had been smashed by the spar, had held the priest's
+trembling, swollen shoulder while Christian's steady hands gave the
+painful jerk required to slip the joint back into its socket. The great,
+coarse lips which had trembled a little, with a true Frenchman's
+sympathy for suffering, were now blue and drawn; the stout, tender hands
+were nerveless.
+
+The priest prayed on, while the men worked near at hand seeking to
+restore order, and to repair the damages made by sea and wind. They had
+got over their sullen, native shyness on finding that Christian could
+speak French like the Abb� and was almost as good a sailor as
+themselves. One offered him a rough blue jersey, while another placed a
+gold-embroidered Sunday waistcoat at his disposal, with a visible
+struggle between kindness of heart and economy. The first was accepted,
+but the waistcoat was given back with a kind laugh and an assurance that
+the jersey was sufficient.
+
+The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any
+ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abb�
+Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor,
+and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter,
+he rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute.
+The authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had
+sworn to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his
+Master.
+
+At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the
+mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
+
+Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
+
+"Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the
+dead to lie there in this wind and storm."
+
+"I am willing," answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the
+dead man lay.
+
+"Then, perhaps--Monsieur," began the Breton with some hesitation.
+
+"Yes," answered Christian encouragingly, "what is it?"
+
+"Perhaps Monsieur will speak to--to the Abb�. It is that we do not like
+to disturb him in prayer."
+
+The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
+
+"I will do so," he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and
+touched Ren� Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the
+touch had been repeated.
+
+"Yes," he murmured; "yes. What do you want?"
+
+Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could
+not hear them.
+
+"Is it not better to take him below?" he shouted.
+
+Then for the first time did the priest appear to remember that this was
+not one of the sailors.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, rising from his knees. "You are right; it
+is better. But I am afraid the men will not assist me. They are afraid
+of touching the dead when they are afloat."
+
+"I will help you," said Christian simply, "and that man also, I think,
+because he proposed it."
+
+With a motion of the head he indicated Hoel Grall, upon whom the command
+of the little vessel had now devolved. The man was better educated than
+his companions, and spoke French fluently, but in the Breton character
+superstition is so deeply rooted that generations of education will
+scarcely eradicate it.
+
+The priest looked into the Englishman's face with a gentle wonder in his
+eyes, which were shadowy with the fervour of his recent devotions. The
+two men were crouching low upon the deck, grasping the black rail with
+their left hands; the water washed backwards and forwards around their
+feet.
+
+It was the first time they had seen each other face to face in open
+daylight, and their eyes met quietly and searchingly as they swayed from
+side to side with the heavy lurching of the ship. The Englishman spoke
+first.
+
+"You must leave it to us," he said calmly. "You could do nothing in this
+heavy sea with your one arm!"
+
+The gentle blue eyes were again filled with wonder, and presently the
+priest's intellectual face relaxed into a shadowy smile, which did not
+affect his thin red lips.
+
+"You are very good," he murmured simply.
+
+Christian did not hear this remark. He had turned away to call Grall
+towards him, and was about to move towards the body lying on the hatch,
+when the priest called him back.
+
+"Monsieur," he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me," continued Ren� Drucquer quickly, as if in doubt, "are you
+Christian Vellacott?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+The priest looked relieved, and at the same time he appeared to be
+making an effort to restrain himself, as if he had been betrayed into a
+greater show of feeling than was desirable. When he at length spoke in
+reply to the Englishman's obvious desire for some explanation of the
+strange question, his voice was singularly cold, and modulated in such a
+manner as to deprive it of any expression, while his eyes were fixed on
+the deck.
+
+"You are not such as I expected," he said.
+
+Christian looked down at him with straightforward keenness, and he saw
+the priest's eyelids move uneasily beneath his gaze. Mixing with many
+men as he had done, he had acquired a certain mental sureness of touch,
+like that of an artist with his brush when he has handled many subjects
+and many effects. He divined that Ren� Drucquer had been led to expect a
+violent, head strong man, and he could not restrain a smile as he turned
+away. Before going, however, he said:
+
+"At present it is a matter of saving the ship, and our lives. My own
+affairs can wait, but when this gale is over you may rest assured they
+shall have my attention."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+WINGED
+
+
+Beyond this one allusion to their respective positions, Christian was
+silent regarding his captivity. After the gale subsided the weather took
+a turn for the better, and clear skies by day and night rendered
+navigation an easy matter.
+
+With characteristic daring the young Englishman had decided to offer no
+resistance and to seize no opportunities of escape until the termination
+of the voyage. The scheme half-formed within his mind was to see the
+voyage through, and effect his escape soon after landing in France. It
+was not without a certain adventurous fascination, and in the meantime
+there was much to interest him in his surroundings. If this young Abb�
+was a typical member of the Society of Jesus, he was worth studying. If
+this simplicity was an acquired cloak to deeper thought, it was worth
+penetrating, and if the man's entire individuality had been submerged in
+the mysterious system followed in the College of Jesuits, it was no
+waste of time to seek for the real man beneath the cultivated suavity
+that hid all feeling.
+
+The more the two young men saw of each other the closer grew their
+intimacy, and with growing intimacy the domination of the stronger
+individuality was more marked in its influence.
+
+To the frail and nervous priest this young Englishman was a new
+experience; his vitality and calm, straightforward manner of speech were
+such as the Abb� had never met with before. Such men and better men
+there were and are in the Society of Jesus, otherwise the power of the
+great Order would not be what it is; but Ren� Drucquer had never come in
+contact with them. According to the wonderful code of laws laid down by
+its great founder (who, in other circumstances, might have prepared the
+world for the coming of such a man as Napoleon the First), the education
+of the young is entrusted to such brethren as are of slower parts; and
+from these honest, but by no means intelligent, men the young Abb� had
+learnt his views upon mankind in general. The creed they taught without
+understanding it themselves was that no man must give way to natural
+impulses; that he must restrain and quell and quench himself into a
+machine, without individuality or impulse, without likes or dislikes;
+that he must persistently perform such duties as are abhorrent to him,
+eat such food as nauseates him, and submit to the dictates of such men
+as hate him. And these, forsooth, are the teachings of one who, in his
+zealous shortsightedness, claims to have received his inspiration direct
+from the lips of the Great Teacher.
+
+Ren� Drucquer found himself in the intimate society of a man who said
+what he thought, acted as he conceived best, and held himself
+responsible, for word or deed, to none on earth. It was his first
+mission after a long and rigorous training. This was the first enemy of
+the Holy Church against whom he had been sent to fight, armed with the
+immeasurable power of the greatest brotherhood the world has ever known,
+protected by the shadow of its blessing; and there was creeping into the
+young priest's heart a vague and terrible suspicion that there might be
+two sides to the question. All the careful years of training, all the
+invisible meshes of the vast net that had been gathering its folds round
+him since he had first donned the dress of a Probationer of the College
+of Jesuits, were powerless to restrain the flight of a pure and
+guileless heart to the height of truth. Despite the countless one-sided
+and ingenious arguments instilled into his eager young mind in guise of
+mental armour against the dangers of the world, Ren� Drucquer found
+himself, at the very first contact with the world, unconvinced that he
+was fighting upon the righteous side.
+
+Brest had been left behind in a shimmering blue haze. Ahead lay the grim
+Pointe de Raz, with its short, thick-set lighthouse facing the vast
+Atlantic. Out to sea, in the fading glory of sunset, lay the long, low
+Ile-de-Sein, while here and there black rocks peeped above the water.
+The man holding the tiller was a sardine fisher, to whom every rock,
+every ripple, of these troubled waters was familiar. Fearlessly he
+guided the yawl close round by the high cliff--the westernmost point of
+Europe--but with the sunset the wind had dropped and the sails hung
+loosely, while the broad bows glided onwards with no sound of parted
+water.
+
+The long Atlantic roll was swinging lazily in, and the yawl rose to it
+sleepily, with a long, slow movement. The distant roar of the surf upon
+the Finisterre coast rose in the peaceful atmosphere like a lullaby. The
+holy calm of sunset, the hush of lowering night, and the presence of the
+only man who had ever drawn him with the strange, unaccountable bond
+that we call sympathy, moved the heart of the young priest as it had
+never been moved before by anything but religious fervour.
+
+For the first time he spoke of himself. The solitary heart suddenly
+broke through the restraining influence of a mistaken education, and
+unfolded its sad story of a misread existence. Through no fault of his
+own, by no relaxation of supervising care on the part of his teachers,
+the Jesuit had run headlong into the very danger which his Superior had
+endeavoured to avoid. He had formed a friendship. Fortunately the friend
+was a _man_, otherwise Ren� Drucquer were lost indeed.
+
+"I should think," he said musingly, "that no two lives have ever been so
+widely separated as yours and mine, and yet our paths have met!"
+
+Vellacott took the cigarette from his lips. It was made of a vile
+tobacco, called "Petit Caporal," but there was nothing better to be had,
+and he was in the habit of making the best of everything. Therefore he
+blew into the air a spiral column of thin blue smoke with a certain
+sense of enjoyment before replying. He also was looking across the
+glassy expanse of water, but his gaze was steady and thoughtful, while
+his companion's eyes were dreamy and almost vacant. The light shone full
+upon his face, and a physician--or a mother--would have noticed,
+perhaps, that there was beneath his eyes a dull shadow, while his lips
+were dry and somewhat drawn.
+
+"Yes," he said at length, with grave sympathy, "we have drifted together
+like two logs in a torrent."
+
+The young priest changed his position, drawing in one leg and clasping
+his hands round his knee. The movement caused his long black garment to
+fall aside, displaying the dark purple stockings and rough shoes. The
+hands clasped round his knee were long and white, with peculiarly flat
+wrists.
+
+"One log," he said vaguely, "was bound for a certain goal, the other was
+drifting."
+
+Vellacott turned slowly and glanced at his companion's face. The smoke
+from the bad cigarette drifted past their heads to windward. He was not
+sure whether the priest was speaking from a professional point of view,
+with reference to heresy and the unknown goal to which all heretics are
+drifting, or not. Had Ren� Drucquer been a good Jesuit, he would have
+seen his opportunity of saying a word in season. But this estimable
+desire found no place in his heart just then.
+
+"Your life," he continued in a monotone, "is already mapped out--like
+the voyage of a ship traced across a chart. Is it not so? I have
+imagined it like that."
+
+Vellacott continued to smoke for some moments in silence. He sat with
+his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail,
+and his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in
+his pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his
+motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for
+he spoke at once with a smile on his face.
+
+"I think it is best," he said, "not to think too much about it. From
+what experience I have had, I have come to the humiliating conclusion
+that men have very little to do with the formation of their own lives. A
+ship-captain may sit down and mark his course across the chart with the
+greatest accuracy, the most profound knowledge of wind and current, and
+the keenest foresight; but that will have very little effect upon the
+actual voyage."
+
+"But," argued the priest in a low voice, "is it not better to have an
+end in view--to have a certain aim, and a method, more or less formed,
+of attaining it?"
+
+"Most men have that," answered Christian, "but do not know that they
+have it!"
+
+"_You_ have?"
+
+Christian smoked meditatively. A month ago he would have said "Yes"
+without a moment's hesitation.
+
+"And you know it, I think," added the priest slowly. He was perfectly
+innocent of any desire to extract details of his companion's life from
+unwilling lips, and Christian knew it. He was convinced that, whatever
+part Ren� Drucquer had attempted to play in the past, he was sincere at
+that moment, and he divined that the young Jesuit was weakly giving way
+to a sudden desire to speak to some fellow-being of his own life--to lay
+aside the strict reserve demanded by the tenets of the Society to which
+he was irrevocably bound. In his superficial way, Christian Vellacott
+had studied men as well as letters, and he was not ignorant of the
+influence exercised over the human mind by such trifling circumstances
+as moonshine upon placid water, distant music, the solemn hush of
+eventide, or the subtle odour of a beloved flower. If Ren� Drucquer was
+on the point of committing a great mistake, he at least would not urge
+him on towards it, so he smoked in silence, looking practical and
+unsympathetic.
+
+The priest laughed a little short, deprecating laugh, in which there was
+no shadow of mirth.
+
+"I have not," he said, rubbing his slim hands together, palm to palm,
+slowly, "and--I know it."
+
+"It will come," suggested the Englishman, after a pause.
+
+The priest shook his head with a little smile, which was infinitely
+sadder than tears. His cold silence was worse than an outburst of grief;
+it was like the keen frost that comes before snow, harder to bear than
+the snow itself. Presently he moved slightly towards his companion so
+that their arms were touching, and in his soft modulated voice, trained
+to conceal emotion, he told his story.
+
+"My friend," he said, intertwining his fingers, which were very
+restless, "no man can be the worse for hearing the story of another
+man's life. Before you judge of me, listen to what my life has been. I
+have never known a friend or relation. I have never had a boy companion.
+Since the age of thirteen, when I was placed under the care of the holy
+fathers, I have never spoken to a woman. I have been taught that life
+was given us to be spent in prayer; to study, to train ourselves, and to
+follow in the footsteps of the blessed Saint Ignatius. But how are we
+who have only lived half a life, to imitate him, whose youth and
+middle-age were passed in one of the most vicious courts of Europe
+before he thought of turning to holy things? How are we, who are buried
+in an atmosphere of mystic religion, to cope with sin of which we know
+nothing, and when we are profoundly ignorant of its evil results? These
+things I know now, but I did not suspect them when I was in the college.
+There all manliness, and all sense of manly honour, were suppressed and
+insidiously forbidden. We were taught to be spies upon each other, to
+cringe servilely to our superiors, and to deal treacherously with such
+as were beneath us. Hypocrisy--innate, unfathomable hypocrisy--was
+instilled into our minds so cunningly that we did not recognise it.
+Every movement of the head or hands, every glance of the eyes, and every
+word from the lips was to be the outcome--not of our own hearts--but of
+a law laid down by the General himself. It simply comes to this: we are
+not men at all, but machines carefully planned and fitted together, so
+as to render sin almost an impossibility. When tempted to sin we are
+held back, not by the fear of God, but by the thought that discovery is
+almost certain, and that the wrath of our Superior is withheld by no
+scruple of human kindness.... But remember, I knew nothing of this
+before I took my vows. To me it was a glorious career. I became an
+enthusiast. At last the time came when I was eligible; I offered myself
+to the Society, and was accepted. Then followed a period of hard work; I
+learned Spanish and Italian, giving myself body and soul to the work.
+Even the spies set to watch me day and night, waking and sleeping,
+feeding and fasting, could but confess that I was sincere. One day the
+Provincial sent for me--my mission had come. I was at last to go forth
+into the world to do the work of my Master. Trembling with eagerness, I
+went to his room; the Provincial was a young man with a beautiful face,
+but it was like the face of the dead. There was no colour, no life, no
+soul, no heart in it. He spoke in a low, measured voice that had neither
+pity nor love.
+
+"When that door closed behind me an hour later the scales had fallen
+from my eyes. I began to suspect that this great edifice, built not of
+stones but of men's hearts, was nothing less than an unrighteous
+mockery. With subtle, double-meaning words, the man whom I had been
+taught to revere as the authorised representative of Our Lord, unfolded
+to me my duties in the future. The work of God, he called it; and to do
+this work he placed in my hands the tools of the devil. What I suspected
+then, I know now."
+
+The young Englishman sat and listened with increasing interest. His
+cigarette had gone out long before.
+
+"And," he said presently, in his quiet, reassuring voice, which seemed
+to infer that no difficulty in life was quite insurmountable--"And, if
+you did not know it then, how have you learnt it now?"
+
+"From you, my friend," replied the priest earnestly, "from you and from
+these rough sailors. They, at least, are men. But you have taught me
+this."
+
+Christian Vellacott made no answer. He knew that what his companion said
+was true. Unconsciously, and with no desire to do so, he had opened this
+young zealot's eyes to what a man's life may be. The tale was infinitely
+sad, but with characteristic promptitude the journalist was already
+seeking a remedy without stopping to think over the pathos of this
+mistaken career.
+
+Presently Ren� Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again,
+and he continued his story.
+
+"He told me," he said, "that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman
+Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and
+queens' boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is
+as firm as ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent. It lies like
+a huge mill, perfect but idle, waiting for the grist that will never
+come to be crushed between its ruthless wheels. He told me that the sway
+over kings and princes has lapsed with the growth of education, but that
+we hold still within our hands a lever of greater power, though the
+danger of wielding it is proportionately greater to those who would use
+it. This power is the People. Before us lies a course infinitely more
+perilous than the sinuous paths trodden by the first followers of St.
+Ignatius as they advanced towards power. It lies on the troubled waters;
+it leads over the restless, mobile heads of the people."
+
+Again the priest ceased speaking. There was a strange thrill of
+foreboding in his voice, which, however, had never been raised above a
+monotone. The two men sat side by side, as still as the dead. They gazed
+vacantly into the golden gates of the west, and each in his own way
+thought over these things. Assuredly the Angel of Silence hung over that
+little vessel then, for no sound from earth or sea or sky came to wake
+those two thinkers from their reverie.
+
+At last the Englishman's full, steady tones broke the hush.
+
+"This," he said, "has not been learnt in two days. You must have known
+it before. If you knew it, why are you what you are? You never have been
+a real Jesuit, and you never will be."
+
+"I swore to the Mother of God--I am bound...."
+
+"By an oath forced upon you!"
+
+"No! By an oath I myself begged to take!"
+
+This was the bitterest drop in the priest's cup. Everything had been
+done of his own free will--at his own desire. During eleven years a
+network of perfidy had been cunningly woven around him, mesh after mesh,
+day after day. As he grew older, so grew in strength the warp of the
+net. Thus, in the fulness of time, everything culminated to the one
+great end in view. Nothing was demanded (for that is an essential rule),
+everything must be offered freely, to be met by an apparently hesitating
+acceptance. Constant dropping wears the hardest stone in time.
+
+"But," said Vellacott, "you can surely represent to your Provincial that
+you are not fitted for the work put before you."
+
+"My friend," interrupted the priest, "we can represent nothing. We are
+supposed to have no natural inclinations. All work should be welcome,
+none too difficult, no task irksome."
+
+"You can volunteer for certain services," said Vellacott.
+
+The priest shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"What services?" he asked.
+
+The Englishman looked at him for some seconds in the fading light. In
+his quick way he had already found a remedy, and he was wondering
+whether he should propose it or hold his peace. He was not afraid of
+incurring responsibility. The young Jesuit had appealed to him, and
+there was a way out of the difficulty. Christian felt that things could
+not be made worse than they were. In a moment his mind was made up.
+
+"As you know," he said, "the Society has few friends and a multitude of
+enemies. I am afraid I am an enemy; but there is one redeeming point in
+the Jesuit record which we are all bound to recognise, and I recognise
+it unhesitatingly. You have done more to convert the heathen than the
+rest of the Christian Church put together. Whatever the motive has been,
+whatever the results have proved to be, the missionary work is
+unrivalled. Why do you not offer yourself for that?"
+
+As he asked the question Christian glanced at his companion's face. He
+saw the sad eyes light up suddenly with a glow that was not of this dull
+earth at all; he saw the thin, pure face suddenly acquire a great and
+wondrous peace. The young priest rose to his feet, and, crossing the
+deck, he stood holding with one hand to the tarred rigging, his back
+turned towards the Englishman, looking over the still waters.
+
+Presently he returned, and laying his thin hand upon Christian's
+shoulder, he said, "My friend, you have saved me. In the first shock of
+my disillusion I never thought of this. I think--I think there is work
+for me yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+
+
+With the morning tide, the _Deux Fr�res_ entered Audierne harbour.
+The rough sailors crossed themselves as they looked towards the old
+wooden cross upon the headland, facing the great Atlantic. They thought
+of the dead "patron" in the little cabin below, and the joyous young
+wife, whose snowy head-dress they could almost distinguish upon the pier
+among the waiters there.
+
+Both Christian Vellacott and the Abb� were on deck. They had been there
+the whole night. They had lain motionless side by side upon the old
+sail. Day vanished, night stole on, and day came again without either
+having closed his eyes or opened his lips.
+
+They now stood near the steersman, and looked upon the land with an
+interest which only comes after heavy weather at sea. To the Englishman
+this little fishing-port was unknown, and he did not care to ask. The
+vessel was now dropping up the river, with anchor swinging, and the
+women on the pier were walking inland slowly, keeping pace and waving a
+greeting from time to time in answer to a husband's shout.
+
+"That is she, Monsieur L'Abb�," said Hoel Grall, with a peculiar twitch
+of his coarse mouth, as if from pain. "That is she with the little
+child!"
+
+Ren� Drucquer bowed his head, saying nothing. The _Deux Fr�res_
+slowly edged alongside the old quay in her usual berth above the sardine
+boats. A board was thrown across from the rail to the quay, and the
+priest stepped ashore alone. He went towards the smiling young wife
+without any hesitation; she stood there surrounded by the wives of the
+sailors on board the _Deux Fr�res_, with her snowy coiffe and
+spotless apron, holding her golden-haired child by the hand. All the
+women curtsied as the priest approached, for in these western provinces
+the Church is still respected.
+
+"My daughter," said the Abb�, "I have bad news for you."
+
+She smiled still, misunderstanding his calmness.
+
+"Ah, mon p�re," she said, "it is the season of the great winds now. What
+a long voyage it has been! And you say it is a bad one. My husband is no
+doubt in despair, but another voyage is sure to be better; is it not so?
+I have not seen Loic upon the deck, but then my sight is not good. I am
+not from Audierne, mon p�re, but from inland where we cannot see so
+far."
+
+The priest changed colour; no smile came into his face in response to
+hers. He stepped nearer, and placed his hand upon her comely arm.
+
+"It has been a very bad voyage for your poor husband," he said. "The
+Holy Virgin give you comfort."
+
+Slowly the colour vanished from the woman's round checks. Her soft,
+short-sighted eyes filled with a terrible, hopeless dismay as she stared
+at the young priest's bowed head. The women round now began to
+understand, and they crossed themselves with a very human prayer of
+thankfulness that their husbands and brothers had been spared.
+
+"Loic is dead?" she said, in a rasping voice. For some moments she stood
+motionless, then, in obedience to some strange and unaccountable
+instinct, she began turning up the sleeves of her rough brown dress, as
+if she were going to begin some kind of manual work.
+
+"The Holy Virgin comfort you, my daughter; and you, my little one," said
+the priest, as he stooped to lay his hand upon the golden head of the
+child.
+
+"Loic is dead! Loic is dead!" spread from mouth to mouth.
+
+"That comes from having ought to do with the priests," muttered the
+customs officer, beneath his heavy moustache. He was an old soldier, who
+read the newspapers, and spoke in a loud voice on Sunday evenings in the
+Caf� de l'Ouest.
+
+The Abb� heard the remark, and looked at the man, but said nothing. He
+remembered that no Jesuit must defend himself.
+
+The girl-widow stepped on board the untidy vessel in a mechanical,
+dreamy way. She dragged the little trotting child almost roughly after
+her. Christian Vellacott stood at the low cabin door. He was in the
+dress of a Probationer of the Society of Jesus, which he had assumed at
+the request, hesitatingly made, of Ren� Drucquer, and for the very
+practical reason that he had nothing else to wear except a torn
+dress-coat and Hoel Grall's Sunday garments.
+
+"Bless me, mon p�re," lisped the little one, stopping in front of him.
+
+"Much good will a blessing of mine do you, little one," he muttered in
+English. Nevertheless, he lifted the child up and kissed her rosy cheek.
+He kept her by his side, letting the mother go to her dead husband
+alone.
+
+When the woman came from the cabin half-an-hour later, hard-faced, and
+with dry, stony eyes, she found the child sitting on Christian's knee,
+prattling away in broken French. Tears came to her aching eyes at the
+sight of the happy, fatherless child; the hard Breton heart was touched
+at last.
+
+The Abb�'s instructions were to keep his prisoner confined under lock
+and key in the cabin until nightfall, when he was to be removed inland
+in a carriage under the surveillance of two lay-brethren. Christian,
+however, never for a moment doubted his ability to escape when he wished
+to do so, and acting upon this conviction he volunteered a promise not
+to attempt evasion. Dressed as he was, in the garments of a probationer,
+there was no necessity of awaiting nightfall, as there was nothing
+unusual about him to attract attention. Accordingly the departure from
+the _Deux Fr�res_ was fixed for midday. In the meantime the young
+Englishman found himself the object of unremitting attention on the part
+of two smooth-faced individuals who looked like domestic servants. These
+two men had come on board at the same moment that the Abb� stepped
+ashore, and Christian noticed that no word of greeting or recognition
+passed between them and Ren� Drucquer. This was to him a further proof
+of the minuteness of organisation which has characterised the Order
+since Ignatius Loyola wrote down his wonderful "Constitutions," in which
+no trifle was too small to be unworthy of attention, no petty dramatic
+effect devoid of significance. Each man appeared to have received his
+instructions separately, and with no regard to those of his companion.
+
+In the meantime, however, the journalist had not been wasting his time.
+Although he still looked upon the whole affair as a very good farce, he
+had not forgotten the fact that his absence must necessarily have been
+causing endless anxiety in England. During the long night of wakefulness
+he had turned over in his mind every possible event at St. Mary Western
+since his sudden disappearance. Again and again he found himself
+wondering how they would all take it, and his conclusions were
+remarkably near to the truth. He guessed that Mr. Bodery would, sooner
+or later, be called in to give his opinion, and he sincerely hoped that
+the course taken would be the waiting tactics which had actually been
+proposed by the editor of the _Beacon_.
+
+In this hope he determined to communicate with Sidney Carew, and having
+possessed himself of a blank Customs Declaration Form, he proceeded to
+write a letter upon the reverse side of it. In this he told his friend
+to have no anxiety, and, above all, to institute no manner of search,
+because he would return to England as soon as his investigations were
+complete. The letter was written in guarded language, because Christian
+had arrived at the conclusion that the only means he had of despatching
+it was through the hands of Ren� Drucquer. The crew of the _Deux
+Fr�res_ were not now allowed to speak with him. He possessed no
+money, and it would have been folly to attempt posting an unstamped
+letter addressed to England in a little place like Audierne.
+
+Accordingly, as they were preparing to leave the vessel (the care of
+poor Loic having been handed over to the village cur�), Christian boldly
+tendered his request.
+
+"No, my friend, I cannot do it," replied the Abb� promptly.
+
+"Read it yourself," urged Christian. "No harm can possibly come of it.
+My friend will do exactly as I tell him. In fact, it will be to your
+benefit that it should go."
+
+Still the Jesuit shook his head. Suddenly, however, in the midst of an
+argument on the part of the Englishman, he gave in and took the letter.
+
+"Give it to me," he said; "I will risk it."
+
+Christian watched him place the letter within the breast of his
+"soutane," unread. The two lay-brethren were noting every movement.
+
+Presently the priest removed his broad-brimmed hat and passed through
+the little doorway into the dimly lighted cabin where the dead sailor
+lay. He left the door ajar. After glancing at the dead man's still face
+he fell upon his knees by the side of the low bunk, and remained with
+bowed head for some moments. At last he rose to his feet and took the
+Englishman's letter from his breast. The envelope was unclosed, and with
+smooth, deliberate touch he opened the letter and read it by the light
+of the candle at the dead man's head, of which the rays were to
+illuminate the wandering soul upon its tortuous way. The priest read
+each word slowly and carefully, for his knowledge of English was
+limited. Then he stood for some seconds motionless, with arms hanging
+straight, staring at the flame of the candle with weary, wondering eyes.
+At last he raised his hand and held the flimsy paper in the flame of the
+candle till it was all burnt away. The charred remains fluttered to the
+ground, and one wavering flake of carbonised paper sank gently upon the
+dead man's throat, laid bare by the hand of his frenzied wife.
+
+"He said that I was not a Jesuit," murmured the priest, as he burnt the
+envelope, and across his pale face there flitted an unearthly smile.
+
+Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when
+Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the
+rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and
+then turned to leave the ship.
+
+The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed
+that the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne
+were on the box. Ren� Drucquer and himself were invited to enter the
+roomy vehicle, and by the way in which the door shut he divined that it
+was locked by a spring.
+
+At the village post-office the carriage stopped, and, one of the
+servants having opened the door, the priest descended and passed into
+the little bureau. He said nothing about the letter addressed to Sidney
+Carew, but Christian took for granted that it would be posted. Instead
+of this, however, the priest wrote a telegram announcing the arrival of
+the _Deux Fr�res_, which he addressed to "Morel et Fils, Merchants,
+Quimper."
+
+"Hoel Grall asked me to despatch this," he said quietly, as he handed
+the paper to the old postmaster.
+
+After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus
+they travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two
+strangely contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances
+of which the links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott
+did not appear to chafe against his confinement. He took absolutely no
+notice of the two men whose duty it was to watch his every movement. The
+spirit of adventure, which is not quite educated out of us Englishmen
+yet, was very strong in him, and the rapid movement through an unknown
+land to an unknown goal was not without its healthy fascination. He lay
+back in the comfortable carriage and sleepily watched the flying
+landscape. Withal he noticed by the position of the sun the direction in
+which he was being taken, and despite many turns and twists he kept his
+bearings fairly well. The carriage had left the high road soon after
+crossing the bridge above Audierne, and was now going somewhat heavily
+over inferior thoroughfares.
+
+The sun had set before Vellacott awoke to find that they were still
+lumbering on. He had, of course, lost all bearing now, but he soon found
+that they had been journeying eastward since leaving the coast.
+
+A halt was made for refreshment at a small hillside village which
+appeared to be mainly inhabited by women, for the men were all sailors.
+The accommodation was of the poorest, but bread was procurable, and
+eggs, meat being an unknown luxury in the community.
+
+In the lowering light they journeyed on again, sometimes on the broad
+post-road, sometimes through cool and sombre forests. Many times when
+Christian spoke kindly, or performed some little act of consideration,
+the poor Abb� was on the point of disclosing his own treason. Before his
+eyes was the vision of that little cabin. He saw again the dancing flame
+of the paper in his hand, throwing its moving light upon the marble
+features of that silent witness as the charred fragments fluttered past
+the still face to the ground. But as the stone is worn by the dropping
+water, so at last is man's better nature overcome by persistent
+undermining when the work is carried out by men chosen as possessing "a
+mind self-possessed and tranquil, delicate in its perceptions, sure in
+its intuitions, and capable of a wide comprehension of various
+subjects." What youthful nature could be strong enough to resist the
+cunning pressure of influences wielded thus? So Ren� Drucquer carried
+the secret in his heart until circumstances rendered it unimportant.
+
+Man is, after all, only fallible, and those to whom is given the
+privilege of accepting or refusing candidates for admission to the great
+Society of Jesus had made a fatal error in taking Ren� Drucquer. Never
+was a man more unfitted to do his duty in that station of life in which
+he was placed. His religious enthusiasm stopped short of fanaticism; his
+pliability would not bend so low as duplicity. All this the young
+journalist learnt as he penetrated further into the sensitive depths of
+his companion's gentle temperament. The priest was of those men to whom
+love and brotherly affection are as necessary as the air they breathe.
+His wavering instincts were capable of being hardened into convictions;
+his natural gifts (and they were many) could be raised into talents; his
+life, in fact, could have been made a success by one influence--the love
+of a woman--the one influence that was forbidden: the single human
+acquirement that must for ever be beyond the priest's reach. This
+Christian Vellacott felt in a vague, uncertain way. He did not know very
+much about love and its influence upon a man's character, these
+questions never having come under his journalistic field of inquiry; but
+he had lately begun to wonder whether man's life was given to him to be
+influenced by no other thoughts than those in his own brain--whether
+there is not in our existence a completing area in the development of
+character.
+
+Looking at the matter from his own personal point of view--from whence
+even the best of us look upon most things--he was of the opinion that
+love stands in the path of the majority of men. This had been his view
+of the matter for many years; probably it was the reflection of his
+father's cynically outspoken opinion, and a well-grown idea is hard to
+uproot.
+
+Brought up, as he had been, by a pleasure-seeking and somewhat cynical
+man, and passing from his care into the busy and practical journalistic
+world, it was only natural that he should have acquired a certain
+hardness of judgment which, though useful in the world, is not an
+amiable quality. He now felt the presence of a dawning charity towards
+the actions of his fellow-men. A month earlier he would have despised
+Ren� Drucquer as a weak and incapable man; now there was in his heart
+only pity for the young priest.
+
+Soon after darkness had settled over the country the carriage descended
+into a deep and narrow valley through which ran a rapid river of no
+great breadth. Here the driver stopped, and the two travellers descended
+from the vehicle. The priest exchanged a few words in a low voice with
+one of the servants who had leapt down from the box, and then turning to
+Vellacott he said in a curt manner--
+
+"Follow me, please."
+
+The Englishman obeyed, and leaving the road they turned along a broad
+pathway running at the side of the water. Christian noticed that they
+were going upstream. Presently they reached a cottage, and a woman came
+from the open doorway at their approach. Without any greeting or word of
+welcome she led the way down some wooden steps to the ferry-boat. As she
+rowed them across, the journalist took note of everything in his quick,
+keen way. The depth of the water, rapidity of current, and even the fact
+that the boat woman was not paid for her services.
+
+"Are we near our destination?" he asked in English when he saw this.
+
+"We have five minutes more," replied the priest in the same language.
+
+On landing, they followed another small path for some distance,
+down-stream. It was a quiet moss-grown path, with poplar trees on either
+side, and appeared to be little used. Suddenly the young priest stopped.
+There was the trunk of an elm tree lying on the inside of the path,
+evidently cut for the purpose of making a rough seat.
+
+"Let us sit here a few minutes," said Ren�.
+
+Christian obeyed. He sat forward and stretched his long legs out.
+
+"I am aching all over," he said impatiently; "I wonder what it means!"
+
+The priest ignored the remark entirely.
+
+"My friend," he said presently, "a few minutes more and my care of you
+ceases. This journey will be over. For me it has been very eventful. In
+these few days I have learnt more than I did during all the long years
+of my education, and what I have learnt will never be forgotten. Without
+breathing one word of religion you have taught me to respect yours;
+without uttering a single complaint you have made me think with horror
+and shame of the part I have played in this affair. I dare ... scarcely
+hope that one day you will forgive me!"
+
+Christian raised his hand slowly to his forehead. The gleam of the
+sleek, smooth water flowing past his feet made him giddy. He wondered
+vaguely if the strange, dull feeling that was creeping over his senses
+was the result of extreme fatigue.
+
+"You speak as if we were never going to meet again," he said dreamily.
+
+The priest did not answer for some moments. His slim hands were tightly
+clasped upon his knees.
+
+"It is probable," he said at length, "that such will be the case. If our
+friendship is discovered it is certain!"
+
+"Then our friendship must not be discovered," said the practical
+Englishman.
+
+"But, my friend, that would be deceit--duplicity!"
+
+"A little duplicity, more or less, cannot matter much," replied
+Christian, in a harder voice.
+
+The priest looked up sharply, half fearing that his own treachery in the
+matter of the letter was suspected. But his companion remained silent,
+and the darkness prevented the expression of his face from being seen.
+
+"And," continued the Englishman, after a long pause, "I am to be left
+here?"
+
+There was a peculiar ring of weary indifference in his tone, as if it
+mattered little where he was left. The priest noticed it and remembered
+it later.
+
+"I know nothing, my friend. I have but to obey my orders."
+
+"And close your mind against thought?"
+
+"I cannot prevent the thoughts from coming into my mind," replied the
+priest gently, "but I can keep them prisoners when they have entered."
+
+He rose suddenly, and led the way along the river bank. Had Christian's
+manner been more encouraging he would have told him then and there about
+the letter.
+
+As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose
+from behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one
+of the lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to
+Ren� Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after
+quitting the carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and
+unsuspected. He came, however, too late. Unconsciously, Christian had
+saved his companion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+GREEK AND GREEK
+
+
+When they had walked about a hundred yards farther on, the footpath was
+brought to a sudden termination by a house built across it to the
+water's edge. In this lay the explanation of its scanty use and
+luxuriant growth of moss.
+
+It was not a dark night, and without difficulty the priest found the
+handle of a bell, of which, however, no sound reached their ears. The
+door, cut deep in the stone, was opened after a short delay by a lay
+brother who showed no signs of rigid fasting. Again Christian noticed
+that no greeting was exchanged, no word of explanation offered or
+expected. The lay brother led the way along a dimly lighted corridor, in
+which there were doors upon each side at regular intervals. There was a
+chill and stony feeling in the atmosphere.
+
+At the end of the corridor a gleam of light shone through a half-open
+door upon the bare stone floor. Into this cell Christian was shown.
+Without even noticing whether the priest followed him or not, he entered
+the tiny room and threw himself wearily upon the bed. Although it was an
+intensely hot night he shivered a little, and as he lay he clasped his
+head with either hand. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and the colour
+had entirely left his cheeks, though his lips were red and moist. He
+took no notice of his surroundings, which, though simple and somewhat
+bare, were not devoid of comfort.
+
+In the meantime, Ren� Drucquer had followed the door-keeper up a broad
+flight of stairs to a second corridor which was identical with that
+below, except that a room took the place of this small entrance-lobby
+and broad door. Thus the windows of this room were immediately above the
+river, which rendered them entirely free from overlookers, as the land
+on the opposite side was low and devoid of trees.
+
+The lay brother stopped in front of the door of this apartment, and
+allowed the young priest to pass him and knock at the door with his own
+hands. The response from within was uttered in such a low tone that if
+he had not been listening most attentively Ren� would not have heard it.
+He opened the door, which creaked a little on its hinges, and passed
+into the room alone.
+
+In front of him a man dressed in a black soutane was seated at a table
+placed before the window. The only lamp in the room, which was long and
+narrow, stood on the table before him, so that the light of it was
+reflected from his sleek black head disfigured by a tiny tonsure. As
+Ren� Drucquer advanced up the room, the occupant raised his head
+slightly, but made no attempt to turn round. With a quick, unobtrusive
+movement of his large white hand he moved the papers on the table before
+him, so that no written matter remained exposed to view. Upon the table
+were several books, and on the right-hand side of the plain inkstand
+stood a beautifully carved stone crucifix, while upon the left there was
+a small mirror no larger than a carte-de-visite. This was placed at a
+slight angle upon a tiny wire easel, and by raising his eyes any person
+seated at the table could at once see what was passing in the room
+behind him--the entire apartment, including the door, being reflected in
+the mirror.
+
+Though seated, the occupant of this peculiarly constructed room was
+evidently tall. His shoulders, though narrow, were very square, and in
+any other garment than a thin soutane his slightness of build would
+scarcely have been noticeable. His head was of singular and remarkable
+shape. Very narrow from temple to temple, it was quite level from the
+summit of the high forehead to the spot where the tonsure gleamed
+whitely, and the length of the skull from front to back was abnormal.
+The dullest observer could not have failed to recognise that there was
+something extraordinary in such a head, either for good or evil.
+
+The Abb� Drucquer advanced across the bare stone floor, and took his
+stand at the left side of the table, within a yard of his Provincial's
+elbow. Before taking any notice of him, the Provincial opened a thick
+book bound in dark morocco leather, of which the leaves were of white
+unruled paper, interleaved, like a diary, with blotting paper. The pages
+were numbered, although there was, apparently, no index attached to the
+volume. After a moment's thought, the tall man turned to a certain folio
+which was partially covered by a fine handwriting in short paragraphs.
+Then for the first time he looked up.
+
+"Good evening," he said, in full melodious voice. As he raised his face
+the light of the lamp fell directly upon it. There was evidently no
+desire to conceal any passing expression by the stale old method of a
+shaded lamp. The face was worthy of the head. Clean-cut, calm, and
+dignified; it was singularly fascinating, not only by reason of its
+beauty, which was undeniable, but owing to the calm, almost superhuman
+power that lay in the gaze of the velvety eyes. There was no keenness of
+expression, no quickness of glance, and no seeking after effect by
+mobility of lash or lid. When he raised his eyes, the lower lid was
+elevated simultaneously, which peculiarity, concealing the white around
+the pupil, imparted an uncomfortable sense of inscrutability. There was
+no expression beyond a vague sense of velvety depth, such as is felt
+upon gazing for some space of time down a deep well.
+
+"Good evening," replied Ren� Drucquer, meeting with some hesitation the
+slow, kindly glance.
+
+The Provincial leant forward and took from the tray of the inkstand a
+quill pen. With the point of it he followed the lines written in the
+book before him.
+
+"I understand," he said, in a modulated and business-like tone, "that
+you have been entirely successful?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes
+once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in
+the same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the
+book, he returned to the written notes.
+
+"You left," he continued, "on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening
+you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you
+arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part
+has been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with
+all expedition. So--" here the Provincial raised the pen from the book
+with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost
+imperceptibly, "so--you have been entirely successful?"
+
+Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in
+which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood
+motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same
+kind, even voice:
+
+"What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?"
+
+"The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a
+rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast."
+
+"Ah! I am sorry. Had you time--were you enabled to administer to him the
+Holy Rites?"
+
+"No, my father. He was killed at one blow."
+
+The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested
+steadily on the book in front of him.
+
+"Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!" he asked
+indifferently.
+
+"I think not," was the reply. "I endeavoured to prevent such effect
+arising, and--and in this the Englishman helped me greatly."
+
+Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young
+priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching
+his slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his
+black soutane.
+
+"My son," he said smoothly. "As you know, I am a great advocate for
+frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I
+have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar
+treatment. It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory
+respecting your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with
+this Englishman. Is it not so?"
+
+Ren� Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his
+hands one over the other.
+
+"He is not such as I expected," he replied after a pause.
+
+"No," said the Provincial meditatively. "They are a strange race. Some
+of them are strong--very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish;
+and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not
+so?"
+
+"Yes, I think he is very intelligent."
+
+"Was he violent or abusive?"
+
+"No; he was calm and almost indifferent."
+
+For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand
+in the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window
+at the end of the table.
+
+"Take a seat, my son," he said, "I have yet many questions to ask you. I
+am afraid I forgot that you might be tired."
+
+"Now tell me," he continued, when Ren� had seated himself, "do you think
+this indifference was assumed by way of disarming suspicion and for the
+purpose of effecting a speedy escape?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Did you converse together to any extent?"
+
+"We were naturally thrown together a great deal; especially after the
+death of the 'patron.' He was of great assistance to me and to Hoel
+Grall, the second in command, by reason of his knowledge of seamanship."
+
+"Ah! He is expert in such matters?"
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+A further note was here added to the partially-filled page of the
+manuscript book.
+
+"Of what subjects did he speak? Of religion, our Order, politics,
+himself and his captivity?"
+
+"Of none of those."
+
+The Provincial leant back suddenly in his chair, and for some minutes
+complete silence reigned in the room. He was evidently thinking deeply,
+and his eyes were fixed upon the open book with inscrutable immobility.
+Once he glanced slowly towards Ren� Drucquer, who sat with downcast eyes
+and interlocked fingers. Then he pressed back his elbows and inhaled a
+deep breath, as if weary of sitting in one position.
+
+"I have met Englishmen," he said speculatively, "of a type similar--I
+think--to this man. They never spoke of religion, of themselves or of
+their own opinion; and yet they were not silent men. Upon most subjects
+they could converse intelligently, and upon some with brilliancy; but
+these subjects were invariably treated in a strictly general sense. Such
+men _never_ argue, and never appear to be highly interested in that
+of which they happen to be speaking.... They make excellent
+listeners...." Here the speaker stopped for a moment and passed his long
+hand downwards across his eyes as if the light were troubling his sight;
+in doing so he glanced again towards the Abb�'s fingers, which were now
+quite motionless, the knuckles gleaming like ivory.
+
+"... And one never knows quite how much they remember and how much they
+forget. Perhaps it is that they hear everything ... and forget nothing.
+Is our friend of this type, my son?"
+
+"I think he is."
+
+"It is such men as he who have made that little island what it is. They
+are difficult subjects; but they are liable to sacrifice their
+opportunities to a mistaken creed they call honour, and therefore they
+are not such dangerous enemies as they otherwise might have been."
+
+The Provincial said these words in a lighter manner, almost amounting to
+pleasantry, and did not appear to notice that the priest moved uneasily
+in his seat.
+
+"Then," he continued, "you have learnt nothing of importance during the
+few days you have passed with him?"
+
+"Nothing, my father."
+
+"Did he make any attempt to communicate with his friends?"
+
+"He wrote a letter which he requested me to post."
+
+The Provincial leant forward in his chair and took a pen in his right
+hand, while he extended his left across the table towards his companion.
+
+"I burnt it," said Ren� gently.
+
+"Ah! That is a pity. Why did you do that?"
+
+"I had discretion!" replied the young priest, with quiet determination.
+
+The Provincial examined the point of his pen critically, his perfectly
+formed lips slightly apart.
+
+"Yes," he murmured reflectively. "Yes, of course, you had discretion.
+What was in the letter?"
+
+"A few words in English, telling his friends to have no anxiety, and
+asking them particularly to institute no search, as he would return home
+as soon as he desired to do so."
+
+"Ah! He said that, did he? And the letter was addressed to--"
+
+"Mr. Carew."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The Provincial made another note in the manuscript book. Then he read
+the whole page over carefully and critically. His attitude was like that
+of a physician about to pronounce a diagnosis.
+
+"And," he said reflectively, without looking up, "was there nothing
+noticeable about him in any way? Nothing characteristic of the man, I
+mean, and peculiar. How would you describe him, in fact?"
+
+"I should say," replied Ren� Drucquer, "that his chief characteristic is
+energy; but for some reason, during these last two days this seems to
+have slowly evaporated. His resistance on Wednesday night was very
+energetic--he dislocated my arm, and reset it later--and when the vessel
+was in danger he was full of life. Later this peculiar indifference of
+manner came over him, and hour by hour it has increased in power. It
+almost seems as if he were anxious to keep away from England just now."
+
+The Provincial raised his long white finger to his upper lip. It was the
+action of a man who is in the habit of tugging gently at his moustache
+when in thought, and one would almost have said that the smooth-faced
+priest had at no very distant period worn that manly ornament. His
+finger passed over the shaded skin with a disagreeable, rasping sound.
+
+"That does not sound very likely," he said slowly. "Have you any
+tangible reason, to offer in support of this theory?"
+
+"No, my father. But the idea came to me, and so I mention it. It seemed
+as if this desire came to him upon reflection, after the ship was out of
+danger, and the indifference was contemporaneous with it."
+
+The Provincial suddenly closed the book and laid aside his pen.
+
+"Thank you, my son!" he said, in smooth, heartless tones, "I will not
+trouble you any more to-night. You will need food and rest. Good night,
+my son. You have done well!"
+
+Ren� Drucquer rose and gravely passed down the long room. Before he
+reached the door, however, the clear voice of his superior caused him to
+pause for a moment.
+
+"As you go down to the refectory," he said, "kindly make a request that
+Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want
+you to see him before I do!"
+
+When the door had closed behind Ren� Drucquer the Provincial rose from
+his seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the
+table. Presently he drew aside the curtain which hid a small recess near
+the door, whore a simple bed and a small table were concealed. With a
+brush he smoothed back his sleek hair, and, dipping the ends of his
+fingers into a basin of water, he wiped them carefully. Thus he prepared
+to receive Christian Vellacott.
+
+He returned to his chair and seated himself somewhat wearily. Although
+there were but few papers on the table, he had three hours' hard work
+before him yet. He leant back, and again, that singular gesture, as if
+to stroke a moustache that was not there, was noticeable.
+
+"I have a dull presentiment," he muttered reflectively, "that we have
+made a mistake here. We have gone about it in the wrong way, and if
+there is blame to be attached to any one, Talma is the man. That temper
+of his is fatal!"
+
+After a pause he heaved a weary sigh, and stretched his long arms out on
+either side, enjoying a free and open yawn.
+
+"Ah me!" he sighed, "what an uphill fight this has become, and day by
+day it grows harder. Day by day we lose power; one hold after another
+slips from our grasp. Perhaps it means that this vast organisation is
+effete--perhaps, after all, we are dying of inanition, and yet--yet it
+should not be, for we have the people still.... Ah! I hear footsteps.
+This is our journalistic friend, no doubt. I think he will prove
+interesting."
+
+A moment later someone knocked softly at the door. There was a slight
+shuffling of feet, and Christian Vellacott entered the room alone. There
+was a peculiar dull expression in his eyes, as if he were suffering
+pain, mental or physical. After glancing at the mirror, the Provincial
+rose and bowed formally with his hand upon the back of his chair. As the
+Englishman came forward the Jesuit glanced at his face, and with a
+polite motion of the hand he said:
+
+"Sir, take the trouble of seating yourself," speaking in French at once,
+with no apology, as if well aware that his companion knew that language
+as perfectly as his own.
+
+"Thank you," replied Christian. He drew the chair slightly forward as he
+seated himself, and fixed his eyes upon the Jesuit's face. Through the
+entire interview he never removed his gaze, and he noticed that until
+the last words were spoken those soft, deep eyes were never raised to
+his.
+
+"I suppose," said the Jesuit at length, almost humbly, "that we are
+irreconcilable enemies, Mr. Vellacott?"
+
+The manner in which this was spoken did not bear the slightest
+resemblance to the cold superiority with which Ren� Drucquer had been
+treated.
+
+The Englishman sat with one lean hand resting on the table and watched.
+He knew that some reply was expected, but in face of that knowledge he
+chose to remain silent. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek. The
+inscrutable Provincial had met a foeman worthy of his steel at last. His
+strange magnetic influence threw itself vainly against a will as firm as
+his own, and he felt that his incidental effects, dramatic and
+conversational, fell flat. Instantly he became interested in Christian
+Vellacott.
+
+"I need hardly remind a man of your discrimination, Mr. Vellacott," he
+continued tentatively, "that there are two sides to every question."
+
+The Englishman smiled and moved slightly in his chair, drawing in his
+feet and leaning forward.
+
+"Implying, I presume," he said lightly, "that in this particular
+question you are on one side and I upon the other."
+
+"Alas! it seems so."
+
+Vellacott leant back in his chair again and crossed his legs.
+
+"In my turn," he said quietly, "I must remind you, monsieur, that I am a
+journalist."
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and waited for
+his companion to continue. His silence and the momentary motion of his
+eyebrows, which in no way affected the lids, expressed admirably his
+failure to see the connection of his companion's remark.
+
+"Which means," Christian went on to explain, "that my place is not upon
+either side of the question, but in the middle. I belong to no party,
+and I am the enemy of no man. I do not lead men's opinions. It is my
+duty to state facts as plainly and as coldly as possible in order that
+my countrymen may form their own judgment. It may appear that at one
+time I write upon one side of the question; the next week I may seem to
+write upon the other. That is one of the misfortunes of my calling."
+
+"Then we are not necessarily enemies," said the Jesuit softly.
+
+"No--not necessarily. On the other hand," continued Christian, with
+daring deliberation, "it is not at all necessary that we should be
+friends."
+
+The Jesuit smiled slightly--so slightly that it was the mere ghost of a
+smile, affecting the lines of his small mouth, but in no way relieving
+the soft darkness of his eyes.
+
+"Then we are enemies," he said. "He whose follower I am, said that all
+who are not with Him are against Him."
+
+The Englishman's lips closed suddenly, and a peculiar stony look came
+over his face. There was one subject upon which he had determined not to
+converse.
+
+"I am instructed," continued the Provincial, with a sudden change of
+manner from pleasant to practical, "to ask of you a written promise
+never to write one word either for or against the Society of Jesus
+again. In exchange for that promise I am empowered to tender to you the
+sincere apologies of the Society for the inconvenience to which you may
+have been put, and to assist you in every way to return home at once."
+
+A great silence followed this speech. A small clock suspended somewhere
+in the room ticked monotonously, otherwise there was no sound audible.
+The two men sat within a yard of each other, each thinking, of the other
+in his individual way, from his individual point of view, the Jesuit
+with downcast eyes, his companion watching his immobile features.
+
+At length Christian Vellacott's full and quiet tones broke the spell.
+
+"Of course," he said simply, "I refuse."
+
+The Provincial rose from his seat, pushing it back as he did so.
+
+"Then I will not detain you any longer. You are no doubt fatigued. The
+lay brother waiting outside will show you the room assigned to you, and
+at whatever time of day or night you may wish to see me, remember that I
+am at your service."
+
+Christian rose also. He appeared to hesitate, and then to grasp the
+table with both hands to assist himself. He stood for a moment, and
+suddenly tottered forward. Had not the Provincial caught him he would
+have fallen.
+
+"My head turns," he mumbled incoherently.
+
+"What is the matter? ... what is the matter?"
+
+The Jesuit slipped his arm round him--a slight arm, but as hard and
+strong as steel.
+
+"You are tired," he said sympathetically, "perhaps you have a little
+touch of fever. Come, I will assist you to your room."
+
+And the two men passed out together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+STRICKEN DOWN
+
+
+In later days Christian Vellacott could bring back to his memory no
+distinct recollection of that first night spent in the monastery. There
+was an indefinite remembrance of the steady, monotonous clang of a bell
+in the first hours, doubtless the tolling of the matins, calling the
+elect to prayer at midnight.
+
+After that he must have fallen into a deep, lethargic sleep, for he
+never heard the distant strains of the organ and the melodious chanting
+of gruff voices. The strange, unquiet melody hovered over him in the
+little cell, following him as he glided away from earth upon the blessed
+wings of sleep, and haunted his restless dreams.
+
+The monks were early astir next morning, for the sweet smell of drying
+hay filled the air, and the second crop of the fruitful earth lay
+waiting to be stacked. With tucked-up gowns and bared arms the sturdy
+devotees worked with rake and pitchfork. No whispered word passed
+between them; none raised his head to look around upon the smiling
+landscape or search in the cloudless sky for the tiny lark whose morning
+hymn rippled down to them. Each worked on in silence, tossing the
+scented hay, his mind being no doubt filled with thoughts above all
+earthly things.
+
+Near at hand lay a carefully-kept vegetable garden of large dimensions.
+Here grew in profusion all nourishing roots and herbs, but there was no
+sign of more luscious fruits. Small birds hopped and fluttered here and
+there unheeded and unmolested, calling to each other joyously, and the
+warming air was alive with the hum of tinier wings.
+
+In the midst of this walked man--the lord of all--humbly, silently, with
+bowed head and unadmiring eyes--man whose life was vouchsafed for the
+enjoyment of all these things.
+
+A little square patch of sunlight lay on the stone floor of the small
+cell allotted to Christian Vellacott. The thick oak door deadened the
+sounds of life in the monastery, such as they were, and the strong,
+laboured breathing of the young Englishman alone broke the chill
+silence.
+
+Christian lay, all dressed, on the narrow bed. His eyes were half
+closed, and the ruddy brown of his cheeks had faded into an ashy grey.
+His clenched hands lay numbly at his side. Through his open, swollen
+lips meaningless words came in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Presently the door opened with a creaking sound, but the sleeper moved
+no limb or feature. Ren� Drucquer entered the cell and ran quickly to
+the bedside. Behind, with more dignity and deliberation, followed the
+sub-prior of the monastery. The young priest had obtained permission
+from his Provincial to see Christian Vellacott for a few moments before
+his hurried departure for India. Thus Ren� had received his mission
+sooner than he had hoped for. The astute and far-seeing Provincial had
+from the beginning intended that Ren� Drucquer should be removed from
+harm's way without delay once his disagreeable mission to St. Mary
+Western was performed.
+
+"My father," exclaimed the young priest in alarm, "he is dying!"
+
+The venerable sub-prior bent his head over the bed. He was a tall, spare
+man, with very sunken cheeks, and a marvellous expression of placid
+contentment in his eyes such as one never finds in the face of a young
+monk. He was very learned in medicines, and in the administration of
+such simple herbs as were required to remedy the illnesses within the
+monastery walls. Perhaps some of his patients died when they might have
+lived under more skilled treatment, but it is a short and easy step from
+life to death within a comfortless cell, and his bony hands were as
+tender over his sick brethren as those of a woman.
+
+He felt the Englishman's pulse and watched his ashen face for some
+moments, touching the clammy forehead softly, while Ren� Drucquer stood
+by with a great sickening weight of remorse and fear upon his heart.
+Then the sub-prior knelt stiffly down, and placed his clean-shaven lips
+near to Christian's ear.
+
+"My son," he said, "do you hear me?"
+
+Christian breathed less heavily, as if he were listening to some far-off
+sound, but never moved a feature. Presently he began to murmur
+incoherently, and the sub-prior bent his ear to listen.
+
+"Much good would a blessing of mine do you, Hilda," observed Christian
+into the reverend ear. The old gentleman raised his cadaverous head and
+looked somewhat puzzled. Again he listened.
+
+"Look after Aunt Judy--she cannot last long," murmured the young
+Englishman in his native tongue, which was unknown to the monk.
+
+"It is fever," said the sub-prior presently--"one of those terrible
+fevers which kill men as the cold kills flies!"
+
+No thought seemed to enter the monk's mind of possible infection. He
+knelt upon the cold floor with one bare and bony arm beneath the sick
+man's head, while the other lay across his breast. He was looking
+intently into the veiled eyes, inhaling the very breath of the swollen
+lips.
+
+"Will he die, my father?" asked Ren� Drucquer in a whisper; his face was
+as pale as Vellacott's.
+
+"He is in the hands of the good God," was the pious answer. The tall
+monk rose to his feet and stood before the bed thinking. He rubbed his
+bony hands together slowly. Through the tiny window a shaft of sunlight
+poured down upon his grizzled head, and showed up relentlessly the deep
+furrows that ran diagonally down from his cheek-bone to his chin.
+
+"You must watch here, my son," he continued, "while I inform the
+Father-Provincial of this."
+
+The venerable sub-prior was no Jesuit, and perhaps he would have been
+just as well pleased had the Provincial elected to live elsewhere than
+in the monastery. But the Prior--an old man of ninety, and incapable of
+work or thought--was completely in the power of the Society.
+
+When he found himself alone with the Englishman, Ren� Drucquer sat
+wearily upon a small wooden bench, the only form of seat provided, and
+leaned his narrow face upon his hands.
+
+The prospect that he saw before him as he sat staring vacantly at the
+floor of the little cell was black enough. He saw no possible outlet,
+and he had not the courage to force his way through the barriers erected
+all round him. It must be remembered that he was a Roman Catholic, and
+over a sincere disciple of the Mother Church the power of the Jesuits is
+greater than man should ever be allowed to exercise. The slavery that
+England fought against so restlessly is nothing to it, for mental
+bondage is infinitely heavier than physical service. He had determined
+to accept the Provincial's offer of missionary work in Asia, but the
+sudden horror of realising that he was a Jesuit, and could never be
+anything else than a Jesuit for the rest of his days, was fresh upon
+him. He was too young yet to find consolation in the thought that he at
+all events could attempt to steer a clear, unsullied course through the
+shoals and quicksands that surround a priest's existence, and he was too
+old to buoy himself up with the false hope that he might, despite his
+Jesuit's oath, do some good work for his Church. His awakening had been
+rendered more terrible by the brilliancy of the dreams which it had
+interrupted.
+
+He had not looked upon Christian Vellacott as a victim hitherto, for the
+bravest receive the least sympathy, and the young Englishman's cool way
+of treating his reverse of fortune had repelled pity or commiseration.
+But now all that was changed. Whatever this sickness might prove to be,
+Ren� Drucquer felt that the blame of it lay at his own door. If
+Christian Vellacott were to die, he, Ren� Drucquer, was in the eyes of
+God a murderer, for he had forcibly brought him to his death. This was
+an unpleasant reflection for a young devotee whose inward soul was full
+of human kindness; and the presence of the strong man who lay gasping
+for breath upon the narrow, comfortless bed was not reassuring.
+
+It was only natural that those thoughts, coupled with the realisation of
+the aimlessness of his own existence, should have bred in the young
+Jesuit's heart a dull fire of antagonism against the man who was in
+immediate authority over him, and when the Provincial noiselessly
+entered the cell a few minutes later, he felt a sudden thrill of
+misgiving at the thought that his feelings were sacred to none--that
+this man with his deep, inscrutable eyes could read the face of his very
+soul like an open book.
+
+In this, Ren� Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the
+presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it
+extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this
+knowledge in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him
+in every turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise
+it. Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never
+been turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of
+incurring the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the
+line of life which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the
+love of their fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it.
+
+The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of
+motion. His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his
+eyes rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension.
+He approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist.
+For a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face,
+and then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here
+again there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection.
+
+The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while Ren�, who had
+risen from his seat, was near at hand.
+
+"This man, my father," said the Provincial coldly, "must not die. You
+must take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is
+necessary you can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense,
+and I shall be grieved to hear of his death!"
+
+Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had
+already lasted nearly three minutes.
+
+Ren� Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and
+the door, so that he was in a position to command attention.
+
+"My father," he pleaded, "may I nurse him?"
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved
+his hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside.
+
+"No," he said softly, "you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour," and
+he passed out into the noiseless corridor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+BACK TO LIFE
+
+
+One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white
+monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and
+full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial
+promenade.
+
+It is, perhaps, needless to observe that he was alone. No one ever
+walked with the Provincial. No footstep ever crushed the gravel in
+harmony with his gliding tread. Perhaps, indeed, no one had ever walked
+with him thus, in the twilight, since a fairy, dancing form had moved in
+the shadow of his tall person, and footsteps lighter than his own had
+vainly endeavoured to keep time with his longer limbs. But that was in
+no monastery garden; and the useful, vegetable producing enclosure bore
+little resemblance to the ch�teau terrace. In those days it may be that
+there was a gleam of life in the man's deep, velvety eyes--perhaps,
+indeed, a moustache adorned the short, twisted lip where the white
+fingers rasped so frequently now.
+
+The pious monks were busy with their evening meal, and the Provincial
+was quite alone in the garden. All around him the leaves glowed ruddily
+in the warm light. Everywhere the fruits of earth were ripe and full
+with mature beauty; but the solitary walker noted none of these. He
+paced backwards and forwards with downcast eyes, turning slowly and
+indifferently as if it mattered little where he walked. The merry
+blackbirds in the hay field adjoining the garden called to each other
+continuously, and from a hidden rookery came the voice of the dusky
+settlers, which is, perhaps, the saddest sound in all nature's
+harmonies. But the Jesuit resolutely refused to listen. Once, however,
+he stopped and stood motionless for some seconds, with his head turned
+slightly to meet the distant cry; but he never raised his eyes, which
+were deep and lifeless in their gaze. It may be that there was a rookery
+near that southern ch�teau, where he once had walked in the solemn
+evening hour, or perhaps he did not hear that sound at all though his
+ear was turned towards it.
+
+It would be hard indeed to read from the priest's still features the
+thoughts that might be passing through his powerful brain; but the
+strange influence of his being was such as makes itself felt without any
+spoken word. As he walked there with his long hands clasped behind his
+back, his peculiarly shaped head bent slightly forward, and his perfect
+lips closely pressed, no one could have looked at him without feeling
+instinctively that no ordinary mind was busy beneath the tiny
+tonsure--that no ordinary soul breathed there for weal or woe, seeking
+after higher things in the right way or the wrong. The man's cultivated
+repose of manner, his evident intellectuality, and his subtle strength
+of purpose visible in every glance of his eyes, betrayed that although
+his life might be passed in the calm retreat of a monastery, his soul
+was not there. The man was never created to pass his existence in
+prayerful meditation; his mission was one of strife and contention
+amidst the strong minds of the age. One felt that he was living in this
+quiet Breton valley for a purpose; that from this peaceful spot he was
+dexterously handling wires that caused puppets--aye, puppets with golden
+crowns--to dance, and smirk, and bow in the farthest corners of the
+earth.
+
+Presently the Jesuit heard footsteps upon the gravel at the far side of
+the garden, but he did not raise his head. His interest in the trivial
+incidents of everyday life appeared to be quite dead.
+
+"Softly, softly!" said a deep, rough voice, which the Provincial
+recognised as that of the sub-prior; then he raised his eyes slightly
+and looked across the garden, without, however, altering his pace.
+
+He saw there Christian Vellacott walking by the side of the hard-faced
+old monk with long, hesitating strides, like a man who had forgotten how
+to use his legs. It was exactly six weeks since the young journalist had
+passed through that garden with Ren� Drucquer, and those weeks had been
+to him a strange and not unpleasant dream. It seemed as if the man lying
+upon that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic
+Christian Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily
+comfortable from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a
+speculative description, as if he looked on things from afar off.
+Nothing seemed to matter much. There was an all-pervading sense of
+restful indifference as to whether it might be night or day, morning,
+noon, or evening. All responsibility in existence seemed to have left
+him: his ready pride of self-dependence had given way to a gentle
+obedience, and the passage from wakefulness to sleep was very sweet.
+
+Through all those dreamy hours he heard the soft rustle of woollen
+garments and the suppressed shuffle of sandalled feet. Whenever he
+opened his heavy eyes he discerned vaguely in the dim light a grey,
+still form seated upon the plain wooden bench at his bedside. Whenever
+he tried to change his position upon the hard bed and his weary bones
+refused their function, strong, hard hands were slipped beneath him and
+kind assistance freely given. As a rule, it was the tall sub-prior who
+ministered to the sick man, fighting the dread fever with all his simple
+knowledge; his hands smoothed oftenest the tossed pillow; but many
+clean-shaven, strong, and weary faces were bowed over the bed during
+those six weeks, for there was a competition for the post of sick-nurse.
+The monks loved to feel that they were performing some tangible good,
+and not spending their hours over make-believe tasks like a
+man-of-warsman in fine weather.
+
+One frequent visitor, however, Christian Vellacott never saw beneath his
+lazy lashes. The Provincial never entered that little cell unless he was
+positively informed that its inmate was asleep. The inscrutable Jesuit
+seemed almost to be ashamed of the anxiety that he undoubtedly felt
+respecting the sick man thus thrown upon his hands by a peculiar chain
+of incidents. He spoke coldly and sarcastically to the sub-prior
+whenever he condescended to mention the subject at all; but no day
+passed in which he failed to pay at least one visit to the little cell
+at the end of the long, silent corridor.
+
+"Softly, softly!" said the old sub-prior, holding out his bony hand to
+stay his companion's progress, "you are too ambitious, my son."
+
+Christian laughed in a low, weak voice, and raised his head to look
+round him. The laugh ceased suddenly as he caught sight of the
+Provincial, and across the potato-bed the two strong men looked
+speculatively into each other's eyes in the peaceful twilight. The
+Jesuit's gaze fell first, and with a dignified bow he moved gently away.
+
+"I am stronger than I look, my father," said Christian, turning to his
+companion. Then they walked slowly on, and presently rested upon a
+wooden bench built against the monastery wall.
+
+The young Englishman leaned back and watched the Provincial, who was
+pacing backwards and forwards where they had first seen him. The old
+monk sat with clasped hands, and gravely contemplated the gravel beneath
+his feet. Thus they waited together within the high, whitewashed walls,
+while the light faded from the western sky. Three types, as strangely
+contrasted as the student of human kind could wish to see: the old monk
+with his placid bloodless face and strong useless arms--a wasted
+energy, a mere monument to mistaken zeal; and the younger men so widely
+severed by social circumstances, and yet resembling each other somewhat
+in heart and soul. Each had a strong individuality--each a great and
+far-reaching vitality. Each was, in his way, a power in the world, as
+all strong minds are; for in face of what may be said (and with apparent
+justice) respecting chance and mere good fortune, good men must come to
+the top among their fellows. They must--and most assuredly they do. As
+in olden days the doughtiest knights sought each other in the
+battlefield to measure steel, so in these later times the ruling
+intellects of the day meet and clear a circle round them. The Provincial
+was a power in the Society of Jesus; perhaps he was destined one day to
+be General of it; and Christian Vellacott had suddenly appeared upon the
+field of politic strife, heralding his arrival with two most deadly
+blows dealt in masterly succession. From the first they were sure to
+come together, sooner or later; and now, when they were separated by
+nothing more formidable than a bed of potatoes, they were glancing
+askance and longing to be at each other. But it could not be. Had the
+sub-prior left the garden it would have made no difference. It was
+morally impossible that those two men could speak what they were
+thinking, for one of them was a Jesuit.
+
+The Provincial, however, made the first move, and the Englishman often
+wondered in later days what his intention might have been. He walked on
+to the northern end of the garden, where a few thick-stemmed pear trees
+were trained against the wall. The fruit was hanging in profusion, for
+it was not consumed in the monastery but given to the poor at
+harvest-time. The Provincial selected a brown, ripe pear, and broke it
+delicately from the tree without allowing his fingers to come in contact
+with the fruit itself. Then he turned and walked with the same lazy
+precision towards the two other occupants of the garden. At his approach
+the sub-prior rose from his seat and stood motionless with clasped
+hands; there was a faint suggestion of antagonism in his attitude, which
+was quite devoid of servility. Christian, however, remained seated,
+raising his keen grey eyes to the Provincial's face with a quiet
+self-assertion which the Jesuit ignored.
+
+"I am glad, Monsieur, to see you restored to health," he said coldly to
+Christian, meeting his gaze for a moment.
+
+The Englishman bowed very slightly, and there was a peculiar
+expressiveness in the action which betrayed his foreign education, but
+the cool silence with which he waited for the Provincial to speak again
+was essentially British. The Jesuit moved and glanced slowly beneath his
+lowered eyelids towards the motionless figure of the sub-prior. He was
+too highly bred to allow himself to be betrayed into any sign of
+embarrassment, and too clever to let the Englishman see that he was
+hesitating. After a momentary pause he turned gravely to the sub-prior,
+and said:
+
+"Will you allow your patient, my brother, to taste of our fruit? it is
+ripe and wholesome."
+
+Then, without awaiting a reply, he presented the pear to Vellacott. It
+was a strange action, and no doubt there was some deep intention in it.
+The Jesuit must have known, however, from Ren� Drucquer's report, and
+from his own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a
+mould to allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this
+description, however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit
+in which it was conceived. Perhaps he read the Englishman's character
+totally wrong, although his experience of men must have been very great;
+or perhaps he really wished to conciliate him, and took this first step
+with the graceful delicacy of his nation, with a view to following it
+up.
+
+With a conventional word of thanks, Vellacott took the pear and set it
+down upon the bench at his side. Whatever the Jesuit's intention might
+have been, it was frustrated by his quiet action. It would have been so
+easy to have said a few words of praise regarding the fruit, and it was
+only natural to have begun eating it at once; but Vellacott read a
+deeper meaning in all this, and he chose a more difficult course. It was
+assuredly harder to keep silence then than to talk, and a weaker-minded
+man would have thanked the Provincial with effusion. The manner in which
+Vellacott laid the fruit upon the bench, his quiet and deliberate
+silence, conveyed unmistakably and intentionally that the Provincial's
+society was as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. There was nothing to be
+done but take the hint; and in the lowering twilight the solitary,
+miserable man moved reluctantly away. With contemplative hardness of
+heart the Englishman watched him go; there was no feeling of triumph in
+his soul--neither, however, was there pity. The Jesuit had chosen his
+own path, he had reached his goal, and that most terrible thirst--the
+thirst for power--was nearly slaked. If at times--at the end of a long
+day of hard mental work, when men's hearts are softened by weariness and
+lowering peace--he desired something else than power, some little touch
+of human sympathy perhaps, his was the blame if no heart responded to
+his own. Christian Vellacott sat and wondered dreamily, with the
+nonchalance of a man who has been at the very gates of death, if power
+were worth this purchase-money.
+
+The sub-prior had seated himself again, and with his strong hands meekly
+clasped he waited. He knew that something was passing which he could not
+understand: his dull instincts told him vaguely that between these two
+strong men there was war-fare, dumb, sullen, and merciless; but unused
+as he was to the ways of men, unlearned in the intricacies of human
+thoughts, he could not read more.
+
+"You have not told me yet, my father," said Vellacott, "how long I have
+been ill."
+
+"Six weeks, my son," replied the taciturn monk.
+
+"And it was very bad?"
+
+"Yes, very bad."
+
+Christian slowly rubbed his thin hands together. His fingers were moist
+and singularly white, with a bleached appearance about the knuckles. His
+face was thin, but not emaciated, his long jaw and somewhat pronounced
+chin were not more bony than of old, but the expression of his mouth was
+quite changed; his lips were no longer thrust upward with a determined
+curve, and a smile seemed nearer at hand.
+
+"I have a faint recollection of being very tenderly nursed and cared
+for; generally by you, I think. No doubt you saved my life."
+
+The sub-prior moved a little, and drew in his feet.
+
+"The matter was not in my hands," he said quietly.
+
+The Englishman, with some tact, allowed this remark to pass in
+acquiescent silence.
+
+"Did you ever think that ... I was not ... going back to England?" he
+asked presently, in a lighter tone, though the thought of returning
+home brought no smile to his face.
+
+The sub-prior did not reply at once. He appeared to be thinking deeply,
+for he leaned forward in an unmonastic attitude with his knees apart,
+his elbows resting upon them, and his hands clasped. He gazed across the
+prosaic potato-bed with his colourless lips slightly apart.
+
+"One night," he began meditatively, "I went to sit with you after the
+bell for matins had been rung. From midnight till three o'clock you
+never moved. Then I gave you some cordial, and as I stooped over you the
+candle flickered a little; there were strange shadows upon your face,
+but around your lips there was a deeper shade. I had seen it once
+before, on my brother's face when he lay upon the hard Paris pavement
+with a bullet in his lungs, and his breath whistling through the orifice
+as the wind whistles round our walls in winter. I held the candle closer
+to your face, and as I did so, a hand came over my shoulder and took it
+from my fingers. The Father Provincial had come to help me. He said no
+word, but set the candle down upon the bed, and I held you up while he
+administered the cordial drop by drop, as a man oils a cartwheel."
+
+"Ah!" said Christian slowly and suggestively, "_he_ was there!"
+
+The monk made no reply. He sat motionless, with a calm, acquired
+silence, which might have meant much or nothing.
+
+"Did he come often?" inquired the Englishman.
+
+"Very often."
+
+"I never saw him."
+
+This, again, was met with silence. Presently the sub-prior continued his
+narrative.
+
+"When daylight came at last," he said, "the shadow had left your lips. I
+think that night was the worst; it was then that you were nearer ...
+nearer than at any other time."
+
+Christian Vellacott was strong enough now to take his usual interest in
+outward things. With the writer's instinct he went through the world
+looking round him, always studying men and things, watching, listening,
+and storing up experience. The Provincial interested him greatly, but he
+did not dare to show his curiosity; he hesitated to penetrate the
+darkness that surrounded the man's life, past, present, and future. In a
+minor degree the taciturn sub-prior arrested his attention. The old monk
+was in a communicative humour, and the Englishman led him on a little
+without thinking much about the fairness of it.
+
+"Did your brother die?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"He died," was the reply. "Yes, my son, he died--died cursing the
+tyrant's bullet in his lungs. He threw away his life in a vain attempt
+to alter human nature, to set straight that which is crooked and cannot
+be set straight. He sought to bring about at once that which cometh not
+until the lion shall eat straw like an ox. See, my son, that you do not
+attempt the same."
+
+"I think," said Christian, after a pause, "that we all try a little, and
+perhaps some day a great accumulation of little efforts will take place.
+You, my father, have tried as well!"
+
+The monk slowly shook his head, without, however, any great display of
+conviction.
+
+"I was not always a monk," he said, as if seeking to excuse a bygone
+folly.
+
+It was nearly dark now. The birds were silent, and only the whispering
+of the crisp, withering leaves broke the solemn hush of eventide. The
+two men sat side by side without speaking. They had learnt to know each
+other fairly well during the last weeks--so well that between them
+silence was entirely restful. At length Christian moved restlessly. He
+had reached that stage of convalescence where a position becomes irksome
+after a short time. It was merely a sign of returning strength.
+
+"Where is the Abb� Drucquer," he asked abruptly.
+
+"He left us some time ago," was the guarded reply.
+
+"He spoke of going abroad," said Christian, deliberately ignoring the
+sub-prior's tone.
+
+"The Father Provincial told me that the Abb� had gone abroad--to
+India--to spread there the Holy Light to such as are still in darkness."
+
+The young journalist thought that he detected again a faint suggestion
+of antagonism in the sub-prior's voice. The manner in which the
+information was imparted was almost an insult to the Provincial. It was
+a repetition of his words, given in such a manner that had the speaker
+been a man of subtle tongue it would have implied grave doubt.
+
+Christian was somewhat surprised that Ren� Drucquer should have attained
+his object so quickly. He never suspected that he himself might have had
+much to do with it, that it had been deemed expedient to remove the
+young priest beyond the possible reach of his influence, because he was
+quite unconscious of this influence. He did not know that its power had
+affected Ren� Drucquer, and that some reflection of it had even touched
+the self-contained Provincial--that it was even now making this old
+sub-prior talk more openly than was prudent or wise. He happened to be
+taking the question from a very different point of view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+BACK TO WORK
+
+
+Day by day Christian Vellacott recovered strength. The enforced rest,
+and perhaps also the monastic peacefulness of his surroundings,
+contributed greatly towards this. In mental matters as in physical we
+are subject to contagion, and from the placid recluses, vegetating
+unheeded in the heart of Brittany, their prisoner acquired a certain
+restfulness of mind which was eminently beneficial to his body. Life
+inside those white walls was so sleepy and withal so pleasant that it
+was physically and mentally impossible to think and worry over events
+that might be passing in the outer world.
+
+Presently, however, Christian began to feel idle, which is a good sign
+in invalids; and soon the days became long and irksome. He began to take
+an increased interest in his surroundings, and realised at once how
+little he knew of the existence going on about him. Though he frequently
+passed, in the dim corridors and cloisters, a silent, grey-clad figure,
+exchanging perhaps with him a scarcely perceptible salutation, he had
+never spoken with any other inmates of the monastery than the Provincial
+and the sub-prior.
+
+He noticed also that the watchful care of the nurse had imperceptibly
+glided into that of a warder. He was never allowed out of his cell
+unless accompanied by the sub-prior--in fact, he was a state prisoner.
+His daily walks never extended beyond the one path near the potato bed,
+or backwards and forwards at the sunny end of the garden, where the huge
+pears hung ripely. From neither point was any portion of the surrounding
+country visible, but the Provincial could not veil the sun, and
+Christian knew where lay the west and where the east.
+
+No possible opportunity for escape presented itself, but the Englishman
+was storing up strength and knowledge all the while. He knew that things
+would not go on for long like this, and felt that the Provincial would
+sooner or later summon him to the long room at the end of the corridor
+upon the upper floor.
+
+This call came to him three weeks after the day when the two men had met
+in the garden--nine weeks after the Englishman's captivity had
+commenced.
+
+"My son," said the sub-prior one afternoon, "the Father Provincial
+wishes to speak with you to-day at three."
+
+Christian glanced up at the great monastery clock, which declared the
+time to be a quarter to three.
+
+"I am ready," he said quietly. There was no tremor in his voice or light
+in his eyes, and he continued walking leisurely by the side of the old
+monk; but a sudden thrill of pleasant anticipation warmed his heart.
+
+A little later they entered the monastery and mounted the stone stairs
+together. As they walked along the corridor the clock in the tower
+overhead struck three.
+
+"I will wait for you at the foot of the stairs," said the monk slowly,
+as if with some compunction. Then he led the way to the end of the
+corridor and knocked at the door. He stood back, as if the Provincial
+were in the habit of keeping knockers waiting. Such was, at all events,
+the case now, and some minutes elapsed before a clear, low voice bade
+him enter.
+
+The monk opened the door and stood back against the wall for Christian
+to pass in. The Provincial was seated at the table near the window,
+which was open, the afternoon being sultry although the autumn was
+nearly over. At his left hand stood the small Venetian mirror which
+enabled him to see who was behind him without turning round.
+
+As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly,
+with one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the
+left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up:
+
+"Be good enough--Mr. Vellacott."
+
+When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and
+fixed them upon the Englishman's face. The action was slightly dramatic,
+but very effective, and clearly showed that he was accustomed to find
+the eyes of others quail before his. Christian met the gaze with a
+calmness more difficult to meet than open defiance. After a moment they
+turned away simultaneously.
+
+"I need scarcely," said the Provincial, with singular sweetness of
+manner, which, however, was quite devoid of servility, "apologise to
+you, Monsieur, for speaking in French, as it is almost your native
+language."
+
+Christian bowed, at the same time edging somewhat nearer to the table.
+
+"There are one or two matters," continued the Jesuit, speaking faster,
+"upon which I have been instructed to treat with you; but first I must
+congratulate you upon your restoration to health. Your illness has been
+very serious... I trust that you have had nothing to complain of... in
+the treatment which you have received at our hands."
+
+Christian, while sitting quite motionless, was making an exhaustive
+survey of the room.
+
+"On the contrary," he said, in a conventional tone which, in comparison
+to his companion's manner, was almost brutal, "it is probably owing to
+the care of the sub-prior that I am alive at the present moment, and--"
+
+He stopped suddenly; an almost imperceptible motion of the Jesuit's
+straight eyebrows warned him.
+
+"And...?" repeated the Provincial, interrogatively. He leant back in his
+chair with an obvious air of interest.
+
+"And I am very grateful----to him."
+
+"The reverend father is a great doctor," said the Jesuit lightly.
+"Excuse me," he continued, rising and leaning across the table, "I will
+close the window; the air from the river begins to grow cool."
+
+The journalist moved slightly, looking over his shoulder towards the
+window; at the same moment he altered, with his elbow, the position of
+the small mirror standing upon the table. Instead of reflecting the
+whole room, including the door at the end, it now reproduced the blank
+wall at the side opposed to the curtained recess where the bed was
+placed.
+
+"And now, Mr. Vellacott," continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, "I
+must beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual
+frankness, and--and it seems to me that a certain allowance for
+respective circumstances can well be demanded."
+
+He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became
+absorbed for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
+
+"From your pen," he then said, in a businesslike monotone, "there has
+emanated a serious and hitherto unproved charge against the Holy Society
+of Jesus. It came at a critical moment in the political strife then
+raging in France; and, in proportion to the attention it attracted, harm
+and calumny accrued to the Society. I am told that your motives were
+purely patriotic, and your desire was nothing beyond a most laudable one
+of keeping your countrymen out of difficulties. Before I had the
+pleasure of seeing you I said, 'This is a young journalist who, at any
+expense, and even at the sacrifice of truth, wishes to make a name in
+the world and force himself into public attention.' Since then I have
+withdrawn that opinion."
+
+During these remarks the Provincial had not raised his eyes from the
+table. He now leant back in the chair and contemplated his own clasped
+hands. Christian had listened attentively. His long, grave face was
+turned slightly towards the Provincial, and his eyes were perhaps a
+little softer in their gaze.
+
+"I endeavoured," he said, "some weeks ago, to explain my position."
+
+The Jesuit inclined his head. Then he raised his long white finger to
+his upper lip, stroking the blue skin pensively.
+
+Presently he raised his eyes to the Englishman's face, and in their
+velvety depths Christian thought he detected an expression which was
+almost pleading. It seemed to express a desire for help, for some slight
+assistance in the performance of a difficult task. He never again looked
+into those eyes in all his life, but the remembrance of them remained in
+his heart for many years after the surrounding incidents had passed away
+from memory and interest. He knew that the Soul looking forth from that
+pale and heartless face was of no ordinary mould or strength. In later
+years, when they were both grey-haired men whose Yea or No was of some
+weight in the world--one speaking with the great and open voice of the
+Press, the other working subtly, dumbly, secretly--their motives may
+have clashed once more, their souls may have met and touched, as it
+were, over the heads of the People, but they never looked into each
+other's eyes again.
+
+The Provincial moved uneasily.
+
+"It has been a most unfortunate business," he said gently, and after a
+pause continued more rapidly, with his eyes upon the book. "I am
+instructed to lay before you the apologies of the Society for the
+inconvenience to which you have been put. Your own sense of justice will
+tell you that we were bound to defend ourselves in every way. You have
+done us a great injury, and, as is our custom, we have contradicted
+nothing. The Society of Jesus does not defend itself in the vain hope of
+receiving justice at the hands of men. I am now in a position to inform
+you again that you are at liberty--free to go where you will, when you
+will--and that any sum you may require is at your disposal to convey you
+home to England ... on your signing a promise never to write another
+word for private or public circulation on the subject of the Holy Order
+of Jesus, or to dictate to the writing of another."
+
+"I must refuse," said Christian laconically, almost before the words had
+left the Jesuit's lips. "As I explained before, I am simply a public
+servant; what I happen to know must ever be at the public disposal or I
+am useless."
+
+A short silence followed this remark. When at length the Provincial
+spoke his tone was cold and reserved.
+
+"Of course," he said, "I expected a refusal--at first. I am instructed
+to ask you to reconsider your refusal and to oblige me, at the end of a
+week, with the result of your meditations. If it remains a refusal,
+another week will be accorded, and so on."
+
+"Until--?"
+
+The Jesuit closed the book upon the table in front of him and with great
+care altered its position so that it lay quite squarely. He raised his
+eyebrows slightly and glanced sideways towards the Englishman. At that
+moment the bell began summoning the devotees to their evening meal, its
+deep tone vibrating weirdly through the bare corridors.
+
+"Until you accept," suggested he softly.
+
+Christian looked at him speculatively. The faintest suspicion of a smile
+hovered for a moment in his eyes, and then he turned and looked out of
+the window.
+
+"I hope, Monsieur," continued the Jesuit, "that when I have the pleasure
+of seeing you--a week hence--your health will be quite re-established!"
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"And in the meantime I shall feel honoured by your asking for anything
+you may require."
+
+"Thank you!" answered Christian again. He was still looking over his
+shoulder, down at the brown river which ran immediately below the
+window.
+
+"Please excuse my rising to open the door for you," said the Provincial,
+with cool audacity, "but I have a few words to write before joining our
+brethren at their evening repast."
+
+Christian turned and looked at him vaguely. There was a peculiar gleam
+in his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. Then he rose and, as he
+passed the Jesuit, bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his grave
+salutation. He walked quickly down the length of the room, which was not
+carpeted, and opened the door, closing it again with some noise
+immediately. But he never crossed the threshold. To the man sitting at
+the table it was as if the Englishman had left the room, closing the
+door after him.
+
+Presently the Provincial glanced at the mirror, from mere habit, and
+found that it was displaced. He re-arranged it thoughtfully, so that the
+entire room was included in its field of reflection.
+
+"I wonder," he said aloud, "when and why he did that!"
+
+Then he returned to his writing. In a few minutes, however, he rose and
+pushed back his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back he stood
+and gazed fixedly out of the window. Beneath him the brown water glided
+past with curling eddy and gleaming ripple, while its soft murmur was
+the only sound that broke the pathetic silence surrounding this lonely
+man. His small and perfectly formed face was quite expressionless; the
+curve of his thin lips meant nothing; all the suppressed vitality of his
+being lay in those deep, soft eyes over which there seemed to be a veil.
+Presently he turned, and with lithe, smooth steps passed down the long
+room and out of the door.
+
+Instantly Christian Vellacott came from his hiding-place within the
+recess. He ran to the window and opened it noiselessly. A moment later
+he was standing upon the stone sill. The afternoon sun shone full upon
+his face as he stood there, and showed a deep red flush on either cheek.
+Slowly he stooped forward, holding with one hand to the woodwork of the
+window while he examined critically the surface of the water. Suddenly
+he threw his arms forward and like a black shadow dived noiselessly,
+passing into the depth without a splash. When he rose to the surface he
+turned to look at the monastery. The Provincial's window was the only
+outlet directly on to the river.
+
+The stream was rapid, and after swimming with it for a short time he
+left the water and lay down to recover his breath under the friendly
+cover of some bushes. There he remained for some time, while the short
+October twilight closed over the land. A man just dragged from the jaws
+of death, he lay in his wet clothes where he first found shelter without
+even troubling to move his limbs from the pools of water slowly
+accumulating. Already the monastery was a thing of the past. With the
+rapid forethought of his generation he was already looking to the
+future. He knew too well the spirit of the people in France to fear
+pursuit. The monks never ventured beyond their own walls except on
+ostentatious missions of charity. The machinations of the Society of
+Jesus were less to be feared in France than in England, and he had only
+to take his story to the nearest sub-prefecture to raise a storm of
+popular opinion in his favour. But this was not his project. With him,
+as in all human plans, his own personal feelings came before the
+possible duty he owed to the public. He lay beneath the bramble
+undergrowth, and speculated as to what might have taken place subsequent
+to his disappearance. At that moment the fortunes of the _Beacon_
+gave him no food for thought. What Mr. Bodery and his subordinate might,
+or might not, think found no interest in his mind. All his speculations
+were confined to events at St. Mary Western, and the outcome of his
+meditations was that when the friendly cover of darkness lay on the land
+he rose and started to walk briskly across the well-tilled country
+towards the north.
+
+That portion of Brittany which lies along the northern coast is a
+pastoral land where sleep occupies the larger half of man's life.
+Although it was only evening, an hour when Paris and London recover, as
+it were, from the previous night's vigil and brighten up into vigour,
+the solitary Englishman passed unheeded through the squalid villages,
+unmolested along the winding roads. Mile after mile of scanty forest
+land and rich meadow were left behind, while, except for a few
+heavily-breathing cattle, he met no sign of life. At last he came upon
+a broader road which bore unmistakable signs of military workmanship in
+its construction, and here he met, and passed with laconic greeting, a
+few peasant women returning with empty baskets from some neighbouring
+market; or perhaps a "cantonnier" here and there, plodding home with
+"sabots" swinging heavily and round shoulders bent beneath the burden
+of his weighty stone-breaking implements.
+
+Following the direction of this road his course was now towards the
+north-east, with more tendency to the eastward than he desired, but
+there was no choice. About eight o'clock he passed through a small
+village, which appeared to be already wrapped in stupid slumber such as
+attends the peasant's pillow. A cock crowed loudly, and in reply a dog
+barked with some alarm, but Christian was already beyond the village
+upon the deserted high road again.
+
+He now began to feel the weakening effect of his illness; his legs
+became cramped, and he frequently rested at the roadside. The highway
+was running still more to the eastward now, and Christian was just
+beginning to consider the advisability of taking to the country again,
+when it joined a broader road cut east and west. Here he stopped short,
+and, raising his head, stood quite still for some moments.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered. "The sea. I smell the sea."
+
+He now turned to the left, and advanced along the newly-discovered road
+towards the west. As he progressed the pungent odour of seaweed
+refreshed him and grew stronger every moment. Suddenly he became aware
+that although high land lay upon his left hand there was to his right a
+hollow darkness without shadow or depth. No merry plash of waves came to
+explain this; the smell of the sea was there, but the joyous tumble of
+its waters was not to be heard. The traveller stooped low and peered
+into the darkness. Gradually he discerned a distant line of horizon, and
+to that point there seemed to stretch a vast dead sheet of water without
+light or motion. Upon his ears there stole a soft bubbling sound, varied
+occasionally by a tiny ripple. Suddenly a flash of recollection appeared
+to pass through the watcher's mind, and he muttered an exclamation of
+surprise as he turned towards the east and endeavoured to pierce the
+gloom. He was right. Upon the distant line of horizon a jagged outline
+cut the sky. It was like the form of a huge tooth jutting out from the
+softer earth. Such is Mont St. Michel standing grandly alone in the
+midst of a shallow, sullen sea. The only firm thing among the quaking
+sands, the only stone for miles around.
+
+"The Bay of Cancale!" reflected Christian. "If I keep to the westward I
+shall reach St. M�lo before ten o'clock!"
+
+And he set off with renewed vigour. From his feet there stretched away
+to the north a great dead level of quicksand, seething, bubbling, and
+heaving in the darkness. The sea, and yet no sea. Neither honest land
+nor rolling water.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+SIGNOR BRUNO
+
+
+Silas Lebrun, captain and part-owner of the brig _Agnes and Mary_
+of Jersey, was an early riser. Moreover, the old gentleman entertained
+peculiar views as to the homage due to Morpheus. He made no elaborate
+toilet before entering the presence of that most lovable god. Indeed he
+always slept in his boots, and the cabin-boy had on several occasions
+invited the forecastle hands to believe that he neither removed the
+ancient sealskin cap from his head nor the wooden pipe from his lips
+when slumber soothed his senses; but this statement was always set aside
+as unauthenticated.
+
+In person the ancient sailor was almost square, with short legs and a
+body worthy of promotion to something higher. His face was wrinkled and
+brown, like the exterior of that incomprehensible fruit the medlar,
+which is never ripe till it is bad, and then it is to be avoided. A
+yellow-grey beard clustered closely round a short chin, and when
+perchance the sealskin cap was absent yellow-grey hair of a similar hue
+completed the circle, standing up as high from his brow as fell the
+beard downward from his chin. A pair of intensely blue eyes, liquid
+always with the milk of human kindness, rendered the hirsute medlar a
+pleasant thing to look at.
+
+The _Agnes and Mary_ was ready for sea, her cargo of potatoes, with
+a little light weight in the way of French beans and eggs, comfortably
+stowed, and as Captain Lebrun emerged from what he was pleased to call
+his "state-room" with the first breath of a clear morning he performed
+his matinal toilet with a certain sense of satisfaction. This
+operation was simple, consisting merely in the passage of four very
+brown fingers through the yellow-grey hair, and a hurried dispersal of
+the tobacco ash secreted in his beard.
+
+The first object that met the mariner's astonished gaze was the long
+black form of a man stretched comfortably upon the cabin locker. The
+green mud adhering to the sleeper's thin shoes showed that he had
+climbed on board at low tide when the harbour was dry.
+
+Captain Lebrun gazed meditatively at the intruder for some moments. Then
+he produced a powerfully-scented pipe of venerable appearance, which had
+been, at various stages of its existence, bound in a seaman-like manner
+with pieces of tarred yarn. He slowly filled this object, and proceeded
+to inform it in a husky voice that he was "blowed." The pipe was,
+apparently, in a similar condition, as it refused absolutely to answer
+to the powerful suction applied to it.
+
+He then seated himself with some difficulty upon the corner of the low
+table, and examined the sleeper critically.
+
+"Poor devil," he again said, addressing himself to his pipe. "He's one
+of them priest fellows.--Hi, mister!" he observed, raising his voice.
+
+Christian Vellacott woke up at once, and took in the situation without
+delay. He was not of those who must go through terrible contortions
+before regaining their senses after sleep.
+
+"Good morning, Captain!" he observed pleasantly.
+
+"Oh--yourn't a parlee voo, then!"
+
+"No, I'm an Englishman."
+
+"Indeed. Then you'll excuse me, but what in the name of glory are you
+doing here?"
+
+Christian sat up and looked at his muddy shoes with some interest.
+
+"Well, the truth is that I am bolting. I want to get across to England.
+I saw where you hailed from by your rig, and clambered on board last
+night. It seemed to me that when an Englishman is in a hole he cannot do
+better than go to a fellow-countryman for help."
+
+Captain Lebrun made a mighty effort to force a passage through his pipe,
+and was rewarded by a very high-pitched squeak.
+
+"Ay!" he said doubtfully. "But what sort of hole is it? Nothing dirty,
+I'm hopin'. Who are yer? Why are ye runnin' away, and who are ye runnin'
+from?"
+
+Though a trifle blunt the sailor's manner was not unfriendly, and
+Christian laughed before replying.
+
+"Well," he said, "to tell you the whole story would take a long time.
+You remember perhaps there was a row, about two months ago, respecting
+some English rifles found in Paris?"
+
+"Of course I remember that; we had a lot o' trouble with the Customs
+just then. The thing was ferreted out by a young newspaper fellow!"
+
+Christian rubbed his hands slowly together. He was terribly anxious to
+hear the sequel.
+
+"I am that newspaper fellow," he said, with a quick smile.
+
+Captain Lebrun slowly stood up. He contemplated his pipe thoughtfully,
+then laying it upon the table he turned solemnly towards Christian, and
+held out a broad brown hand which was covered with scales in lieu of
+skin.
+
+"Shake hands, mister?" he said.
+
+Christian obliged him.
+
+"And now," he said quickly, "I want to know what has happened
+since--since I left England. Has there been a great row? Has ... has
+anybody wondered where I was?"
+
+The old sailor may have had his suspicions. He may have guessed that
+Christian Vellacott had not left England at the dictates of his own free
+will, for he looked at him very kindly with his liquid blue eyes, and
+replied slowly:--
+
+"I couldn't say that _nobody_ hasn't been wonderin' where ye was,
+but--but there's been nothing in the papers!"
+
+"That is all right! And now will you give me a passage, Captain?"
+
+"Course I will! We sail about eleven this morning. I'm loaded and
+cleared out. But I should like you to have a change o' clothes. Can't
+bear to see ye in them black things. It makes me feel as if I was
+talkin' to a priest."
+
+"I should like nothing better," replied Christian, as he rose and
+contemplated his own person reflectively.
+
+"Come into my state-room then. I've got a few things of my own, and a
+bit of a slop-chest: jerseys and things as I sell to the men."
+
+The Captain's wardrobe was of a marine character and somewhat rough in
+texture. He had, however, a coat and waistcoat of thick blue pilot-cloth
+which fitted Christian remarkably well, but the continuations thereof
+were so absurdly out of keeping with the young fellow's long limbs as to
+precipitate the skipper on to the verge of apoplexy. When he recovered,
+and his pipe was re-lighted, he left the cabin and went forward to
+borrow a pair of the required articles from Tom Slake, an ordinary
+seaman of tall and slim proportions. In a short time Christian Vellacott
+bore the outward semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar,
+except that his cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was
+promptly commented upon by the blunt old sailor.
+
+Secrecy was absolutely necessary, so Tom, of the long legs, was the only
+person to whom Christian's presence was made known; and he it was who
+(in view of a possible berth as steward later on) was entrusted with the
+simple culinary duties of the vessel.
+
+Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity. A long shiny
+loaf of yesterday's bread, some butter in a saucer--which vessel was
+deemed entirely superfluous in connection with cups--brown sugar in an
+old mustard-tin, with portions of yellow paper adhering to it, and solid
+slices of bacon brought from the galley in their native frying-pan. Such
+slight drawbacks, however, as there might have been in the matter of
+table-ware disappeared before the sense of kindly hospitality with which
+Captain Lebrun poured the tea into a cracked cup and a borrowed
+pannikin, dropping in the sugar with careful judgment from his brown
+fingers. Such defects as there might have lurked in the culinary art as
+carried on in the galley vanished before the friendly solicitude with
+which Tom tilted the frying-pan to pour into Christian's plate a bright
+flow of bacon-fat cunningly mingled with cinders.
+
+When the meal had been duly despatched Captain Lebrun produced his pipe
+and proceeded to fill it, after having extracted from its inward parts
+the usual high-toned squeak.
+
+Christian leant back against the bulkhead with his hands buried deeply
+in Tom's borrowed pockets. He felt much more at home in pilot cloth than
+in cashmere.
+
+"There is one more thing I should like to borrow," he said.
+
+"Ay?" repeated the captain interrogatively, as he searched in his
+waistcoat-pocket for a match.
+
+"Ay, what is it?"
+
+"A pipe. I have not had a smoke for two months."
+
+The Captain struck a light upon his leg.
+
+"I've got one somewhere," he replied reassuringly; "carried it for many
+years now, just in case this one fell overboard or got broke."
+
+Tom, who happened to be present, smiled audibly behind a hand which was
+hardly a recommendation for the coveted berth of steward, but Christian
+looked at the battered pipe with sympathetic gravity.
+
+At ten o'clock the _Agnes and Mary_ warped out of harbour and
+dropped lazily down the Rance, setting sail as she went. Christian had
+spent most of the morning in the little cabin smoking Captain Lebrun's
+reserve pipe, and seeking to establish order among the accounts of the
+ship. The accounts were the _b�te noire_ of the old sailor's
+existence. Upon his own confession he "wasn't no arithmetician," and
+Christian found, upon inspecting his accounts, no cause to contradict
+this ambiguous statement.
+
+When the _Agnes and Mary_ was clear of the harbour he went on deck,
+where activity and maritime language reigned supreme. The channel was
+narrow and the wind light, consequently the little brig drifted more or
+less at her own sweet will. This would have been well enough had the
+waterway been clear of other vessels, but the Jersey steamer was coming
+in, with her yellow funnel gleaming in the sunlight, her mail-flag
+fluttering at her foremast, and her captain swearing on the bridge, with
+the whistle-pull in his hand.
+
+Seeing that the _Agnes and Mary_ had no steerage way, the captain
+stopped his engines for a few minutes, and then went ahead again at
+half-speed. This brought the vessels close together, and, as is the
+invariable custom in such circumstances, the two crews stared stonily at
+each other. On the deck were one or two passengers enjoying the morning
+air after a cramped and uncomfortable night. Among these was an old man
+with a singularly benign expression; he was standing near the
+after-wheel, gazing with senile placidity towards St. M�lo. As the
+vessels neared each other, however, he walked towards the rail, and
+stood there with a pleasant smile upon his face, as if ready to exchange
+a greeting with any kindred soul upon the _Agnes and Mary_.
+
+Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old
+man and watched him with some interest--not, however, altering his
+position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in
+due course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme
+stern of his ship.
+
+Then the young journalist removed Captain Lebrun's spare pipe from his
+lips, and leaning sideways over the water, called out:
+
+"Good morning, Signor Bruno!"
+
+The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman
+was peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared
+at the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden
+access of fury.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from
+beneath his smooth white brows. "Ah! it is you!"
+
+Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the
+little strip of water.
+
+Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his
+coat. He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught
+in the lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his
+face. A dull red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed
+ruddily, as if shot with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with
+his breast against the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the
+two ships passed away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the
+clean deck, grasping a pistol in his right hand.
+
+Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and
+smiling reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers
+crowd round him, but the _Agnes and Mary_ had now caught the breeze
+and was moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the
+water in little golden bars.
+
+"Apperlexy!" said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found
+Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer.
+"Apperlexy!"
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Christian.
+
+"I do," was the reply, given with some conviction. "I seen a man fall
+just like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a
+moment of excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once.
+Apperlexy they said it was."
+
+"It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?" said Christian
+absently.
+
+"Ay, it did," said the captain. "Ye seemed to know him!"
+
+Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. "I have met
+him twice," he said quietly. "He was in England for some years, I
+believe; a political refugee, he called himself."
+
+By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive
+attention to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well
+or ill, according to their fancy. He knew that Christian Vellacott
+wished to tell him no more, and he was content that it should be so, but
+he had noticed a circumstance which, from the young journalist's
+position, was probably invisible. He turned to give an order to the man
+at the wheel, and then walked slowly and with some difficulty (for
+Captain Lebrun suffered, in a quiet way, agonies from rheumatism) back
+towards his passenger.
+
+"Seemed to me," he said reflectively, as he looked upwards to see if the
+foretopsail was shivering, "as if he had something in his hand when a'
+fell."
+
+Christian followed the Captain's gaze. The sails were now filling well,
+and there was an exhilarating sound of straining cordage in the air
+while the vessel glided on. The young journalist was not an
+impressionable man, but he felt all these things.  The sense of open
+freedom, the gentle rise and fall of the vessel, the whirring breeze,
+and the distant line of high land up the Rance towards Dinant--all
+these were surely worth hearing, feeling, and seeing; assuredly, they
+added to the joy of living.
+
+"Something in his hand," he repeated gravely; "what was it?"
+
+Captain Lebrun turned sideways towards the steersman, and made a little
+gesture with his left hand. A wrinkle had appeared in one corner of the
+foretopsail. Then he looked round the horizon with a sailor's
+far-seeing gaze, before replying.
+
+"Seemed to me," he mumbled, without taking his pipe from his lips,
+"that it was a revolver."
+
+Then the two men smoked in silence for some time. The little vessel
+moved steadily out towards the blue water, passing a lighthouse built
+upon a solitary rock, and later a lightship, with its clean red hull
+gleaming in the sunlight as it rose and fell lazily. So close were they
+to the latter that the man watching on deck waved his hand in
+salutation.
+
+Still Vellacott had vouchsafed no reply to Captain Lebrun's strange
+statement. He sat on the low rail, swinging one leg monotonously, while
+the square little sailor stood at his side with that patient maritime
+reflectiveness which is being slowly killed by the quicker ways of
+steam.
+
+"My calling brings me into contact with a rum lot of people," said the
+young fellow at last, "and I suppose all of us make enemies without
+knowing it."
+
+With this vague elucidation the little skipper was forced to content
+himself. He gave a grunt of acquiescence, and walked forward to
+superintend the catheading of the anchor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+
+
+One would almost have said that the good citizen Jacquetot was restless
+and disturbed. It was not that the little tobacco shop left aught to be
+desired in the way of order, neither had the tobacconist quitted his
+seat at the window-end of the counter. But he was not smoking, and at
+short intervals he drew aside the little red curtain and looked out into
+the quiet Rue St. Gingolphe with a certain eagerness.
+
+The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually
+waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of
+September in a year which it is not expedient to name, he seemed to be
+looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by
+surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast
+forehead at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a
+snuff-taker have recourse to that solace more frequently when he is
+agitated than when a warm calm reigns within his breast.
+
+"So quiet--so quiet," he muttered, "in our little street--and in the
+others--who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters lowered
+there."
+
+He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter of an
+occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
+
+Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal of the _Petit
+Journal_. Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply
+and drew aside the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The
+footsteps were hurried and yet hesitating--the gait of a person not
+knowing his whereabouts. And yet the man who entered the shop a moment
+later was evidently the same who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when
+last we met him.
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "It is you!"
+
+"No," replied the other. "It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot--I
+think you call it."
+
+"But, yes!" exclaimed the fat man in amazement. "You are that citizen,
+and you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne."
+
+The new-comer was looking round him curiously; he stepped towards the
+curtained door, and turned the handle.
+
+"I am," he said, "his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is
+this the room? Yes!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance."
+
+The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
+
+"Go," said the other, "and get a mattress. Bring it and lay it on this
+table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit."
+
+Jacquetot rose laboriously from his seat. He knew now that this was not
+the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke
+with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be
+obeyed. He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People.
+The Vicomte d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different
+people--this man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders
+without heeding the reception of them.
+
+The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small
+door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving
+the new-comer alone.
+
+A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man
+passed through the little curtained doorway into the room at the back of
+the shop, closing the door after him.
+
+The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite
+still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door
+when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it
+behind him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
+
+Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood
+looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in
+height and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird
+and unpleasant in their action--in their silence.
+
+"Ah!" said the last comer. "It is thou. I almost fired!"
+
+And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
+
+"Why have you done this?" continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. "I thought
+we agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us
+both without meeting, if we exercised a little care."
+
+"She is dead," replied the brother. "She died two years ago--the wife of
+Prangius--what does it matter now?"
+
+"I know that--but why did you come?"
+
+"I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade,
+and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?"
+
+The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast;
+the light of the gas flickered, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did
+so.
+
+"In my chest," he replied. "I am simply dripping with blood. It has
+trickled down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first--and then very
+cold."
+
+The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety eyes there
+passed that strange contraction which has been noted in the glance of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+"I have sent for a mattress," he said. "That bullet must come out. A
+doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant."
+
+"One of your Jesuits?"
+
+"Yes--one of my Jesuits."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced. He staggered a little, and
+clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
+
+"Why do you not sit down?" he suggested coldly. "There are none of
+your--_People_--here to be impressed."
+
+Again the Vicomte smiled.
+
+"Yes," he said smoothly, "we work on different lines, do we not? I
+wonder which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two--the
+two fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third--a
+dolt. Thus are they made--these women!"
+
+"And yet," said the Jesuit, "you have not forgotten."
+
+The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids were heavy,
+requiring an effort to lift them.
+
+"I do not like to hear the rooks call--that is all," he said.
+
+The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed
+to overcome Christian Vellacott's quiet defiance--
+
+"Nor I," he said. "It makes one remember."
+
+There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke--sharply and
+suddenly.
+
+"Sit down, you fool!" he said. "You are fainting."
+
+The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the
+tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
+
+The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure gleaming whitely
+amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table.
+Then the two men, the Provincial and the tobacconist of the Rue St.
+Gingolphe, lifted the wounded aristocrat gently and placed him upon the
+improvised bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no
+sound of agony, but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's
+blouse in which he was disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the
+doctor arrived. He was quite a young man, with shifting grey eyes, and
+he saluted the Provincial with a nervous obsequity which was unpleasant
+to look upon. The deftness with which he completed the task of laying
+bare the wound was notable. His fingers were too clever to be quite
+honest. When, however, he was face to face with the little blue-rimmed
+orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's muscular chest, the expression of
+his face--indeed his whole manner--changed. His eyes lost their
+shiftiness--he seemed to forget the presence of the great man standing
+at the other side of the table.
+
+While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte
+d'Audierne opened his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" said the doctor, noting this at once. "You got this on the
+Boulevard?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How did you get here?" He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
+
+"Cab."
+
+"All the way?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Who carried you into this room?" asked the doctor, returning to his
+case of instruments.
+
+"No one! I walked." The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently
+aggravated his patient.
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the
+Vicomte.
+
+"In order to avoid attracting attention."
+
+This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was
+instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again
+the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that
+of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He
+said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar restraint to his
+preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the
+persistent gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his
+face.
+
+"Will Monsieur take chloroform," he asked, unfolding a clean
+pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
+
+"No!"
+
+"But--I beg of you------"
+
+"It is not necessary," persisted the Vicomte calmly.
+
+The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little
+movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible
+elevation of the eyebrows.
+
+The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered
+bottle.
+
+Then the doctor muttered:
+
+"As you will!"
+
+He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress--the gas was turned up
+as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a
+moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning
+towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
+
+Quick as thought, he suddenly darted forward and pressed the clean
+handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte
+d'Audierne gave a little smothered exclamation of rage, and raised his
+arms; but the Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the
+mattress.
+
+After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay
+unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn back in anger, so
+that the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
+
+"It is possible," said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, "that
+Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room."
+
+Like a cat over its prey, the young doctor leant across the mattress.
+Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the
+order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless
+movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous--neat, rapid,
+and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed beneath
+the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on his
+shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red stripes
+there.
+
+After the lapse of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he
+held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
+
+"That is the bullet, my father," he said, without ceasing his
+occupation, and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
+
+"Will he live?" asked the Jesuit casually, while he examined the bullet.
+
+"If he tries, my father," was the meaning reply.
+
+The young doctor was bandaging now, skilfully and rapidly.
+
+"This would be the death of a dog," said the Provincial, as if musing
+aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had
+withdrawn some time before.
+
+"Better than the life of a dog," replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly
+mocking way, without opening his eyes.
+
+It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the
+entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they
+would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are
+like a strong spirit--light and yet potent--that floats upon the top of
+all other liquids and will mingle with none.
+
+It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without
+quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly
+observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never
+was the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical, so sceptical, as in the presence
+of his brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so
+Jesuitical, as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
+
+Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far
+apart now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte
+d'Audierne had hurried away from the deserted shore of the C�te du Nord,
+leaving his brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit in his neck.
+That slit had healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in
+both their hearts.
+
+True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he
+said that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the
+world who could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to
+test his authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose
+of seeing his brother--senior by an hour. There were many things of
+which he wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a
+more recent date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott--one of the
+few men who had succeeded in outwitting him--of Signor Bruno, or Max
+Talma, who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a
+sudden, voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at
+the sight of his face.
+
+But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is
+full of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that
+wonderful _inner_ history of France which is the most romantic
+story of human kind. And so Raoul d'Audierne--the man whose power in the
+world is like that of the fires burning within the crust of the earth,
+unseen, immeasurable--and so he took his hat, and left the little room
+behind the tobacconist's shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe--beaten,
+frustrated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+"Money," Captain Lebrun was saying emphatically, as the _Agnes and
+Mary_ drifted slowly past Gravesend pier on the rising tide. "Hang
+money! Now, I should think that you make as much of it in a month as I
+do in a year. You're a young man, and as far as I know ye, ye're a
+successful one. Life spreads out before you like a clean chart. I'm an
+old 'un--my time is nearly up. I've lived what landsmen call a hard
+life, and now I'm slowly goin' home. Ay, Mr. Vellacott, goin' home! And
+you think that with all your manifold advantages you're a happier man
+than me. Not a bit of it! And why? 'Cause you belong to a generation
+that looks so far ahead that it's afraid of bein' happy, just for fear
+there's sorrow a comin'. Money, and lookin' ahead, that's what spoils
+yer lives nowadays."
+
+The skipper emphasised these weighty observations by expectorating
+decisively into the water, and walked away, leaving Christian Vellacott
+with a vaguely amused smile upon his face. It is just possible that
+Silas Lebrun, master and owner of the _Agnes and Mary_, was nearer
+the mark than he thought.
+
+An hour later, Vellacott was walking along the deserted embankment above
+Westminster, on the Chelsea side of the river. It was nine o'clock, for
+which fact Big Ben solemnly gave his word, far up in the fog. The
+morning was very dark, and the street lamps were still alight, while
+every window sent forth a gleam suggestive of early autumnal fires.
+
+Turning up his own street he increased his pace, realising suddenly that
+he had not been within his own doors for more than four months. Much
+might have happened in that time--to change his life, perhaps. As he
+approached the house he saw a strange servant, an elderly woman, on her
+knees at the steps, and somehow the sight conveyed to his mind the
+thought that there was something waiting for him within that peaceful
+little house. He almost ran those last few yards, and sprang up the
+steps past the astonished woman without a word of explanation.
+
+The gas in the narrow entrance-hall was lighted, and as he threw aside
+his cap he perceived a warm gleam of firelight through the half-open
+door of the dining-room. He crossed the carpeted hall, and pushed open
+that door.
+
+Near the little breakfast-table, just under the gas, stood Hilda Carew.
+In _his_ room, standing among _his_ multifarious possessions,
+in the act of pouring from _his_ coffee-pot. She was dressed in
+black--he noticed that. Instead of being arranged high upon her head,
+her marvellous hair hung in one massive plait down her back. She looked
+like a tall and beautiful school-girl. He had not seen her hair like
+that since the old days when he had been as one of the Carews.
+
+As he pushed open the door, she looked up; and for a moment they stood
+thus. She set down the coffee-pot, carefully and symmetrically, in the
+centre of the china stand provided for its reception--and the colour
+slowly left her face.
+
+"You have come back at last!" she said quite monotonously. It sounded
+like a remark made for the purpose of filling up an awkward silence.
+
+Then he entered the room, and mechanically closed the door behind him.
+She noticed the action, but did not move. He passed round the table,
+behind Aunt Judy's chair, and they shook hands conventionally.
+
+"Yes," he said almost breathlessly; "I am back; you do not seem elated
+by the fact."
+
+Suddenly she smiled--the smile that suggested, in some subtle way, a
+kitten.
+
+"Of course--I am glad ... to see you."
+
+In a peculiar dreamy way she began to add milk to the coffee. It seemed
+as if this were mere play-acting, and not real life at all.
+
+"How is it that you are here?" he asked, with a broken, disjointed
+laugh. "You cannot imagine how strange an effect it was ... for me ...
+to come in and see you ... here--of all people."
+
+She looked at him gravely, and moved a step towards him.
+
+"Aunt Judy is dead!" she explained; "and Aunt Hester is very ill. Mother
+is upstairs with them--_her_--now. I have just come from the room,
+where I have been since midnight."
+
+She stopped, raised her hand to her hair as if recollecting something,
+and stood looking sideways out of the window.
+
+"There is something about you this morning," he said, with a
+concentrated deliberation, "that brings back the old Prague days. I
+suppose it is that I have not seen your hair as you have it
+to-day--since then."
+
+She turned quite away from his hungry gaze, looking out of the window.
+
+After a pause she broke the silence--with infinite tact--not speaking
+too hurriedly.
+
+"It has been a terrible week," she said. "Mother heard from Mr. Bodery
+that they were very ill; so we came. I never dreamt that it was so bad
+when you spoke of them. Five years it has been going on?"
+
+"Yes; five years. Thank you for coming, but I am sorry you should have
+seen it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Every one should keep guard over his own skeleton."
+
+She was looking at him now.
+
+"You look very ill," she said curtly. "Where have you been?"
+
+"I was kidnapped," he said, with a short laugh, "and then I got typhoid.
+The monks nursed me."
+
+"You were in a monastery?"
+
+"Yes; in Brittany."
+
+She was idly arranging the cups and saucers with her left hand, which
+she seemed desirous of bringing under his notice; but he could look at
+nothing but her face.
+
+"Then," she said, "it would have been impossible to find you?"
+
+"Quite," he replied, and after a pause he added, in a singularly easy
+manner, "Tell me what happened after I disappeared."
+
+She did not seem to like the task.
+
+"Well--we searched--oh! Christian, it was horrid!"
+
+"I wondered," he said, in a deep, soft voice, "whether you would find it
+so."
+
+"Yes, of course, we _all_ did."
+
+This did not appear to satisfy him.
+
+"But you," he persisted, "you, yourself--what did you think?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered, with painful hesitation. "I don't think I
+thought at all."
+
+"Then what did you do, Hilda?"
+
+"I--oh, we searched. We telegraphed for Mr. Bodery, who came down at
+once. Then Fred rode over, and placed himself at Mr. Bodery's disposal.
+First he went to Paris, then to Brest. He did everything that could be
+done, but of course it was of no avail. By Mr. Bodery's advice
+everything was kept secret. There was nothing in the newspapers."
+
+She stopped suddenly, and there was a silence in the room. He was
+looking at her curiously, still ignoring that little left hand. Only one
+word of her speech seemed to have attached itself to his understanding.
+
+"Fred?" he said. "Fred Farrar?"
+
+"Yes--my husband!"
+
+He turned away--walked towards the door, and then returned to the
+hearthrug, where he stood quite still.
+
+"I suppose it was a quiet wedding," he said in a hard voice, "on my
+account; eh?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered. He waited, but she added nothing.
+
+Then suddenly he laughed.
+
+"I have made a most extraordinary mistake!" he said, and again laughed.
+
+"Oh, don't" she exclaimed.
+
+"Don't what?"
+
+"Laugh."
+
+He came nearer to her--quite near, until his sleeve almost touched her
+bowed head.
+
+"I thought--at St. Mary Western--that you loved _me_."
+
+She seemed to shrink away from him.
+
+"What made me think so, Hilda?"
+
+She raised her head, and her eyes flashed one momentary appeal for
+mercy--like the eyes of a whipped dog.
+
+"Tell me," he said sternly.
+
+"It was," she whispered, "because _I_ thought so myself."
+
+"And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?"
+
+"Yes; he was so kind, so _brave_, Christian--because he knew of my
+mistake."
+
+Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the
+window.
+
+"Well," he said, after a pause, "so long as you do not suffer by it--"
+
+"Oh--h," she gasped, as if he were whipping her. She did not quite know
+what he meant. She does not know now.
+
+At last he spoke again, slowly, deliberately, and without emotion.
+
+"Some day," he said, "when you are older, when you have more experience
+of the world, you will probably fall into the habit of thanking God, in
+your prayers, that I am what I am. It is not because I am good ...
+perhaps it is because I am ambitious--my father, you may remember, was
+considered heartless; it may be _that_. But if I were different--if
+I were passionate instead of being what the world calls cold and
+calculating--you would be ... your life would be--" he stopped, and
+turning away he sat down wearily in Aunt Judy's armchair. "You will
+know some day!" he said.
+
+It is probable that she does know now. She knows, in all likelihood,
+that her husband would have been powerless to save her from Christian
+Vellacott--from herself--from that Love wherein there are no roses but
+only thorns.
+
+And in the room above them Aunt Hester was dying. So wags the world.
+There is no attention paid to the laws of dramatic effect upon the stage
+of life. The scenes are produced without sequence, without apparent
+rhyme or reason; and Chance, the scene-shifter, is very careless, for
+comedies are enacted amid scenic effects calculated to show off to
+perfection the deepest tragedy, while tragedies are spoilt by their
+surroundings.
+
+The doctor and Mrs. Carew stood at the bedside, and listened to the old
+woman's broken murmurings. Into her mind there had perhaps strayed a
+gleam of that Light which is not on the earth, for she was not abusing
+her great-nephew.
+
+"Ah, Christian," she was murmuring, "I wish you would come. I want to
+thank you for your kindness, more especially to Aunt Judy. She is old,
+and we must make allowances. I know she is aggravating. It happened long
+ago, when your father was a little boy--but it altered her whole life. I
+think women are like that. There is something that only comes to them
+once. I am feeling far from well, nephew Vellacott. I think I should
+like to see a doctor. What does Aunt Judy think? Is she asleep?"
+
+She turned her head to where she expected to find her sister, and in the
+act of turning her eyes closed. She slumbered peacefully. The two
+sisters had slept together for seventy years--seventy long, monotonous
+years, in which there had been no incident, no great joy, no deep
+sorrow--years lost. Except for the natural growth and slow decay of
+their frames, they had remained stationary, while around them children
+had grown into men and women and had passed away.
+
+Presently Aunt Hester opened her eyes, and they rested on the vacant
+pillow at her side. After a pause she slowly turned her head, and fixed
+her gaze upon the doctor's face. He thought that the power of speech had
+left her, but suddenly she spoke, quite clearly.
+
+"Where is my sister Judith?" she asked.
+
+There are times when the truth must be spoken, though it kill.
+
+"Your sister died yesterday," replied the doctor.
+
+Aunt Hester lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. Her shrivelled
+fingers were picking at the counter-pane. Then a gleam of intelligence
+passed across her face.
+
+"And now," she said, "I shall have a bed to myself. I have waited long
+enough."
+
+Aunt Hester was very human, although the shadow of an angel's wing lay
+across her bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was many years later that Christian Vellacott found himself in the
+presence of the Angel of Death again. A telegram from Havre was one day
+handed to him in the room at the back of the tall house in the Strand,
+and the result was that he crossed from Southampton to Havre that same
+night.
+
+As the sun rose over the sea the next morning, its earliest rays glanced
+gaily through the open port-hole of a cabin in a large ocean steamer,
+still panting from her struggle through tepid Eastern seas.
+
+In this little cabin lay the Jesuit missionary, Ren� Drucquer, watching
+the moving reflections of the water, which played ceaselessly on the
+painted ceiling overhead. He had been sent home from India by a
+kind-hearted army surgeon; a doomed man, stricken by a climatic disease
+in which there was neither hope nor hurry. When the steamer arrived in
+the Seine it was found expedient to let the young missionary die where
+he lay. The local agent of the Society of Jesus was a kind-hearted man,
+and therefore a faithless servant. He acceded to Ren� Drucquer's prayer
+to telegraph for Christian Vellacott.
+
+And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered
+the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed.
+
+"Ah, you have come," said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of
+pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he
+spoke.
+
+"But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder? And hard--yes, hard as
+steel."
+
+"Oh no," replied Vellacott. "It may be that the hardness that was once
+there shows now upon my face--that is all."
+
+The Frenchman looked lovingly at him, with eyes like the eyes of a
+woman.
+
+"And now you are a great man, they tell me."
+
+Vellacott shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In my way," he admitted. "And you?"
+
+"I--I have taught."
+
+"Ah! and has it been a success?"
+
+"In teaching I have learnt."
+
+Vellacott merely nodded his head.
+
+"Do you know why I sent for you?" continued the missionary.
+
+"No."
+
+"I sent for you in order to tell you that I burnt that letter at
+Audierne."
+
+"I came to that conclusion, for it never arrived."
+
+"I want you to forgive me."
+
+Vellacott laughed.
+
+"I never thought of it again," he replied heartily.
+
+The priest was looking keenly at him.
+
+"I did not say 'thou,' but '_you_,'" he persisted gently.
+
+Vellacott's glance wavered; he raised his head, and looked out of the
+open port-hole across the glassy waters of the river.
+
+"What do you mean?" he inquired.
+
+"I thought," said Ren� Drucquer, "there might be some one else--some
+woman--who was waiting for news."
+
+After a little pause the journalist replied.
+
+"My dear Abb�," he said, "there is no woman in the whole world who wants
+news of me. And the result is, as you kindly say, I am a great man
+now--in my way."
+
+But he knew that he might have been a greater.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      The Slave of the Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Slave Of The Lamp
+
+Author: Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9195]
+This file was first posted on September 14, 2003
+Last Updated: March 12, 2018
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP ***
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+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Henry Seton Merriman
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. TOOLS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. WITHOUT REST </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. BURDENED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. A REUNION </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROKEN THREADS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. PUPPETS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. FALSE METAL </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. A CLUE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. ON THE SCENT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. BURY BLUFF </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. A WARNING WORD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT WATCH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. FOILED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. BOOKS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. FOES </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. A RETREAT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. FOUL PLAY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. WINGED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. GREEK AND GREEK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. BACK TO LIFE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. BACK TO WORK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, &ldquo;Young Mistley,&rdquo; in 1888,
+      when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his
+      critique on the book, spoke of its &ldquo;powerful situations&rdquo; and
+      unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater length
+      on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right faults,
+      and added that, if &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; was not in itself a good novel, its
+      author was one who might hereafter certainly write good novels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; was followed in quick succession by &ldquo;The Phantom Future,&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;Suspense,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Prisoners and Captives.&rdquo; Some years later, considering
+      them crude and immature works, the author, at some difficulty and with no
+      little pecuniary loss, withdrew all these four first books from
+      circulation in England. Their republication in America he was powerless to
+      prevent. He therefore revised and abbreviated them, &ldquo;conscious,&rdquo; as he
+      said himself in a preface, &ldquo;of a hundred defects which the most careful
+      revision cannot eliminate.&rdquo; He was perhaps then, as he was ever, too
+      severe a critic of his own works. But though these four early books have,
+      added to youthful failings, the youthful merits of freshness, vigour and
+      imagination, their author was undoubtedly right to suppress them. By
+      writing them he learnt, it is true, the technique of his art: but no
+      author wishes&mdash;or no author should wish&mdash;to give his copy-books
+      to the world. It is as well then&mdash;it is certainly as he himself
+      desired&mdash;that these four books do not form part of the present
+      edition. It may, however, be noted that both &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; and
+      &ldquo;Prisoners and Captives&rdquo; dealt, as did &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; hereafter, with
+      Russian subjects: &ldquo;Suspense&rdquo; is the story of a war-correspondent in the
+      Russo-Turkish War of 1877: and &ldquo;The Phantom Future&rdquo; is the only novel of
+      Merriman's in which the scene is laid entirely in his own country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In 1892 he produced &ldquo;The Slave of the Lamp,&rdquo; which had run serially
+      through the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, then under the editorship of Mr.
+      James Payn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Mr. Payn, Merriman always felt that he owed a debt of gratitude for
+      much shrewd and kindly advice and encouragement. But one item of that
+      advice he neglected with, as Mr. Payn always generously owned, great
+      advantage. Mr. Payn believed that the insular nature of the ordinary
+      Briton made it, as a general rule, highly undesirable that the scene of
+      any novel should be laid outside the British Isles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After 1892 all Merriman's books, with the single exception of &ldquo;Flotsam,&rdquo;
+       which appeared serially in <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, and was, at first,
+      produced in book form by Messrs. Longman, were published by the firm of
+      Messrs. Smith, Elder, &amp; Co.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His long and serene connection with the great and honourable house which
+      had produced the works of such masters of literature as Thackeray,
+      Charlotte Bronte, and Robert Browning, was always a source of sincere
+      pleasure to him. He often expressed the opinion that, from the moment
+      when, as an inexperienced and perfectly unknown author, he sent &ldquo;Young
+      Mistley&rdquo; to Messrs. Bentley, until the time when, as a very successful
+      one, he was publishing his later novels with Messrs. Smith, Elder, he had
+      invariably received from his publishers an entirely just and upright
+      treatment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Also in 1892 he produced &ldquo;From One Generation to Another&rdquo;: and, two years
+      later, the first of his really successful novels, &ldquo;With Edged Tools.&rdquo; It
+      is the only one of his books of which he never visited the <i>mise-en-scène</i>&mdash;West
+      Africa: but he had so completely imbued himself with the scenery and the
+      spirit of the country that few, if any, of his critics detected that he
+      did not write of it from personal experience. Many of his readers were
+      firmly convinced of the reality of the precious plant, Simiacine, on whose
+      discovery the action of the plot turns. More than one correspondent wrote
+      to express a wish to take shares in the Simiacine Company!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Edged Tools&rdquo; was closely followed by &ldquo;The Grey Lady.&rdquo; Some practical
+      experience of a seafaring life, a strong love of it, and a great
+      fellow-feeling for all those whose business is in great waters, helped the
+      reality of the characters of the sailor brothers and of the sea-scenes
+      generally. The author was for some years, and at the time &ldquo;The Grey Lady&rdquo;
+       was written, an underwriter at Lloyd's, so that on the subject of ship
+      insurance&mdash;a subject on which it will be remembered part of the plot
+      hinges&mdash;he was <i>en pays de connaissance</i>. For the purpose of
+      this story, he travelled in the Balearic Islands, having, earlier, made
+      the first of many visits to Spain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the strongest characteristics in his nature, as it is certainly one
+      of the strongest characteristics in his books, was his sympathy with, and,
+      in consequence, his understanding of, the mind of the foreigner. For him,
+      indeed, there were no alien countries. He learnt the character of the
+      stranger as quickly as he learnt his language. His greatest delight was to
+      merge himself completely in the life and interests of the country he was
+      visiting&mdash;to stay at the mean <i>venta</i>, or the <i>auberge</i>
+      where the tourist was never seen&mdash;to sit in the local cafés of an
+      evening and listen to local politics and gossip; to read for the time
+      nothing but the native newspapers, and no literature but the literature,
+      past and present, of the land where he was sojourning; to follow the
+      native customs, and to see Spain, Poland or Russia with the eyes and from
+      the point of view of the Spaniard, the Pole or the Russian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The difficulties&mdash;sometimes there were even serious difficulties&mdash;of
+      visiting places where there was neither provision nor protection made for
+      the stranger, always acted upon him not as deterrent but incentive: he
+      liked something to overcome, and found the safe, comfortable, convenient
+      resting-places as uncongenial to his nature as they were unproductive for
+      the purposes of his work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In 1896 &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; was published. Merriman's travels in Russia had taken
+      place some years before&mdash;before, in fact, the publication of &ldquo;Young
+      Mistley&rdquo;&mdash;but time had not at all weakened the strong and sombre
+      impression which that great country and its unhappy people had left upon
+      him. The most popular of all his books with his English public, Merriman
+      himself did not consider it his best. It early received the compliment of
+      being banned by the Russian censor: very recently, a Russian woman told
+      the present writers that &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; is still the first book the
+      travelling Russian buys in the Tauchnitz edition, as soon as he is out of
+      his own country&mdash;&ldquo;we like to hear the truth about ourselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the same year as &ldquo;The Sowers,&rdquo; Merriman produced &ldquo;Flotsam.&rdquo; It is not,
+      strictly speaking, a romance: some of its main incidents were taken from
+      the life of a young officer of the 44th Regiment in Early Victorian days.
+      The character of Harry Wylam is, as a whole, faithful to its prototype;
+      and the last scene in the book, recording Harry's death in the Orange Free
+      State, as he was being taken in a waggon to the missionary station by the
+      Bishop of the State, is literally accurate. Merriman had visited India as
+      a boy; so here, too, the scenery is from the brush of an eye-witness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His next novel, &ldquo;In Kedar's Tents,&rdquo; was his first Spanish novel&mdash;pure
+      and simple: the action of &ldquo;The Grey Lady&rdquo; taking place chiefly in Majorca.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the country mentioned in &ldquo;In Kedar's Tents&rdquo; Merriman visited
+      personally&mdash;riding, as did Frederick Conyngham and Concepcion Vara,
+      from Algeciras to Ronda, then a difficult ride through a wild, beautiful
+      and not too safe district, the accommodation at Algeciras and Ronda being
+      at that time of an entirely primitive description. Spain had for Merriman
+      ever a peculiar attraction: the character of the Spanish gentleman&mdash;proud,
+      courteous, dignified&mdash;particularly appealed to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next country in which he sought inspiration was Holland. &ldquo;Roden's
+      Corner,&rdquo; published in 1898, broke new ground: its plot, it will be
+      remembered, turns on a commercial enterprise. The title and the main idea
+      of the story were taken from Merriman's earliest literary venture, the
+      beginning of a novel&mdash;there were only a few chapters of it&mdash;which
+      he had written before &ldquo;Young Mistley,&rdquo; and which he had discarded,
+      dissatisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The novel &ldquo;Dross&rdquo; was produced in America in 1899, having appeared
+      serially in this country in a well-known newspaper. Written during a
+      period of ill-health, Merriman thought it beneath his best work, and, true
+      to that principle which ruled his life as an author, to give to the public
+      so far as he could of that best, and of that best only, he declined (of
+      course to his own monetary disadvantage) to permit its publication in
+      England in book form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Its <i>mise-en-scène</i> is France and Suffolk; its period the Second
+      Empire&mdash;the period of &ldquo;The Last Hope.&rdquo; Napoleon III., a character by
+      whom Merriman was always peculiarly attracted, shadows it: in it appears
+      John Turner, the English banker of Paris, of &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo;; an admirable
+      and amusing sketch of a young Frenchman; and an excellent description of
+      the magnificent scenery about Saint Martin Lantosque, in the Maritime
+      Alps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the benefit of &ldquo;The Isle of Unrest,&rdquo; his next book, Merriman had
+      travelled through Corsica&mdash;not the Corsica of fashionable hotels and
+      health-resorts, but the wild and unknown parts of that lawless and
+      magnificent island. For &ldquo;The Velvet Glove&rdquo; he visited Pampeluna,
+      Saragossa, and Lerida. The country of &ldquo;The Vultures&rdquo;&mdash;Warsaw and its
+      neighbourhood&mdash;he saw in company with his friend, Mr. Stanley Weyman.
+      The pleasure of another trip, the one he took in western France&mdash;Angoulême,
+      Cognac, and the country of the Charente&mdash;for the scenery of &ldquo;The Last
+      Hope,&rdquo; was also doubled by Mr. Weyman's presence. In Dantzig&mdash;the
+      Dantzig of &ldquo;Barlasch of the Guard&rdquo;&mdash;Merriman made a stay in a bitter
+      mid-winter, visiting also Vilna and Königsberg; part of the route of the
+      Great Retreat from Moscow he traced himself. He was inclined to consider&mdash;and
+      if an author is not quite the worst judge of his own work he is generally
+      quite the best&mdash;that in &ldquo;Barlasch&rdquo; he reached his high-water mark.
+      The short stories, comprised in the volume entitled &ldquo;Tomaso's Fortune,&rdquo;
+       were published after his death. In every case, the <i>locale</i> they
+      describe was known to Merriman personally. At the Monastery of Montserrat&mdash;whence
+      the monk in &ldquo;A Small World&rdquo; saw the accident to the diligencia&mdash;the
+      author had made a stay of some days. The Farlingford of &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo; is
+      Orford in Suffolk: the French scenes, as has been said, Merriman had
+      visited with Mr. Weyman, whose &ldquo;Abbess of Vlaye&rdquo; they also suggested. The
+      curious may still find the original of the Hôtel Gemosac in Paris&mdash;not
+      far from the Palais d'Orsay Hôtel&mdash;&ldquo;between the Rue de Lille and the
+      Boulevard St. Germain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo; was not, in a sense, Merriman's last novel. He left at his
+      death about a dozen completed chapters, and the whole plot carefully
+      mapped out, of yet another Spanish book, which dealt with the Spain of the
+      Peninsular War of 1808-14. These chapters, which were destroyed by the
+      author's desire, were of excellent promise, and written with great vigour
+      and spirit. His last trip was taken, in connection with this book, to the
+      country of Sir Arthur Wellesley's exploits. The plot of the story was
+      concerned with a case of mistaken identity; the sketch of a Guerilla
+      leader, Pedro&mdash;bearing some affinity to the Concepcion Vara of &ldquo;In
+      Kedar's Tents&rdquo;&mdash;was especially happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been seen that Merriman was not the class of author who &ldquo;sits in
+      Fleet Street and writes news from the front.&rdquo; He strongly believed in the
+      value of personal impressions, and scarcely less in the value of first
+      impressions. In his own case, the correctness of his first impressions&mdash;what
+      he himself called laughingly his <i>&ldquo;coup d'oeil&rdquo;</i>&mdash;is in a
+      measure proved by a note-book, now lying before the writers, in which he
+      recorded his views of Bastia and the Corsicans after a very brief
+      acquaintance&mdash;that view requiring scarcely any modification when
+      first impressions had been exchanged for real knowledge and experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As to his methods of writing, in the case of all his novels, except the
+      four early suppressed ones, he invariably followed the plan of drawing out
+      the whole plot and a complete synopsis of every chapter before he began to
+      write the book at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Partly as a result of this plan perhaps, but more as a result of great
+      natural facility in writing, his manuscripts were often without a single
+      erasure for many pages; and a typewriter was really a superfluity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is certainly true to say that no author ever had more pleasure in his
+      art than Merriman. The fever and the worry which accompany many literary
+      productions he never knew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among the professional critics he had neither personal friends nor
+      personal foes; and accepted their criticisms&mdash;hostile or favourable&mdash;with
+      perfect serenity and open-mindedness. He was, perhaps, if anything, only
+      too ready to alter his work in accordance with their advice: he always
+      said that he owed them much; and admired their perspicuity in detecting a
+      promise in his earliest books, which he denied finding there himself. His
+      invincible modesty made him ready to accept not only professional
+      criticism but&mdash;a harder thing&mdash;the advice of critics on the
+      hearth. It was out of compliance with such a domestic criticism that the
+      <i>dénouement</i> in &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; was re-written as it now stands, the
+      scene of the attack on the Castle being at first wholly different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The jealousy and bitterness which are supposed to be inseparable from the
+      literary life certainly never affected Merriman's. He had no trace of such
+      feelings in his nature. Of one who is known to the public exclusively
+      through his writings, it may seem strange&mdash;but it is not the less
+      true&mdash;to say that his natural bent was not to the life of a literary
+      man, but to a life of action, and that it was fate, rather than
+      inclination, which made him express himself in words instead of deeds. A
+      writer's books are generally his best biography: the &ldquo;strong, quiet man,&rdquo;
+       whose forte was to do much and say nothing; who, like Marcos Sarrion,
+      loved the free and plain life of the field and the open, was a natural
+      hero for Merriman, &ldquo;as finding there unconsciously some image of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To any other biography he was strongly opposed. His dislike of the
+      advertisement and the self-advertisement of the interview and the personal
+      paragraph deepened with time. He held strongly and consistently, as he
+      held all his opinions, that a writer should be known to the public by his
+      books, and by his books only. One of his last expressed wishes was that
+      there should be no record of his private life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is respect for that wish which here stays the present writers' pen.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      E.F.S.
+    </h3>
+    <h3>
+      S.G.T.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <i>July</i> 1909.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was, not so many years ago, called the Rue de l'Empire, but republics
+      are proverbially sensitive. Once they are established they become morbidly
+      desirous of obliterating a past wherein no republic flourished. The street
+      is therefore dedicated to St. Gingolphe to-day. To-morrow? Who can tell?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is presumably safe to take it for granted that you are located in the
+      neighbourhood of the Louvre, on the north side of the river which is so
+      unimportant a factor to Paris. For all good Englishmen have been, or hope
+      in the near future to be, located near this spot. All good Americans, we
+      are told, relegate the sojourn to a more distant future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bridge to cross is that of the Holy Fathers. So called to-day. Once
+      upon a time&mdash;but no matter. Bridges are peculiarly liable to change
+      in troubled times. The Rue St. Gingolphe is situated between the Boulevard
+      St. Germain and Quai Voltaire. One hears with equal facility the low-toned
+      boom of the steamers' whistle upon the river, and the crack of whips in
+      the boulevard. Once across the bridge, turn to the right, and go along the
+      Quay, between the lime-trees and the bookstalls. You will probably go
+      slowly because of the bookstalls. No one worth talking to could help doing
+      so. Then turn to the left, and after a few paces you will find upon your
+      right hand the Rue St. Gingolphe. It is noted in the Directory &ldquo;Botot&rdquo;
+       that this street is one hundred and forty-five mètres long; and who would
+      care to contradict &ldquo;Botot,&rdquo; or even to throw the faintest shadow of a
+      doubt upon his statement? He has probably measured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If your fair and economical spouse should think of repairing to the
+      Bon-Marché to secure some of those wonderful linen pillow-cases (at one
+      franc forty) with your august initial embroidered on the centre with a
+      view of impressing the sleeper's cheek, she will pass the end of the Rue
+      St. Gingolphe on her way&mdash;provided the cabman be honest. There! You
+      cannot help finding it now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The street itself is a typical Parisian street of one hundred and
+      forty-five mètres. There is room for a baker's, a café, a bootmaker's, and
+      a tobacconist who sells very few stamps. The Parisians do not write many
+      letters. They say they have not time. But the tobacconist makes up for the
+      meanness of his contribution to the inland revenue of one department by a
+      generous aid to the other. He sells a vast number of cigarettes and cigars
+      of the very worst quality. And it is upon the worst quality that the
+      Government makes the largest profit. It is in every sense of the word a
+      weed which grows as lustily as any of its compeers in and around Oran,
+      Algiers, and Bonah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rue St. Gingolphe is within a stone's-throw of the École des
+      Beaux-Arts, and in the very centre of a remarkably cheap and yet
+      respectable quarter. Thus there are many young men occupying apartments in
+      close proximity&mdash;and young men do not mind much what they smoke,
+      especially provincial young men living in Paris. They feel it incumbent
+      upon them to be constantly smoking something&mdash;just to show that they
+      are Parisians, true sons of the pavement, knowing how to live. And their
+      brightest hopes are in all truth realised, because theirs is certainly a
+      reckless life, flavoured as it is with &ldquo;number one&rdquo; tobacco, and those
+      &ldquo;little corporal&rdquo; cigarettes which are enveloped in the blue paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist's shop is singularly convenient. It has, namely, an
+      entrance at the back, as well as that giving on to the street of St.
+      Gingolphe. This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the
+      stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perinère, a lady who paints
+      the magic word &ldquo;Modes&rdquo; beneath her name on the door-post of number
+      seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her bonnets
+      to the farthest corner of Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist is a large man, much given to perspiration. In fact, one
+      may safely make the statement that he perspires annually from the middle
+      of April to the second or even third week in October. In consequence of
+      this habit he wears no collar, and a man without a collar does not start
+      fairly on the social race. It is always best to make inquiries before
+      condemning a man who wears no collar. There is probably a very good
+      reason, as in the case of Mr. Jacquetot, but it is to be feared that few
+      pause to seek it. One need not seek the reason with much assiduity in this
+      instance, because the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe is always
+      prepared to explain it at length. French people are thus. They talk of
+      things, and take pleasure in so doing, which we, on this side of the
+      Channel, treat with a larger discretion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Jacquetot does not even wear a collar on Sunday, for the simple reason
+      that Sunday is to him as other days. He attends no place of worship,
+      because he acknowledges but one god&mdash;the god of most Frenchmen&mdash;his
+      inner man. His pleasures are gastronomical, his sorrows stomachic. The
+      little shop is open early and late, Sundays, week-days, and holidays.
+      Moreover, the tobacconist&mdash;Mr. Jacquetot himself&mdash;is always at
+      his post, on the high chair behind the counter, near the window, where he
+      can see into the street. This constant attention to business is almost
+      phenomenal, because Frenchmen who worship the god of Mr. Jacquetot love to
+      pay tribute on fête-days at one of the little restaurants on the Place at
+      Versailles, at Duval's, or even in the Palais Royal. Mr. Jacquetot would
+      have loved nothing better than a pilgrimage to any one of these shrines,
+      but he was tied to the little tobacco store. Not by the chains of
+      commerce. Oh, no! When rallied by his neighbours for such an
+      unenterprising love of his own hearth, he merely shrugged his heavy
+      shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you?&rdquo; he would say; &ldquo;one has one's affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now the affairs of Mr. Jacquetot were, in the days with which we have to
+      do, like many things on this earth, inasmuch as they were not what they
+      seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would be inexpedient, for reasons closely connected with the
+      tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, as well as with other gentlemen
+      still happily with us in the flesh, to be too exact as to dates. Suffice
+      it, therefore, to say that it was only a few years ago that Mr. Jacquetot
+      sat one evening as usual in his little shop. It happened to be a Tuesday
+      evening, which is fortunate, because it was on Tuesdays and Saturdays that
+      the little barber from round the corner called and shaved the vast cheeks
+      of the tobacconist. Mr. Jacquetot was therefore quite presentable&mdash;doubly
+      so, indeed, because it was yet March, and he had not yet entered upon his
+      summer season.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little street was very quiet. There was no through traffic, and folks
+      living in this quarter of Paris usually carry their own parcels. It was
+      thus quite easy to note the approach of any passenger, when such had once
+      turned the corner. Some one was approaching now, and Mr. Jacquetot threw
+      away the stump of a cheap cigar. One would almost have said that he
+      recognised the step at a considerable distance. Young people are in the
+      habit of considering that when one gets old and stout one loses in
+      intelligence; but this is not always the case. One is apt to expect little
+      from a fat man; but that is often a mistake. Mr. Jacquetot weighed
+      seventeen stone, but he was eminently intelligent. He had recognised the
+      footstep while it was yet seventy mètres away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments a gentleman of middle height paused in front of the shop,
+      noted that it was a tobacconist's, and entered, carrying an unstamped
+      letter with some ostentation. It must, by the way, be remembered that in
+      France postage-stamps are to be bought at all tobacconists'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer's actions were characterised by a certain carelessness, as
+      if he were going through a formula&mdash;perfunctorily&mdash;without
+      admitting its necessity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded to Mr. Jacquetot, and rather a pleasant smile flickered for a
+      moment across his face. He was a singularly well-made man, of medium
+      height, with straight, square shoulders and small limbs. He wore
+      spectacles, and as he looked at one straight in the face there was a
+      singular contraction of the eyes which hardly amounted to a cast&mdash;moreover,
+      it was momentary. It was precisely the look of a hawk when its hood is
+      suddenly removed in full daylight. This resemblance was furthered by the
+      fact that the man's profile was birdlike. He was clean-shaven, and there
+      was in his sleek head and determined little face that smooth, compact
+      self-complacency which is to be noted in the head of a hawk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The face was small, like that of a Greek bust, but in expression it
+      suggested a yet older people. There was that mystic depth of expression
+      which comes from ancient Egypt. No one feature was obtrusive&mdash;all
+      were chiselled with equal delicacy; and yet there was only one point of
+      real beauty in the entire countenance. The mouth was perfect. But the man
+      with a perfect mouth is usually one whom it will be found expedient to
+      avoid. Without a certain allowance of sensuality no man is genial&mdash;without
+      a little weakness there is no kind heart. This Frenchman's mouth was not,
+      however, obtrusively faultless. It was perfect in its design, but,
+      somehow, many people failed to take note of the fact. It is so with the
+      &ldquo;many,&rdquo; one finds. The human world is so blind that at times it would be
+      almost excusable to harbour the suspicion that animals see more. There may
+      be something in that instinct by which dogs, horses, and cats distinguish
+      between friends and foes, detect sympathy, discover antipathy. It is
+      possible that they see things in the human face to which our eyes are
+      blinded&mdash;intentionally and mercifully blinded. If some of us were a
+      little more observant, a few of the human combinations which we bring
+      about might perhaps be less egregiously mistaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was probably the form of the lips that lent pleasantness to the smile
+      with which Mr. Jacquetot was greeted, rather than the expression of the
+      velvety eyes, which had in reality no power of smiling at all. They were
+      sad eyes, like those of the women one sees on the banks of the Upper Nile,
+      which never alter in expression&mdash;eyes that do not seem to be busy
+      with this life at all, but fully occupied with something else: something
+      beyond to-morrow or behind yesterday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived?&rdquo; inquired the new-comer in a voice of some distinction.
+      It was a full, rich voice, and the French it spoke was not the French of
+      Mr. Jacquetot, nor, indeed, of the Rue St. Gingolphe. It was the language
+      one sometimes hears in an old <i>château</i> lost in the depths of the
+      country&mdash;the vast unexplored rural districts of France&mdash;where
+      the bearers of dangerously historical names live out their lives with a
+      singular suppression and patience. They are either biding their time or
+      else they are content with the past and the part played by their ancestors
+      therein. For there is an old French and a new. In Paris the new is spoken&mdash;the
+      very newest. Were it anything but French it would be intolerably vulgar;
+      as it is, it is merely neat and intensely expressive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived, sir,&rdquo; said the tobacconist, and then he seemed to
+      recollect himself, for he repeated:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived,&rdquo; without the respectful addition which had slipped out
+      by accident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new arrival took out his watch&mdash;a small one of beautiful
+      workmanship, the watch of a lady&mdash;and consulted it. His movements
+      were compact and rapid. He would have made a splendid light-weight boxer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said shortly, &ldquo;is the way they fail. They do not understand the
+      necessity of exactitude. The people&mdash;see you, Mr. Jacquetot, they
+      fail because they have no exactitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am of the people,&rdquo; moving ponderously on his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Essentially so. I know it, my friend. But I have taught you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so. But is it safe to stand there in the full day? Will you not
+      pass in? The room is ready; the lamp is lighted. There is an agent of the
+      police always at the end of the street now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, bah!&rdquo; and he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. &ldquo;I am not afraid
+      of them. There is only one thing to be feared, Citizen Jacquetot&mdash;the
+      press. The press and the people, <i>bien entendu</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you despise the people why do you use them?&rdquo; asked Jacquetot abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In default of better, my friend. If one has not steam one uses the river
+      to turn the mill-wheel. The river is slow; sometimes it is too weak,
+      sometimes too strong. One never has full control over it, but it turns the
+      wheel&mdash;it turns the wheel, brother Jacquetot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And eventually sweeps away the miller,&rdquo; suggested the tobacconist
+      lightly. It must be remembered that though stout he was intelligent. Had
+      he not been so it is probable that this conversation would never have
+      taken place. The dark-eyed man did not look like one who would have the
+      patience to deal with stupid people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the pleasant smile flickered like the light of a fire in a dark
+      place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;is the affair of the miller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; conceded Jacquetot, meditatively selecting a new cigar from a box
+      which he had reached without moving from his chair, &ldquo;but the people&mdash;they
+      are fools, hein!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; with a protesting shrug, as if deprecating the enunciation of such a
+      platitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he passed through into a little room behind the shop&mdash;a little
+      room where no daylight penetrated, because there was no window to it. It
+      depended for daylight upon the shop, with which it communicated by a door
+      of which the upper half was glass. But this glass was thickly curtained
+      with the material called Turkey-red, threefold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the tobacconist was left alone in his shop, smoking gravely. There are
+      some people like oysters, inasmuch as they leave an after-taste behind
+      them. The man who had just gone into the little room at the rear of the
+      tobacconist's shop of the Rue St. Gingolphe in Paris was one of these. And
+      the taste he left behind him was rather disquieting. One was apt to feel
+      that there was a mistake somewhere in the ordering of human affairs, and
+      that this man was one of its victims.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes two men passed hastily through the shop into the little
+      room, with scarcely so much as a nod for Mr. Jacquetot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II. TOOLS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The first man to enter the room was clad in a blouse of coarse grey cloth
+      which reached down to his knees. On his head he wore a black silk cap,
+      very much pressed down and exceedingly greasy on the right side. This was
+      to be accounted for by the fact that he used his right shoulder more than
+      the left in that state of life in which he had been placed. It was not
+      what we, who do not kill, would consider a pleasant state. He was, in
+      fact, a slayer of beasts&mdash;a foreman at the slaughter-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is, perhaps, fortunate that Antoine Lerac is of no great prominence in
+      this record, and of none in his official capacity at the slaughter-house.
+      But the man is worthy of some small attention, because he was so
+      essentially of the nineteenth century&mdash;so distinctly a product of the
+      latter end of what is, for us at least, the most important cycle of years
+      the world has passed through. He was a man wearing the blouse with
+      ostentation, and glorying in the greasy cap: professing his unwillingness
+      to exchange the one for an ermine robe or the other for a crown. As a
+      matter of fact, he invariably purchased the largest and roughest blouse to
+      be found, and his cap was unnecessarily soaked with suet. He was a knight
+      of industry of the very worst description&mdash;a braggart, a talker, a
+      windbag. He preached, or rather he shrieked, the doctrine of equality, but
+      the equality he sought was that which would place him on a par with his
+      superiors, while in no way benefiting those beneath him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one time, when he had first come into contact with the dark-eyed man
+      who now sat at the table watching him curiously, there had been a struggle
+      for mastery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; he had said with considerable heat, &ldquo;as good as you. That is all I
+      wish to demonstrate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the other with that calm and assured air of superiority
+      which the people once tried in vain to stamp out with the guillotine. &ldquo;No,
+      it is not. You want to demonstrate that you are superior, and you cannot
+      do it. You say that you have as much right to walk on the pavement as I. I
+      admit it. In your heart you want to prove that you have <i>more</i>, and
+      you cannot do it. I could wear your blouse with comfort, but you could not
+      put on my hat or my gloves without making yourself ridiculous. But&mdash;that
+      is not the question. Let us get to business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And in time the butcher succumbed, as he was bound to do, to the man whom
+      he shrewdly suspected of being an aristocrat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who entered the room immediately afterwards was of a very different
+      type. His mode of entry was of another description. Whereas the man of
+      blood swaggered in with an air of nervous truculence, as if he were afraid
+      that some one was desirous of disputing his equality, the next comer crept
+      in softly, and closed the door with accuracy. He was the incarnation of
+      benevolence&mdash;in the best sense of the word, a sweet old man&mdash;looking
+      out upon the world through large tinted spectacles with a beam which could
+      not be otherwise than blind to all motes. In earlier years his face might,
+      perhaps, have been a trifle hard in its contour; but Time, the lubricator,
+      had eased some of the corners, and it was now the seat of kindness and
+      love. He bowed ceremoniously to the first comer, and his manner seemed
+      rather to breathe of fraternity than equality. As he bowed he mentioned
+      the gentleman's name in such loving tones that no greeting could have been
+      heartier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Citizen Morot,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher, with more haste than dignity, assumed the chair which stood
+      at the opposite end of the table to that occupied by the Citizen Morot. He
+      had evidently hurried in first in order to secure that seat. From his
+      pocket he produced a somewhat soiled paper, which he threw with
+      exaggerated carelessness across the table. His manner was not entirely
+      free from a suggestion of patronage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have we here?&rdquo; inquired the first comer, who had not hitherto opened
+      his lips, with a deep interest which might possibly have been ironical. He
+      was just the sort of man to indulge in irony for his own satisfaction. He
+      unfolded the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a receipt for five hundred rifles with bayonets and
+      shoulder-straps complete. 'Received of the Citizen Morot five hundred
+      rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.&mdash;Antoine Lerac.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he said gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of the
+      little iron stove behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I judged it best to be strictly business-like,&rdquo; said the butcher, with
+      moderately well-simulated carelessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But yes, Monsieur Lerac,&rdquo; with a shrug. &ldquo;We of the Republic distrust each
+      other so completely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The brave Lerac,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is a man of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot ignored this observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, turning to Lerac, &ldquo;you have them stored in a safe place?
+      There is absolutely no doubt of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely none.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are under my own eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One
+      cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we bought,
+      the ammunition we must steal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are good rifles&mdash;they are English,&rdquo; said the butcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready to
+      place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as
+      themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman laughed&mdash;a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably
+      encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last Friday's meeting,&rdquo; Lerac said shortly, &ldquo;we enrolled forty new
+      members. We now number four hundred and two in our <i>arrondissement</i>
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And four hundred hardy companions they are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I should imagine&rdquo; (very gravely).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Four hundred strong men,&rdquo; broke in the old gentleman rather hastily. &ldquo;Ah,
+      but that is already a power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; opined Lerac sententiously, &ldquo;the strong man who is the power.
+      Riches are nothing; birth is nothing. This is the day of force. Force is
+      everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything,&rdquo; acquiesced Morot fervently. He was consulting a small
+      note-book, wherein he jotted down some figures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Four hundred and two,&rdquo; he muttered as he wrote, &ldquo;up to Friday night, in
+      the <i>arrondissement</i> of the citizen&mdash;the good citizen&mdash;Antoine
+      Lerac.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher looked up with a doubtful expression upon his coarse face. His
+      great brutal lips twitched, and he was on the point of speaking when the
+      Citizen Morot's velvety eyes met his gaze with a quiet smile in which
+      arrogance and innocence were mingled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said the last-mentioned, turning affably to the old gentleman,
+      &ldquo;let us have the report of the reverend Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; laughed Lerac, without attempting to conceal the contempt that was
+      in his soul, &ldquo;the Church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman spread out his hands in mild deprecation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;we are under a shadow. I do not even dare to wear my
+      cassock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in a valley of shadow, my reverend friend,&rdquo; said the butcher,
+      with visible exultation, &ldquo;to which the sun will never penetrate now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot laughed at this pleasantry, while the old man against
+      whom it was directed bowed his head patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said the laugher, with a certain air of patronage, &ldquo;the Church
+      is of some use still. She paid for those rifles, and she will pay for the
+      ammunition&mdash;is it not so, my father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without doubt&mdash;without doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to mention,&rdquo; continued the other, &ldquo;many contributions towards our
+      general fund. The force that is supplied by the strong right arm of the
+      people is, one finds, a force constantly in need of substantial
+      replenishment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; exclaimed the butcher, emphatically banging his fist down upon the
+      table, &ldquo;why does she do it? That is what I want to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old priest glanced furtively towards Morot, and then his face assumed
+      an air of childish bewilderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said guilelessly, &ldquo;who can tell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who, indeed!&rdquo; chimed in Morot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher was pleased with himself. He sat upright, and, banging the
+      table a second time, he looked round defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Morot, in an indifferent way which was frequently
+      characteristic, &ldquo;I do not see that it matters much. The money is good. It
+      buys rifles, and it places them in the hands of the Citizen Lerac and his
+      hardy companions. And when all is said and done, when the cartridges are
+      burnt and a New Commune is raised, what does it matter whose money bought
+      the rifles, and with what object the money was supplied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
+      conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
+      upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for the
+      sake of peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets&mdash;causing
+      Morot to wince visibly&mdash;and acquiesced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he added cunningly, &ldquo;the Church, see you&mdash;Ach! it is deep&mdash;it
+      is treacherous. Never trust the Church!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
+      singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man and
+      said&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you nothing to report to us&mdash;my father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of great importance,&rdquo; replied he humbly. &ldquo;All is going on well.
+      We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
+      and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
+      in order to carry out the&mdash;the&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;the loan
+      of the ammunition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha!&rdquo; laughed the butcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next week?&rdquo; he said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;on Tuesday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher here rose and ostentatiously dragged out a watch from the
+      depths of his blouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have committee at seven o'clock. And I shall dine
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Morot gravely. &ldquo;Dine first. Take good care of yourself,
+      citizen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; was the reply, delivered with a little nod in answer to Lerac's
+      curt farewell bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher walked noisily through the shop&mdash;heavy with
+      responsibility&mdash;weighted with the sense of his own importance to the
+      world in general and to France in particular. Had he walked less noisily
+      he might have overheard the soft laugh of the old priest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot did not laugh. He was not a laughing man. But a fine,
+      disdainful smile passed over his face, scarce lighting it up at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an utter fool the man is!&rdquo; he said impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;sir,&rdquo; replied the old man, &ldquo;but if he were less so it would be
+      difficult to manage him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sure. I always prefer to deal with knaves than with fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is because your Highness knows how to outwit them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No titles&mdash;my father,&rdquo; said the Citizen Morot quietly. &ldquo;No titles
+      here, if you please. Tell me, are you quite sure of this scum&mdash;this
+      Lerac?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As sure as one can be of anything that comes from the streets. He is an
+      excitable, bumptious, quarrelsome man; but he has a certain influence with
+      those beneath him, although it seems hard to realise that there are such.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! you are right! But a republic is a social manure-heap&mdash;that
+      which is on the top is not pleasant, and the stuff below&mdash;ugh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manner of the two men had quite changed. He who was called Morot leant
+      back in his seat and stretched his arms out wearily. There is no disguise
+      like animation; when that is laid aside we see the real man or the real
+      woman. In repose this Frenchman was not cheerful to look upon. He was not
+      sanguine, and a French pessimist is the worst thing of the kind that is to
+      be found.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind the departing Lerac, the old priest seemed
+      to throw off suddenly quite a number of years. His voice, when next he
+      spoke, was less senile, his movements were brisker. He was, in a word,
+      less harmless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Jacquetot had finished his dinner, brought in from a neighbouring
+      restaurant all hot, and was slumberously enjoying a very strong-smelling
+      cigar, when the door of the little room opened at length, and the two men
+      went out together into the dimly-lighted street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III. WITHOUT REST
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Half-way down Fleet Street, on the left-hand side, stands the church of
+      St. Dunstan-in-the-West. Around its grimy foundations there seethes a
+      struggling, toiling race of men&mdash;not only from morning till night,
+      but throughout the twenty-four hours. Within sound of this church bell a
+      hundred printing-presses throb out their odorous broadsheets to be
+      despatched to every part of the world. Day and night, week in week out,
+      the human writing-machines, and those other machines which are almost
+      human (and better than human in some points) hurry through their allotted
+      tasks, and ignore the saintly shadow cast upon them by the spire of St.
+      Dunstan. This is indeed the centre of the world: the hub from whence
+      spring the spokes of the vast wheel of life. For to this point all things
+      over the world converge by a vast web of wire, railroad, coach road, and
+      steamer track. Upon wings that boast of greater speed than the wind can
+      compass come to this point the voices of our kin in farthest lands. News&mdash;news&mdash;news.
+      News from the East of events occurring in the afternoon&mdash;scan it over
+      and flash it westward, where it will be read on the morning of the same
+      day! News in every tongue to be translated and brought into shape&mdash;while
+      the solemn church clock tells his tale in deep voice, audible above the
+      din and scurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From hurried scribbler to pale compositor, and behold, the news is bawled
+      all over London! Such work as this goes on for ever around the church of
+      St. Dunstan. Scribblers come and scribblers go; compositors come to their
+      work young and hopeful, they leave it bent and poisoned, yet the work goes
+      on. Each day the pace grows quicker, each day some new means of rapid
+      propagation is discovered, and each day life becomes harder to live. One
+      morning, perhaps, a scribbler is absent from his post&mdash;&ldquo;Brain-fever,
+      complete rest; a wreck.&rdquo; For years his writings have been read by
+      thousands daily. A new man takes the vacant chair&mdash;he has been
+      waiting more or less impatiently for this&mdash;and the thousands are none
+      the wiser. One night the head compositor presses his black hand to his
+      sunken chest, and staggers home. &ldquo;And time too&mdash;he's had his turn,&rdquo;
+       mutters the second compositor as he thinks of the extra five shillings a
+      week. No doubt he is right. Every dog his day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nearly opposite to the church stands a tall narrow house of dirty red
+      brick, and it is with this house that we have to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At seven o'clock, one evening some years ago&mdash;when heads now grey
+      were brown, when eyes now dim were bright&mdash;the Strand was in its
+      usual state of turmoil. Carriage followed carriage. Seedy clerks hustled
+      past portly merchants&mdash;not their own masters, <i>bien entendu</i>,
+      but those of other seedy clerks. Carriages and foot-passengers were alike
+      going westward. All were leaving behind them the day and the busy city&mdash;some
+      after a few hours devoted to the perusal of <i>Times</i> and <i>Gazette</i>;
+      others fagged and weary from a long day of dusty books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! those were prosperous days in the City. Days when men of but a few
+      years' standing rolled out to Clapham or Highgate behind a pair of horses.
+      Days when books were often represented by a bank-book and a roughly-kept
+      day-book. What need to keep mighty ledgers when profits are great and
+      returns quick in their returning?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the pedestrians made their way along the narrow pavement some of them
+      glanced at the door of the tall red-brick house and read the inscription
+      on a brass plate screwed thereon. This consisted of two mystic words: <i>The
+      Beacon</i>. There was, however, in reality, no mystery about it. The <i>Beacon</i>
+      was a newspaper, published weekly, and the clock of St. Dunstan's striking
+      seven told the end of another week. The publishing day was past; another
+      week with its work and pleasure was to be faced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From early morning until six o'clock in the evening this narrow doorway
+      and passage had been crowded by a heaving, swearing, laughing mass of more
+      or less dilapidated humanity interested in the retail sale of newspapers.
+      At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on the staff of
+      the <i>Beacon</i>, had taken his station at the door, in order to greet
+      would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging words: &ldquo;Sold hout!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling
+      &ldquo;hout&rdquo; of the <i>Beacon</i> every Tuesday evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At seven o'clock Mrs. Bander emerged from her den on the fourth floor,
+      like a portly good-natured spider, and with a broom proceeded to attack
+      the dust shaken from the boots of the journalistic fraternity, with noisy
+      energy. After that she polished the door-plate; and peace reigned within
+      the narrow house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the second floor there was a small room with windows looking out into a
+      narrow lane behind the house. It was a singularly quiet room; the door
+      opened and shut without sound or vibration; double windows insured
+      immunity from the harrowing cries of such enterprising merchants as
+      exercised their lungs and callings in the narrow lane beneath. A certain
+      sense of ease and comfort imperceptibly crept over the senses of persons
+      entering this tiny apartment. It must have been in the atmosphere; for
+      some rooms more luxuriously furnished are without it. It certainly does
+      not lie in the furniture&mdash;this imperceptible sense of companionship;
+      it does not lurk in the curtains. Some mansions know it, and many
+      cottages. It is even to be met with in the tiny cabin of a coasting
+      vessel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This diminutive room, despite its lack of sunlight, was such as one might
+      wish to sit in. A broad low table stood in the middle of the floor, and on
+      it lay the mellow light of a shaded lamp. At this table two men were
+      seated opposite to each other. One was writing, slowly and easily, the
+      other was idling with the calm restfulness of a man who has never worked
+      very hard. He was rolling his pencil up to the top of his blotting-pad,
+      and allowing it to come down again in accordance with the rules of
+      gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was Mr. Bodery's habit when thoughtful; and after all, there was no
+      great harm in it. Mr. Bodery was editor and proprietor of the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      The amusing and somewhat satirical article which appeared weekly under the
+      heading of &ldquo;Light&rdquo; was penned by the chubby hand at that moment engaged
+      with the pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan, sub-editor, was even stouter than his chief. Laughter was his
+      most prominent characteristic. He laughed over &ldquo;Light&rdquo; when in its embryo
+      state, he laughed when the <i>Beacon</i> sold out at six o'clock on
+      Tuesday evenings. He laughed when the printing-machine went wrong on
+      Monday afternoon, and&mdash;most wonderful of all&mdash;he laughed at his
+      own jokes, in which exercise he was usually alone. His jokes were not of
+      the first force. Mr. Morgan was the author of the slightly laboured and
+      weighty Parliamentary articles on the first page. He never joked on paper,
+      which is a gift apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two gentlemen were in no way of brilliant intellect. They had their
+      share of sound, practical common-sense, which is in itself a splendid
+      substitute. Fortune had come to them (as it comes to most men when it
+      comes at all) without any apparent reason. Mr. Bodery had supplied the
+      capital, and Mr. Morgan's share of the undertaking was added in the form
+      of a bustling, hollow energy. The <i>Beacon</i> was lighted, so to speak.
+      It burnt in a dull and somewhat flickering manner for some years; then a
+      new hand fed the flame, and its light spread afar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was from pure good nature that Mr. Bodery held out a helping hand to
+      the son of his old friend, Walter Vellacott, when that youth appeared one
+      day at the office of the <i>Beacon</i>, and in an off-hand manner
+      announced that he was seeking employment. Like many actions performed from
+      a similar motive, Mr. Bodery's kindness of heart met with its reward.
+      Young Christian Vellacott developed a remarkable talent for journalistic
+      literature&mdash;in fact, he was fortunate enough to have found, at the
+      age of twenty-two, his avocation in life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gradually, as the years wore on, the influence of the young fellow's
+      superior intellect made itself felt. Prom the position of a mere
+      supernumerary, he worked his way upwards, taking on to his shoulders one
+      duty after another&mdash;bearing the weight, quietly and confidently, of
+      one responsibility after another. This exactly suited Mr. Bodery and his
+      sub-editor. There was very little of the slave in the composition of
+      either. They delighted in an easy, luxurious life, with just enough work
+      to impart a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction. It suited Christian
+      Vellacott also. In a few weeks he found his level&mdash;in a few months he
+      began rising to higher levels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was an only son; the only child of a brilliant father whose name was
+      known in every court in Europe as that of a harum-scarum diplomatist, who
+      could have done great things in his short life if he had wished to. It is
+      from only sons that Fortune selects her favourites. Men who have no
+      brothers to share their amusements turn to serious matters early in life.
+      Christian Vellacott soon discovered that a head was required at the office
+      of the <i>Beacon</i> to develop the elements of success undoubtedly lying
+      within the journal, and that the owner of such a head could in time
+      dictate his own terms to the easy-going proprietor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unsparingly he devoted the whole of his exceptional energies to the work
+      before him. He lived in and for it. Each night he went home fagged and
+      weary; but each morning saw him return to it with undaunted spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Human nature, however, is exhaustible. The influence of a strong mind over
+      a strong body is great, but it is nevertheless limited. The <i>Beacon</i>
+      had reached a large circulation, but its slave was worn out. Two years
+      without a holiday&mdash;two years of hurried, hard brain-work had left
+      their mark. It is often so when a man finds his avocation too early. He is
+      too hurried, works too hard, and collapses; or he becomes self-satisfied,
+      over-confident, and unbearable. Fortunately for Christian Vellacott he was
+      devoid of conceit, which is like the scaffolding round a church-spire,
+      reaching higher and falling first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was also a &ldquo;home&rdquo; influence at work. When Christian passed out of
+      the narrow doorway, and turned his face westward, his day's work was by no
+      means over, as will be shown hereafter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mr. Bodery rolled his pencil up and down his blotting-pad, he was
+      slowly realising the fact that something must be done. Presently he looked
+      up, and his pleasant eyes rested on the bent head of his sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Morgan,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have been thinking&mdash;Seems to me Vellacott wants
+      a rest! He's played out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan wiped his pen vigorously upon his coat, just beneath the
+      shoulder, and sat back in his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;he has not been up to the mark for some time. But you
+      will find difficulty in making him take a holiday. He is a devil for
+      working&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This &ldquo;ha, ha!&rdquo; did not mean very much. There was no mirth in it. It was a
+      species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his
+      remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will ring for him now and see what he says about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong. Almost
+      instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without said,
+      &ldquo;Yess'r.&rdquo; A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at attention in
+      the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Mr. Vellacott gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;sir!&rdquo; In a tone which seemed to ask: &ldquo;Now <i>is</i> it likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the shop, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask him to come here, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yess'r.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his
+      heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head
+      of the stairs. Then he proceeded to slide down the banister, to the
+      trifling detriment of his waistcoat. As he reached the end of his perilous
+      journey a door opened at the foot of the stairs, and a man's form became
+      discernible in the dim light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that the way you generally come downstairs, Wilson?&rdquo; asked a voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the quickest way, sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite; there is one quicker, which you will discover some day if you
+      overbalance at the top!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery wishes to see you, please sir!&rdquo; The small boy's manner was
+      very different from what it had been outside the door upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; replied Vellacott, putting on the coat he had been carrying
+      over his arm. A peculiar smooth rapidity characterised all his movements.
+      At school he had been considered a very &ldquo;clean&rdquo; fielder. The cleanness was
+      there still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The preternaturally sharp boy&mdash;sharp as only London boys are&mdash;watched
+      the lithe form vanish up the stairs; then he wagged his head very wisely
+      and said to himself in a patronising way:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's the right sort, he is&mdash;no chalk there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Subsequently he balanced his diminutive person full length upon the
+      balustrade, and proceeded to haul himself laboriously, hand over hand, to
+      the top.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Christian Vellacott had passed into the editor's room. The
+      light of the lamp was driven downwards upon the table, but the reflection
+      of it rose and illuminated his face. It was a fairly handsome face, with
+      eyes just large enough to be keen and quick without being dreamy. The
+      slight fair moustache was not enough to hide the mouth, which was refined,
+      and singularly immobile. He glanced at Mr. Bodery, as he entered, quickly
+      and comprehensively, and then turned his eyes towards Mr. Morgan. His face
+      was very still and unemotional, but it was pale, and his eyes were deeply
+      sunken. A keen observer would have noticed, in comparing the three men,
+      that there was something about the youngest which was lacking in his
+      elders. It lay in the direct gaze of his eyes, in the carriage of his
+      head, in the small, motionless mouth. It was what is vaguely called
+      &ldquo;power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Vellacott,&rdquo; said Mr. Brodery. &ldquo;We want to have a consultation.&rdquo;
+       After a short pause he continued: &ldquo;You know, of course, that it is a dull
+      season just now. People do not seem to read the papers in August. Now, we
+      want you to take a holiday. Morgan has been away; I shall go when you come
+      back. Say three weeks or a month. You've been over-working yourself a bit&mdash;burning
+      the candle at both ends, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly at both ends,&rdquo; corrected Vellacott, with a ready smile which
+      entirely transformed his face. &ldquo;Hardly at both ends&mdash;at one end in a
+      draught, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha! Very good,&rdquo; chimed in Mr. Morgan the irrepressible. &ldquo;At one end
+      in a draught&mdash;that is like me, only the draught has got inside my
+      cheeks and blown them out instead of in like yours, eh? Ha, ha!&rdquo; And he
+      patted his cheeks affectionately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I care for a holiday just now, thanks,&rdquo; he said slowly,
+      without remembering to call up a smile for Mr. Morgan's benefit.
+      Unconsciously he put his hand to his forehead, which was damp with the
+      heat of the printing-office which he had just left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery gravely, emphasising his remarks with
+      the pencil, &ldquo;you have one thing in life to learn yet&mdash;no doubt you
+      have many, but this one in particular you must learn. Work is not the only
+      thing we are created for&mdash;not the only thing worth living for. It is
+      a necessary evil, that is all. When you have reached my age you will come
+      to look upon it as such. A little enjoyment is good for every one. There
+      are many things to form a brighter side to life. Nature&mdash;travelling&mdash;riding&mdash;rowing&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And love,&rdquo; suggested the sub-editor, placing his hand dramatically on the
+      right side of his broad waistcoat instead of the left. He could afford to
+      joke on the subject now that the grass grew high in the little country
+      churchyard where he had laid his young wife fifteen years before. In those
+      days he was a grave, self-contained man, but that sorrow had entirely
+      changed his nature. The true William Morgan only came out on paper now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was right. Christian had yet to learn a great lesson, and
+      unconsciously he was even now beginning to grasp its meaning. His whole
+      mind was full of his work, and out of those earnest grey eyes his soul was
+      looking at the man who was perhaps saving his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can easily manage it,&rdquo; said the editor, continuing his advantage. &ldquo;I
+      will take over the foreign policy article. The reviewing you can do
+      yourself, as we can always send you the books, and there is no pressing
+      hurry about them. The general work we will manage somehow&mdash;won't we,
+      Morgan?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we will; as well as and perhaps better than he could do it
+      himself, eh? Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But seriously, Vellacott,&rdquo; continued Mr. Bodery, &ldquo;things will go on just
+      as well for a time. When I was young I used to make that mistake too. I
+      thought that no one could manage things like myself, but in time I
+      realised (as you will do some day) that things went on as smoothly when I
+      was away. Depend upon it, my boy, when a man is put on the shelf, worn out
+      and useless, another soon fills his place. You are too young to go on the
+      shelf yet. To please me, Vellacott, go away for three weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind, sir&mdash;&rdquo; began the young fellow, but Mr. Bodery
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, that is settled. Shall we say this day week? That will give
+      you time to make your plans.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a few words of thanks Christian left the room. Vaguely and
+      mechanically he wandered upstairs to his own particular den. It was a
+      disappointing little chamber. The chaos one expects to find on the desk of
+      a literary man was lacking here. No papers lay on the table in artistic
+      disorder. The presiding genius of the room was method&mdash;clear-headed,
+      practical method. The walls were hidden by shelves of books, from the last
+      half-hysterical production of some vain woman to the single-volume work of
+      a man's lifetime. Many of the former were uncut, the latter bore signs of
+      having been read and studied. The companionship of these silent friends
+      brought peace and contentment to the young man's spirit. He sat wearily
+      down, and, leaning his chin upon his folded arms, he thought. Gradually
+      there came into his mind pictures of the fair open country, of rolling
+      hills and quiet valleys, of quiet lanes and running waters. A sudden
+      yearning to breathe God's pure air took possession of his faculties. Mr.
+      Bodery had gained the day. In the room below Mr. Morgan wrote on in his
+      easy, comfortable manner. The editor was still thoughtfully playing with
+      his pencil. The sharp little boy was standing on his head in the passage.
+      At last Mr. Bodery rose from his chair and began his preparations for
+      leaving. As he brushed his hat he looked towards his companion and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recognised that fact some years ago,&rdquo; replied the sub-editor, wiping
+      his pen on his coat. &ldquo;It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV. BURDENED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the
+      westward-wending throng in the Strand. In the midst of the crowd he was
+      alone, as townsmen soon learn to be. The passing faces, the roar of
+      traffic, and the thousand human possibilities of interest around him in no
+      way disturbed his thoughts. In his busy brain the traffic of thought,
+      passing and repassing, crossing and recrossing, went on unaffected by
+      outward things. A modern poet has confessed that his muse loves the
+      pavement&mdash;a bold confession, but most certainly true. Why does talent
+      gravitate to cities? Because there it works its best&mdash;because
+      friction necessarily produces brilliancy. Nature is a great deceiver; she
+      draws us on to admire her insinuating charms, and in the contemplation of
+      them we lose our energy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had been born and bred in cities. The din and roar of life was
+      to him what the voice of the sea is to the sailor. In the midst of crowded
+      humanity he was in his element, and as he walked rapidly along he made his
+      way dexterously through the narrow places without thinking of it. While
+      meditating deeply he was by no means absorbed. In his active life there
+      had been no time for thoughts beyond the present, no leisure for dreaming.
+      He could not afford to be absent-minded. Numbers of men are so situated.
+      Their minds are required at all moments, in full working order, clear and
+      rapid&mdash;ready, shoes on feet and staff in hand, to go whithersoever
+      they may be called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although he was going to the saddest home that ever hung like a mill-stone
+      round a young neck, Christian wasted no time. The glory of the western sky
+      lay ruddily over the river as he emerged from the small streets behind
+      Chelsea and faced the broad placid stream. Presently he stopped opposite
+      the door of a small red-brick house, which formed the corner of a little
+      terrace facing the river and a quiet street running inland from it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a latch-key he admitted himself noiselessly&mdash;almost
+      surreptitiously. Once inside he closed the door without unnecessary sound
+      and stood for some moments in the dark little entrance-hall, apparently
+      listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a voice broke the silence of the house. A querulous,
+      high-pitched voice, quavering with the palsy of extreme age. The sound of
+      it was no new thing for Christian Vellacott. To-night his lips gave a
+      little twist of pain as he heard it. The door of the room on the ground
+      floor was open, and he could hear the words distinctly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know, Mrs. Strawd, we have a nephew, but he is always gadding about,
+      I am sure; he has been a terrible affliction to us. A frothy,
+      good-for-nothing boy&mdash;that is what he is. We have not set eyes on him
+      for a month or more. Why, I almost forget his name!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian, that is his name&mdash;a most inappropriate one, I am sure,&rdquo;
+       chimed in another voice, almost identical in tone. &ldquo;Why Walter should have
+      given him such a name I cannot tell. Ah! sister Judith, things are
+      different from what they used to be when we were younger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The frothy one outside the door seemed in no great degree impressed by
+      these impartial views upon himself, though the pained look was still upon
+      his lips as he turned to hang up his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's coming home to-night, though, Miss Judith,&rdquo; said another voice, in a
+      coaxing, wheedling tone, such as one uses towards petulant children. &ldquo;He's
+      coming home to-night, sure enough!&rdquo; It was a pleasant voice, with a
+      strong, capable ring about it. One instinctively felt that the possessor
+      of it was a woman to be relied upon at a crisis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he now&mdash;is he now?&rdquo; said the first speaker reflectively. &ldquo;Well, I
+      am sure it is time he did. We will just give him a lesson, eh, sister
+      Hester?&mdash;we will give him a lesson, shall we not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment the door opened, and a little woman, quiet though somewhat
+      anxious looking, came out. She evinced no surprise at the sight of the
+      good-for-nothing nephew in the dimly-lighted passage, greeting him in a
+      low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How have they been to-day, nurse?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they have been well enough, Master Christian,&rdquo; was the reply, in a
+      cheerful undertone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Judith has 'most got rid of her cold. But they've been very trying,
+      sir&mdash;just like children, as wilful as could be&mdash;the same
+      question over and over again till I was fit to cry. They are quieter now,
+      but&mdash;but it's you they're abusing now, Master Chris!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellow looked down into the little woman's face. His eyes were
+      sympathetic enough, but he said nothing. With a little nod and a
+      suppressed sigh he turned away from her. He laid his hand upon the door
+      and then stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As soon as you have brought up tea,&rdquo; he said, looking back, &ldquo;I will take
+      them for the evening, and you can have your rest as usual.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the room came, at intervals, the ring of silver, as if some one were
+      moving the spoons and forks from the table. Christian waited until these
+      sounds had ceased before he entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Aunt Judith. Good evening, Aunt Hester,&rdquo; he said cheerily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were exactly alike, these two old ladies; the same marvellously
+      wrinkled features and silver hair; voluminous caps and white woollen
+      shawls identical. With exaggerated marks of respect he kissed each by turn
+      on her withered cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I sit down, Aunt Judith?&rdquo; he asked, and without waiting for an answer
+      drew a chair towards the fireplace, where a small fire burnt though it was
+      the month of August.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Nephew Vellacott, you may take a seat,&rdquo; replied Aunt Judith with
+      chill severity, &ldquo;and you may also tell us where you have been during the
+      last four weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
+      farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
+      mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
+      old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
+      doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us&mdash;us who support
+      you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your back&mdash;leaving
+      us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us, pray&mdash;what
+      are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, &ldquo;have the spoons
+      gone&mdash;?&rdquo; he almost said &ldquo;again,&rdquo; but checked himself in time. He
+      turned to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every
+      piece of silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see!&rdquo; quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
+      ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
+      and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
+      Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
+      tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of a
+      sick-nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it occur?&rdquo; he asked, when the old lady had recovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see,&rdquo; remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of her
+      accomplice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>am</i> sure!&rdquo; panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>am</i> sure!&rdquo; echoed Aunt Hester.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They allowed their nephew's remorse full scope, and then proceeded
+      laboriously to extract the missing articles from the side of Aunt Judith's
+      arm-chair. This farce was rehearsed every night, nearly word for word. A
+      pleasant recreation for an intellectual man, assuredly. The only relief to
+      the monotony was the occasional loss of a spoon in the crevice between the
+      arm and the seat of Aunt Judith's chair. Then followed such a fumbling and
+      a &ldquo;dear me-ing&rdquo; until the worthless nephew was perforce called to the
+      rescue, to fish and probe with a paper-knife till the lost treasure was
+      recovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We only wished, Nephew Vellacott, to show you what might have happened
+      during your unconscionable absence. Servants are only too ready to talk to
+      the first comer of their mistresses' wealth and position. They have no
+      discrimination.&rdquo; said Aunt Judith in a reproving tone. The old ladies were
+      very fond of boasting of their wealth and position, whereas, in reality,
+      their nephew was the only barrier between them and the workhouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Aunt Judith,&rdquo; replied Christian patiently, &ldquo;I will try and stay at
+      home more in future. But you know it is time I was doing something to earn
+      my own livelihood now. I cannot exist on your kindness all my life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had learnt to humour these two silly old women. During the two years
+      which had just passed he had gradually recognised the utter futility of
+      endeavouring to make them realise the true state of their affairs. They
+      spoke grandiloquently of the family solicitor: a man who had been in his
+      grave for nearly a quarter of a century. It was simply impossible to
+      instil into their minds any fact whatever, and such facts as had
+      established themselves there were permanent. They belonged to another
+      generation, and their mode of thought was a remnant of a forgotten and
+      unsatisfactory period. To them Napoleon the First was a living man, Queen
+      Victoria unheard of. The decay of their minds had been slow, and it had
+      been Christian Vellacott's painful task to watch its steady progress. Day
+      by day he had followed the gradual failing of each sense and power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something pathetic about the decay of a mind which has been
+      driven to death by constant work, but there is a compensating thought to
+      alleviate the sadness. It may rattle and grow loose, like some worn-out
+      engine, where the friction presses; but it will work till it collapses
+      totally, and some of the work achieved is good and permanent. It is bound
+      to be so. Infinitely sadder is the sight of a mind which is falling to
+      pieces by reason of the rust that has eaten into its very core. For rust
+      must needs mean idleness&mdash;and no human intellect <i>need</i> be idle.
+      So it had been with these two old ladies. Born in a wofully unintellectual
+      age, they had never left a certain groove in life. When their brother
+      married Christian Vellacott's grandmother, they had left his house in
+      Honiton to go and live in Bodmin upon a limited but sufficient income.
+      These &ldquo;sufficient incomes&rdquo; are a curse; they do not allow of charity and
+      make no call for labour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Christian Vellacott arrived in England, an orphan with no great
+      wealth, he made it his first duty to visit the only living relations he
+      possessed. He was just in time to save them, literally, from starvation.
+      It was obvious that he could not make a literary livelihood in Bodmin, so
+      he made a home for the two old wrecks of humanity in London. Their means,
+      like their minds, were simply exhausted. Aunt Judith was ninety-three;
+      Aunt Hester ninety-one. During that vast blank (for blank it was, so far
+      as their lives were concerned) stretching away back into a perspective of
+      time which few around them could gauge&mdash;they had never been separated
+      for one day. Like two apples they had grown side by side, until their very
+      contact had engendered disease&mdash;a slow, deadly, creeping rot, finding
+      its source at the point of contact, reaching its goal at the heart of
+      each. They had <i>existed</i> thus with terrible longevity&mdash;lived a
+      mere animal life of sleeping and eating, such as hundreds of women are
+      living around us now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, you must learn to make your daily bread, Nephew Vellacott!&rdquo;
+       answered Aunt Hester. &ldquo;The desire does you credit; but you should be
+      careful into what society you go without us. Girls are very designing, and
+      many a one would like to marry a nephew of mine&mdash;eh, Judith?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that they would,&rdquo; replied the old lady. &ldquo;The minxes know that they
+      might do worse than catch the nephew of Judith and Hester Vellacott!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at us,&rdquo; continued Aunt Hester, drawing up her shrunken old form with
+      a touch of pride. &ldquo;Look at us? We have always avoided marriage, and we are
+      very nice and happy, I am sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She waited for a confirmation of this bold statement, but Christian was
+      not listening. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his
+      knees, gazing into the fire. He was recalling the conversation which had
+      passed in the little room in the Strand. Could he leave these two helpless
+      old creatures. Could he get away from it all for a little time&mdash;away
+      from the maddening prattle of unguided tongues, from the dread monotony of
+      hopeless watching? He knew that he was wasting his manhood, neglecting his
+      intellectual opportunities, and endangering his career; but his course of
+      duty was marked out with terrible distinctness. He never saw the pathos of
+      it, as a woman would have seen it, gathering perhaps some slight
+      alleviation from the sight. It never entered his thoughts to complain, and
+      he never conceived the idea of drawing comparisons between his position
+      and that of other young men who, instead of being slaves to their
+      relatives, made very good use of them. He merely went on doing his obvious
+      duty and striving not to look forward too eagerly to a release at some
+      future period.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately, Mrs. Strawd was not long in bringing in the simple evening
+      meal; and the attention of the old ladies was at once turned to the
+      mystery hidden beneath the dish-cover. What was it, and would there be
+      enough for Nephew Vellacott?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Deftly, Christian poured out the tea. Two cups very weak and one stronger.
+      Then two thin slices of crustless bread had to be buttered. This operation
+      required great judgment and impartiality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, Nephew Vellacott!&rdquo; said Aunt Judith, with dangerous severity.
+      &ldquo;Is that first slice intended for Aunt Hester? It appears to me that the
+      butter is very thick&mdash;much thicker than on the second, which is
+      doubtless intended for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so, Aunt Judith?&rdquo; asked Christian in a voice purposely loud
+      in order to drown Aunt Hester's remonstrance. &ldquo;Then I will take a little
+      off!&rdquo; He passed the knife harmlessly over the faulty slice, and laid the
+      two side by side upon a plate. Then the old ladies promptly held a survey
+      on them&mdash;that declared to be more heavily buttered being awarded to
+      Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly
+      despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the property
+      of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament. The part he played
+      in the domestic economy of the small household was a contemplative rather
+      than an active one. Mick, Aunt Hester's bird, was of a more lively nature.
+      He had, as a rule, something to say upon all subjects&mdash;and said it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Aunt Hester, in her inmost heart, loved a silent bird, and secretly
+      coveted Dick, but as Mick was her property, and Dick the silent was owned
+      by Aunt Judith, she never lost an opportunity of enlarging upon the
+      stupidity and uselessness of silent birds. Aunt Judith, on the other hand,
+      admired a lively and talkative canary; consequently she was weighed down
+      with the conviction that her sister's bird was the superior article.
+      Altogether, birds as a topic of conversation were best avoided. Dick and
+      Mick were housed in cages of similar build&mdash;indeed, most things were
+      strictly in duplicate in the whole household. Every evening Christian
+      brought the cages, and Aunt Judith and Aunt Hester carefully placed within
+      the wires a small piece of bread-and-butter, which Nurse Strawd as
+      carefully removed, untouched, the next morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the birds' wants had been attended to, it was Christian's duty to
+      settle the old ladies comfortably in their respective arm-chairs. This he
+      did tenderly and cleverly as a woman, but it was not a pleasant sight to
+      look upon. The man, with his lean, strong face, long jaw, and prominent
+      chin, was so obviously out of place. These peaceful duties were never
+      meant for such as he. His somewhat closely-set eyes were not such as wax
+      tender over drowning flies, for even in repose they were somewhat direct
+      and stern in their gaze. In fact, Christian Vellacott was so visibly
+      created for strife and the forefront of life's battle, that it was almost
+      painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful avocation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for an
+      hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with the
+      deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was their
+      hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although they
+      dozed in their chairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
+      touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and drowsily
+      for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the room.
+      Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys. Aunt
+      Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on playing.
+      Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds seemed to
+      fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering. Silently the
+      player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at the table from
+      which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink, and paper were
+      within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the following note:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SIDNEY,&mdash;May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
+      your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather than
+      offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier way of
+      spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly old
+      Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed to
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew, Esq., St. Mary Western, Dorset.&rdquo; Then he slipped
+      noiselessly out of the room and upstairs to where Mrs. Strawd had a small
+      sitting-room of her own. The little woman heard his footstep on the old
+      creaking stairs, and opened the door of her room before he reached it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I went away for three weeks,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;could you do without me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I could,&rdquo; replied the little woman readily. &ldquo;Just you go away
+      and take a holiday, Master Christian. You need it sorely, that I know. You
+      do indeed. We shall get on splendidly without you. I'll just have my
+      sister to come and stay, same as I did when you had to go to the Paris
+      House of Parliament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not had much of a holiday, you see, for two years now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you haven't, and you want it. It's only human nature&mdash;and
+      you a young man that ought to be in the open air all day. For an old woman
+      like me it's different. We're made differently by the good God on purpose,
+      I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, if your sister comes it must be understood, nurse, that I
+      make the same arrangement with her as exists with you. She must simply be
+      a duplicate of you&mdash;you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little woman laughed, lightly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, Master Christian, that is all right. But you need not have
+      troubled about that. She never would have thought of such a thing as
+      wages, I'm sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied he gravely, &ldquo;I know she would not, but it will be better, I
+      think, to have it understood beforehand. Gratitude is a very nice thing to
+      work for, but some work is worth more than gratitude. If you are going out
+      for your walk, perhaps you will post this letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Christian went to bed that night he held a candle close to the
+      mirror and looked long and hard at his own reflection. There were dark
+      streaks under his eyes, his small mouth was drawn and dry, his lips
+      colourless. At each temple the bone stood out rather prominently, and the
+      skin was brilliant in its whiteness and reflected the light of the candle.
+      He felt his own pulse. It was beating, at one moment fast and irregular,
+      at the next it was hardly perceptible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; he muttered, with a professional nod&mdash;in his training as a
+      journalist he had learnt a little of many sciences&mdash;&ldquo;yes, old Bodery
+      was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V. A REUNION
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The gentle August night had cooled and soothed the dusty atmosphere. All
+      things looked fair, even in London. The placid Thames glided stealthily
+      down to the sea, as if wishing to speed on unseen, to cast at last his
+      reeking waters into the cool ocean. The bright brown sails, low hulls, and
+      gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream added to
+      the beauty of the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the
+      door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man. When once he
+      had made up his mind to go, every obstacle was thrown aside, and his
+      determination was now as great as had been his previous reluctance. He had
+      no presentiment that he was taking an important step in life&mdash;one of
+      those steps which we hardly notice at the time, but upon which we look
+      back in after years and note how clear and definite it was, losing
+      ourselves in vague conjecture as to what might have been had we held back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian being practical in all things, knew how to travel comfortably,
+      dispensing with rugs and bags and such small packages as are understood to
+      be dear to the elderly single female heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smoky suburbs were soon left behind, and the smiling land gave forth
+      such gentle, pastoral odours as only long confinement in cities can teach
+      us to detect. Christian lowered the window, and the warm air played round
+      him as it had not done for two long years. The whizz of the wind past his
+      face brought back the memory of the long, idle, happy days spent with his
+      father in the Mediterranean, when they had been half sailors and wholly
+      Bohemians, gliding from port to port, village to city, in their yacht, as
+      free and careless as the wind. The warm breeze almost seemed to be coming
+      to him from some parched Italian plain instead of pastoral
+      Buckinghamshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then his thoughts travelled still further back to his school-days in
+      Prague, when his father and Mr. Carew were colleagues in a brilliant but
+      unfortunate embassy. Five years had passed since then. The two fathers
+      were now dead, and the children had dropped apart as men and women do when
+      their own personal interests begin to engross them. Now again, in this
+      late summer time, they were to meet. All, that is, who were left. The <i>débris</i>,
+      as it were. Three voices there were whose tones would never more be heard
+      in the round of merry jest. Mr. Carew, Walter Vellacott (Uncle Walter, the
+      young ones called him), and little Charlie Carew, the bright-eyed sailor
+      of the family, had all three travelled on. The two former, whose age and
+      work achieved had softened their departure, were often spoken of with
+      gently lowered voice, but little Charlie's name was never mentioned. It
+      was a fatal mistake&mdash;this silence&mdash;if you will; but it was one
+      of those mistakes which are often made in wisdom. In splendid, solitary
+      grandeur he lay awaiting the end of all things&mdash;the call of his
+      Creator&mdash;in the grey ice-fields of the North. The darling of his
+      ship, he had died with a smile in his blue eyes and a sad little jest upon
+      his lips to cheer the rough fur-clad giants kneeling at his side. Time,
+      the merciful, had healed, as best he could (which is by no means
+      perfectly), the wound in the younger hearts. It is only the old that are
+      quite beyond his powers; he cannot touch them. Mrs. Carew, a woman with a
+      patient face and a ready smile, was the only representative of the
+      vanishing generation. Her daughters&mdash;ay! and perhaps her sons as well
+      (though boys are not credited with so much tender divination)&mdash;knew
+      the meaning of the little droop at the side of their mother's smiling
+      lips. They detected the insincerity of her kindly laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shortly after leaving Exeter, Christian's station was reached. This was an
+      old-fashioned seaport town, whose good fortune it was to lie too far west
+      for a London watering-place, and too far east for Plymouth or Bristol.
+      Sidney Carew was on the platform&mdash;a sturdy, typical Englishman, with
+      a certain sure slowness of movement handed down to him by seafaring
+      ancestors. The two friends had not met for many years, but with men
+      absence has little effect upon affection. During the space of many years
+      they may never meet and seldom write, but at the end that gulf of time is
+      bridged over by a simple &ldquo;Halloa, old fellow!&rdquo; and a warm grip. Slowly,
+      piece by piece, the history of the past years comes out. Both are probably
+      changed in thought and nature, but the old individuality remains, the old
+      bond of friendship survives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Sidney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Simultaneously&mdash;and that was all. The changes were there in both, and
+      noted by both, but not commented upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Molly is outside with the dog-cart,&rdquo; said Sidney; &ldquo;is your luggage
+      forward?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is it being pitched out now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with womanly foresight that Miss Molly Carew had elected to wait
+      outside with the dog-cart while her brother met Christian on the platform.
+      She feared a little natural embarrassment at meeting the old playfellow of
+      the family, and concluded that the first moments would be more easily
+      tided over here than at the train. Her fears were, as it turned out,
+      unnecessary, but she did not know what Christian might be like after the
+      lapse of years. Of herself she was sure enough, being one of those happy
+      people who have no self-consciousness whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On seeing her, Christian came forward at once, raising his hat and shaking
+      hands as if they had parted the day before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw at once that it was all right. This was Christian Vellacott as she
+      had remembered him. She looked down at him as he stood with one hand
+      resting on the splashboard, and he, looking up to her, smiled in return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;do you know I should scarcely have recognised you.
+      You are so big, and&mdash;and you look positively ghastly!&rdquo; She finished
+      her remark with a little laugh which took away from the spoken meaning of
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ghastly?&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Thanks: I do not feel like it&mdash;only hungry.
+      Hungry, and desperately glad to see a face that does not look overworked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave a little sarcastic nod, and pursed up a pair of very red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nevertheless I am the only person in the house who does any work at all.
+      Hilda, for instance&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Sidney came up and interrupted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jump up in front, Chris,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;Molly will drive, while I sit behind.
+      Your luggage will follow in the cart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drive of six miles passed away very pleasantly. Molly's strong little
+      hands were quite accustomed to the reins, and the men were free to talk,
+      which, however, she found time to do as well. The two young people on the
+      front seat stole occasional sidelong glances at each other. The clever,
+      mischievous little girl of Christian's recollection was transformed by the
+      kindly hand of time into a fascinating and capable young lady. The
+      uncertain profile had grown clear and regular. The truant hair was
+      somewhat more under control, which, however, was all that could be said
+      upon that subject. Only her eyes were unchanged, the laughing, fearless
+      eyes of old. Fearless they had been in the times of childish mischief and
+      adventure; fearless they remained in the face of life's graver mischances
+      now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had been a shy and commonplace-enough boy as she recollected
+      him. Now she found a self-possessed man of the world. Tall and strong of
+      body she saw he was, and she felt that he possessed another strength&mdash;a
+      strength of mind and will which, reaching out, can grasp and hold anything
+      or everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With practised skill, Molly turned into the narrow gateway at a swinging
+      trot, and then only was the house visible&mdash;a low, rambling building
+      of brick and stone uncouthly mixed. Its chief outward characteristic was a
+      promise of inward comfort. The sturdy manner in which its windows faced
+      the scantily-wooded tableland that stretched away unbroken by wall or
+      hedgerow to the sea, implied a certain thickness of wall and woodwork. The
+      doorway which looked inland was singularly broad, and bore signs about its
+      stonework of having once been even broader. The house had originally been
+      a hollow square, with a roofless courtyard in the centre, into which the
+      sheep and cattle were in olden times driven for safety at night against
+      French marauders. This had later on been roofed in, and transformed into a
+      roomy and comfortable hall, such as might be used as a sitting-room. All
+      around the house, except, indeed, upon the sea-ward side, stood gnarled
+      and twisted trees; Scotch firs in abundance, here and there a Weymouth
+      pine, and occasionally a knotted dwarf oak with a tendency to run inland.
+      The garden was, however, rich enough in shrubs and undergrowth, and to the
+      landward side was a gleam of still water, being all that remained of a
+      broad, deep moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew welcomed Christian at the open door. She said very little, but
+      her manner was sufficiently warm and friendly to dispense with words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Hilda?&rdquo; asked Molly, as she leapt lightly to the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know, dear. She is out, somewhere; in the garden, I expect. You
+      are before your time a little. The train must have been punctual, for a
+      wonder. Had Hilda known, she would have been here to welcome you, I know,
+      Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect she is at the moat,&rdquo; said Molly. &ldquo;Come along, Christian; we will
+      go and look for her. This way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Sidney had driven the dog-cart round to the stables,
+      kneeling awkwardly upon the back seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Christian followed his fair guide down the little path leading to the
+      moat, he began to feel that it was not so difficult after all to throw off
+      the dull weight of anxiety that lay upon his mind. The thoughts about the
+      <i>Beacon</i> were after all not so very absorbing. The anxiety regarding
+      the welfare of the two old ladies was already alleviated by distance. The
+      strong sea air, the change to pleasant and kindly society, were already
+      beginning their work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Molly stopped, and Christian saw that she was standing at the
+      edge of a long, still sheet of water bounded by solid stonework, which,
+      however, was crumbling away in parts, while everywhere the green moss grew
+      in velvety profusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christian,&rdquo; said Molly lightly, &ldquo;I suppose Sidney told you a little
+      of our news. Men's letters are not discursive as a rule I know, but no
+      doubt he told you&mdash;something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing beside her at the edge of the moat, looking down into the
+      deep, clear water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied slowly, &ldquo;yes, Molly; he told me a little in a scrappy,
+      unsatisfactory way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A pained expression came into her eyes for a moment, and then she spoke,
+      rather more quickly than was habitual with her, but without raising her
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told you&mdash;nothing about Hilda?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and looked down at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw approaching them a
+      young man and a maiden whose footsteps had been inaudible upon the
+      moss-grown path. The man was of medium height, with an honest brown face.
+      He was dressed for riding, and walked with a slight swagger, which arose
+      less from conceit than from excessive riding on horseback. The maiden was
+      tall and stately, and in her walk there was an old-fashioned grace of
+      movement which harmonised perfectly with the old-world surroundings. She
+      was looking down, and Christian could not see her face; but as she wore no
+      hat, he saw and recognised her hair. This was of gold&mdash;not red, not
+      auburn, not flaxen, but pure and living gold. The sun glinting through the
+      trees shone upon it and gleamed, but in reality the hair gleamed without
+      the aid of sunlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI. BROKEN THREADS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      They came forward, and suddenly the girl raised her face. She made a
+      little hesitating movement of non-recognition, and then suddenly her face
+      was transformed by a very pleasant smile. There was something peculiar in
+      Hilda Carew's smile, which came from the fact that her eyelashes were
+      golden, while her eyes were dark blue. The effect suggested a fascinating
+      kitten. In repose her face was almost severe in its refined beauty, and
+      the set of her lips indicated a certain self-reliance which with years
+      might become more prominent if trouble should arrive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;I am sorry I did not know you.&rdquo; They shook
+      hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Farrar,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;Mr. Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
+      Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking contradiction
+      to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tea is ready,&rdquo; said Molly somewhat hastily; &ldquo;let us go in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
+      followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion found
+      herself compelled to wait for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,&rdquo;
+       said he in a conversational way; &ldquo;it is quite green, and almost
+      transparent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Molly, moving away tentatively, &ldquo;we see most peculiar
+      effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
+      lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
+      truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
+      cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether the
+      action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At length
+      he turned to follow her, but Molly had failed in her object; the others
+      had passed out of earshot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Christian in a lowered voice, &ldquo;who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is the squire of St. Mary Eastern, six miles from here,&rdquo; she replied;
+      &ldquo;very well off; very good to his mother, and in every way nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian tore off a small branch which would have touched his forehead
+      had he walked on without stooping. He broke it into small pieces, and
+      continued throwing up at intervals into the air a tiny stick, hitting it
+      with his hand as they walked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said suggestively, &ldquo;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Christian,&rdquo; she replied decisively, &ldquo;they are engaged. Come, let us
+      hurry; I always pour out the tea. I told you before, if you remember, that
+      I was the only person in the house who did any work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Christian opened his eyes the following morning, the soft hum of
+      insects fell on his ear instead of the roar of London traffic. Through the
+      open window the southern air blew upon his face. Above the sound of busy
+      wings the distant sea sang its low dirge. It was a living perspective of
+      sound. The least rustle near at hand overpowered it, and yet it was always
+      there&mdash;an unceasing throb to be felt as much as heard. Some acoustic
+      formation of the land carried the noise, for the sea was eight miles away.
+      It was very peaceful; for utter stillness is not peace. A room wherein an
+      old clock ticks is infinitely more soothing than a noiseless chamber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless the feeling that forced itself into Christian Vellacott's
+      waking thoughts was not peaceful. It was a sense of discomfort.
+      Town-people expect too much from the country&mdash;that is the truth of
+      it. They quite overlook the fact that where human beings are there can be
+      no peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sudden sense of restlessness annoyed him. He knew it so well. It had
+      hovered over his waking head almost daily during the last two years, and
+      here, in the depths of the country, he had expected to be without it.
+      Moreover, he was conscious that he had not brought the cause with him. He
+      had found it, waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were many things&mdash;indeed there was almost everything&mdash;to
+      make his life happy and pleasant at St. Mary Western. But in his mind, as
+      he woke up on this first morning, none of these things found place. He
+      came to his senses thinking of the one little item which could be
+      described as untoward&mdash;thinking of Hilda, and Hilda engaged to be
+      married to Fred Farrar. It was not that he was in love with Hilda Carew
+      himself. He had scarcely remembered her existence during the last two
+      years. But this engagement jarred, and Farrar jarred. It was something
+      more than the very natural shock which comes with the news that a
+      companion of our youth is about to be married&mdash;shock which seems to
+      shake the memory of that youth; to confuse the background of our life. It
+      is by means of such shocks as these that Fate endeavours vainly to make us
+      realise that the past is irrevocable&mdash;that we are passing on, and
+      that that which has been can never be again. And at the same time we learn
+      something else: namely, that the past is not by any means unchangeable. So
+      potential is To-day that it not only holds To-morrow in the hollow of its
+      hand, but it can alter Yesterday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott lay upon his bed in unwonted idleness, gazing vaguely
+      at the flying clouds. The window was open, and the song of the distant sea
+      rose and fell with a rhythm full of peace. But in this man's mind there
+      was no peace. In all probability there never would be complete peace
+      there, because Ambition had set its hold upon him. He wanted to do more
+      than there was time for. Like many of us, he began by thinking that Life
+      is longer than it is. Its whole length is in those &ldquo;long, long thoughts&rdquo;
+       of Youth. When those are left behind, we settle down to work, and the rest
+      of the story is nothing but labour. Vellacott resented this engagement
+      because he felt that Hilda Carew had stepped out of that picture which
+      formed what was probably destined to be the happiest time of his life&mdash;his
+      Youth. For the unhappiness of Youth is preferable to the resignation of
+      Age. He felt that she had willingly resigned something which he would on
+      no account have given up. Above all, he felt that it was a mistake. This
+      was, of course, at the bottom of it. He probably felt that it was a pity.
+      We usually feel so on hearing that a pretty and charming girl is engaged
+      to be married. We think that she might have done so much better for
+      herself, and we grow pensive or possibly sentimental over her lost
+      opportunity when contemplating him in the mirror as he shaves. Like all
+      so-called happy events, an engagement is not usually a matter of universal
+      rejoicing. Some one is, in all probability, left to think twice about it.
+      But Christian Vellacott was not prepared to admit that he was in that
+      position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was naturally of an observant habit&mdash;his father had been one of
+      the keenest-sighted men of his day&mdash;and he had graduated at the
+      subtlest school in the world. He unwittingly fell to studying his
+      fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of
+      this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little
+      scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically
+      pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his
+      clients.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note. The
+      squire of St. Mary Eastern was apparently very similar to his fellows. He
+      was an ordinary young British squire with a knowledge of horses and a
+      highly-developed fancy for smart riding-breeches and long boots. He had
+      probably received a fair education, but this had ceased when he closed his
+      last school-book. The seeds of knowledge had been sown, but they lacked
+      moisture and had failed to grow. He was good-natured, plucky in a
+      hard-headed British way, and gentlemanly. In all this there was nothing
+      exceptional&mdash;nothing to take note of&mdash;and Vellacott only
+      remembered the limpness of Frederick Farrar's grasp. He thought of this
+      too persistently and magnified it. And this being the only mental note
+      made, was rather hard on the young squire of St. Mary Eastern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott thought of these things while he dressed, he thought of them
+      intermittently during the unsettled, noisy, country breakfast, and when he
+      found himself walking beside the moat with Hilda later on he was still
+      thinking of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had not yet gathered into their hands the threads which had been
+      broken years before. At times they hit upon a topic of some slight common
+      interest, but something hovered in the air between them. Hilda was gay, as
+      she had always been, in a gentle, almost purring way; but a certain
+      constrained silence made itself felt at times, and they were both
+      intensely conscious of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott was fully aware that there was something to be got over, and so
+      instead of skipping round it, as a woman might have done, he went
+      blundering on to the top of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hilda,&rdquo; he said suddenly, &ldquo;I have never congratulated you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bent her head in a grave little bow which was not quite English; but
+      she said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can only wish you all happiness,&rdquo; he continued rather vaguely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she made that mystic little motion of the head, but did not look
+      towards him, and never offered the assistance of smile or word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A long life, a happy one, and your own will,&rdquo; he added more lightly,
+      looking down into the green water of the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said, standing quite still beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then there followed an awkward pause. It was Vellacott who finally
+      broke the silence in the only way left to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like Farrar,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am sure he will make you happy. He&mdash;is a
+      lucky fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the walk that ran the whole length of that part of the moat
+      which had been allowed to remain intact, she made a little movement as if
+      to turn aside beneath the hazel trees and towards the house. But he would
+      not let her go. He turned deliberately upon his heel and waited for her.
+      There was nothing else to do but acquiesce. They retraced their steps with
+      that slow reflectiveness which comes when one walks backwards and forwards
+      over the same ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something eminently conversational in the practice of walking to
+      and fro. For that purpose it is better than an arm-chair and a pipe, or a
+      piece of knitting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Occasionally Vellacott dropped a pace behind, apparently with a purpose;
+      for when he did so he raised his eyes instantly. He seemed to be slowly
+      detailing the maiden, and he frowned a little. She was exactly what she
+      had promised to be. The singularly golden hair which he had last seen
+      flowing freely over her slight young shoulders had acquired a decorousness
+      of curve, although the hue was unchanged. The shoulders were exactly the
+      same in contour, on a slightly larger scale; and the manner of carrying
+      her head&mdash;a manner peculiarly her own, and suggestive of a certain
+      gentle wilfulness&mdash;was unaltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet there was a change: that subtle change which seems to come to
+      girls suddenly, in the space of a week&mdash;of one night. And this man
+      was watching her with his analytical eyes, wondering what the change might
+      be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was more or less a bookworm, and he possibly thought that this subject&mdash;this
+      pleasant young subject walking beside him in a blue cotton dress&mdash;was
+      one which might easily be grasped and understood if only one gave one's
+      mind to it. Hence the little frown. It denoted the gift of his mind. It
+      was the frown that settled over his eyes when he cut the pages of a deep
+      book and glanced at the point of his pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had read many books, and he knew a number of things. But there is one
+      subject of which very little can be learnt in books&mdash;precisely the
+      subject that walked in a blue cotton dress by Christian Vellacott's side
+      at the edge of the moat. If any one thinks that book-learning can aid this
+      study, let him read the ignorance of Gibbon, comparing it with the
+      learning of that cheery old ignoramus Montaigne. And Vellacott was nearer
+      to Gibbon in his learning than to Montaigne in his careless ignorance of
+      those things that are written in books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced at her; he frowned and brought his whole attention to bear upon
+      her, and he could not even find out whether she was pleased to listen to
+      his congratulations, or angry, or merely indifferent. It was rather a
+      humiliating position for a clever man&mdash;for a critic who knew himself
+      to be capable of understanding most things, of catching the drift of most
+      thoughts, however imperfectly expressed. He was vaguely conscious of
+      defeat. He felt that he was nonplussed by a pair of soft round eyes like
+      the eyes of a kitten, and the dignified repose of a pair of demure red
+      lips. Both eyes and lips, as well as shoulders and golden hair, were
+      strangely familiar and strangely strange by turns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With one finger he twisted the left side of his moustache into his mouth,
+      and, dragging at it with his teeth, distorted his face in an unbecoming if
+      reflective manner, which was habitually indicative of the deepest
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While reflecting, he forgot to be conversational, and Hilda seemed to be
+      content with silence. So they walked the length of the moat twice without
+      speaking, and might have accomplished it a third time, had little Stanley
+      Carew not appeared upon the scene with the impulsive energy of his
+      thirteen years, begging Christian to bowl him some really swift overhands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII. PUPPETS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! It goes. It goes already!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker&mdash;the Citizen Morot&mdash;slowly rubbed his white hands
+      one over the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing at the window of a small house in an insignificant street
+      on the southern side of the Seine. He was remarkably calm&mdash;quite the
+      calmest man within the radius of a mile; for the insignificant little
+      street was in an uproar. There was a barricade at each end of it. Such a
+      barricade as Parisians love. It was composed of a few overturned
+      omnibuses; for the true Parisian is a cynic. He likes overturned things,
+      and he loves to see objects of peace converted to purposes of war. He is
+      not content that ploughshares be beaten into swords. He prefers
+      altar-rails. And so this little street was blocked at either end by a
+      barricade of overturned omnibuses, of old hampers and empty boxes, of a
+      few loads of second-hand bricks and paving-stones brought from the scene
+      of some drainage operations round the corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the street between the barricades, surged, hooted, and yelled that
+      wildest and most dangerous of incomprehensibles&mdash;a Paris mob.
+      Half-a-dozen orators were speaking at once, and no one was listening to
+      them. Here and there amidst the rabble a voice was raised at times with
+      suspicious persistence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Vive le Roi!</i>&rdquo; it cried. &ldquo;Long live the King!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few took up the refrain, but the general tone was negative. It was not
+      so much a question of upholding anything as of throwing down that which
+      was already up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down with the Republic!&rdquo; was the favourite cry. &ldquo;Down with the President!
+      Down with everything!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And each man cried down his favourite enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot listened, and his contemptuous mouth was twisted with a
+      delicate, subtle smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;The voice of the people. The howling of the wolves. Go
+      on, go on, my braves. Cry 'Long live the King,' and soon you will begin to
+      believe that you mean it. They are barking now. Let them bark. Soon we
+      shall teach them to bite, and then&mdash;then, who knows?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he stood there amidst the din
+      and hubbub&mdash;dreaming. At last he raised his hand to his forehead&mdash;a
+      prominent, rounded forehead, flat as the palm of one's hand from eyebrow
+      to eyebrow, and curving at either side, sharply, back to deep-sunken
+      temples.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed, with a little laugh; and he drew from an inner pocket
+      a delicately scented pocket-handkerchief, with which he wiped his brow.
+      &ldquo;If I get excited now, what will it be when they begin&mdash;to bite?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this while the orators were shouting their loudest, and the voices
+      dispersed throughout the crowd raised at intervals their short, sharp cry
+      of&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Long live the King!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the police? There were only two agents attached to the immediate
+      neighbourhood, and they were smoking cigars and drinking absinthe in two
+      separate cellars, with the door locked on the outside. They were prisoners
+      of war of the most resigned type. The room in which stood the Citizen
+      Morot was dark, and wisely so. For the Parisian street politician can make
+      very pretty practice of a lighted petroleum-lamp with an empty bottle or
+      half a brick. The window was wide open, and the wooden shutters were
+      hooked back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attitude of the man was interested and slightly self-satisfied. It
+      suggested that of the manager of a theatre looking down from an upper-tier
+      box upon a full house and a faultless stage. At the same time he was
+      keeping what sailors call a very &ldquo;bright look-out&rdquo; towards either end of
+      the street. From his elevated position he was able to see over the
+      barricades, and he watched with intense interest the movements of two
+      women (or perhaps men disguised as such) who stood in the centre of the
+      street just beyond each obstruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something dramatic in the motionless attitude of these two
+      women, standing guard alone in the deserted street, on the wrong side of
+      the barricades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At times Morot leant well out of the window and listened. Then he stood
+      back again and contemplated the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each orator was illuminated by a naphtha &ldquo;flare,&rdquo; which, being held in
+      unsteady hands, flickered and wavered, casting strange gleams of light
+      over the evil faces upturned towards it. At times one speaker would
+      succeed in raising a laugh or extracting a groan, and when he did so those
+      listening to his rivals turned and surged towards him. There was plenty of
+      movement. It was what the newspapers call an animated scene&mdash;or a
+      disgraceful scene&mdash;according to their political bias.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot could not hear the jokes nor distinguish the cause of
+      the groaning. But he did not seem to mind much. The speeches were not of
+      the description to be given in full in the morning papers. There were,
+      fortunately, no reporters present. It was the frank eloquence of the
+      slaughter-house&mdash;the unclad humour of the market.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly one of the women&mdash;she who was posted at the southern end of
+      the street&mdash;raised both her arms, and the Citizen leant far out of
+      the window. He was very eager, and his hawk-like eyes blinked perpetually.
+      His hand was raised to his mouth, and the lights of the orators gleamed on
+      something that he held in his fingers&mdash;something that looked like
+      silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman held her two arms straight up into the air for some moments,
+      then she suddenly crossed them twice, turning at the same moment and
+      scrambling over the barricade. A long shrill whistle rang out over the
+      heads of the mob, and its effect was almost instantaneous. The &ldquo;flares&rdquo;
+       disappeared like magic. Dark figures swarmed up the lamp-posts and
+      extinguished the feeble lights. The voice of the orator was still. Silence
+      and darkness reigned over that insignificant little street on the southern
+      side of the Seine. Then came the clatter of cavalry&mdash;the rattle of
+      horses' feet, and the ominous clank of empty scabbards against spur and
+      buckle. A word of command, and a scrambling halt. Then silence again,
+      broken only by the shuffling of feet (not too well clad) in the darkness
+      between the barricades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot leant recklessly out of the window, peering into the
+      gloom. He forgot to make use of the delicately scented pocket-handkerchief
+      now, and the drops of perspiration trickled slowly down his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The soldiers shuffled in their saddles. Some of the spirited little Arabs
+      pawed the pavement. One of them squealed angrily, and there was a slight
+      commotion somewhere in the rear ranks&mdash;an equine difference of
+      opinion. The officers had come forward to the barricade and were
+      consulting together. The question was&mdash;what was there behind that
+      barricade? It might be nothing&mdash;it might be everything. In Paris one
+      can never tell. At last one of them determined to see for himself. He
+      scrambled up, putting his foot through the window of an omnibus in
+      passing. Against the dim light of the street-lamp beyond, his slight,
+      straight figure stood out in bold relief. It was a splendid mark for a man
+      with chalked sights to his rifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; muttered the Citizen, &ldquo;you are all right this time&mdash;master, the
+      young officer. They are only barking. Next time perhaps it will be quite
+      another history.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer turned and disappeared. After the lapse of a few moments a
+      dozen words of command were shouted, and upon them followed the sharp
+      click of hilt on scabbard as the sabres fell home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause it became evident that the barricade was being destroyed.
+      And then lights flashed here and there. In a compact column the cavalry
+      advanced at a trot. The street was empty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot turned away and sat down on a chair that happened to be
+      placed near the window. His finely-drawn eyebrows were raised with a
+      questioning weariness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty work!&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;Pretty work for&mdash;my father's son! So
+      grand, so open, so noble!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited there, in the darkness, until the cavalry had been withdrawn and
+      the local firemen were at work upon the barricade. Then, when order was
+      fully restored, he left the house, walking quietly down the length of the
+      insignificant little street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten minutes later he entered the tobacco-shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe.
+      Mr. Jacquetot was at his post, behind the counter near the window, with
+      the little tin box containing postage-stamps in front of him upon his
+      desk. He was always there&mdash;like the poor. He laid aside the <i>Petit
+      Journal</i> and wished the new-comer a courteous, though breathless, good
+      evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The salutation was returned gravely and pleasantly. The Citizen Morot
+      lingered a moment and remarked that it was a warm evening. He never seemed
+      to be in a hurry. Then he passed on into the little room behind the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There he found Lerac, the foreman of the slaughter-house. The butcher was
+      pale with excitement. His rough clothing was dishevelled; his stringy
+      black hair stood up uncouthly in the centre of his head, while over his
+      temples it was plastered down with perspiration and suet pleasingly
+      mingled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he exclaimed, with triumphant interrogation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Morot. &ldquo;Very good. It marches, my friend. It marches
+      already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But you are right. The People see you&mdash;it is a power!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; acquiesced Morot fervently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How he hated this man!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you stayed to the last?&rdquo; inquired Lerac. He was rather white about
+      the lips for a brave man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Till the last,&rdquo; echoed Morot, taking up some letters addressed to him
+      which lay on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the street was quite clear before they broke through the barrier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite&mdash;the People did not wait.&rdquo; He seemed to resign himself to
+      conversation, for he put the letters into his pocket and sat down. &ldquo;Had
+      you,&rdquo; he inquired, &ldquo;any difficulty in getting them away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; somewhat loftily and quite unsuspicious of irony. &ldquo;The passages
+      were narrow, of course; but we had allowed for that in our organisation.
+      Organisation and the People, see you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Morot. &ldquo;Organisation and the People.&rdquo; Like Lerac, he
+      stopped short, apparently lost in the contemplation of the vast
+      possibilities presented to his mental vision by the mere thought of such a
+      combination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; exclaimed the butcher energetically, &ldquo;I must move on. I have
+      meetings. I merely wished to hear from you that all was right&mdash;that
+      no one was caught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was bubbling over with excitement and the sense of his own huge
+      importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot raised his secretive eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night,&rdquo; he said, with an insolence far too fine for the butcher's
+      comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;good-night. We may congratulate ourselves, I think, Citizen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I congratulate you,&rdquo; said Morot. &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is probable that, had Lerac looked back, there would have been murder
+      done in the small room behind the tobacco-shop. But the contemptuous smile
+      soon vanished from the face of the Citizen Morot. No smile lingered there
+      long. It was not built upon smiling lines at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he took up his letters. There were only two of them: one bearing the
+      postmark of a small town in Morbihan, the other hailing from England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He replaced the first in his pocket unread; the second he opened. It was
+      written in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are difficulties,&rdquo; it said. &ldquo;Can you come to me? Cross from
+      Cherbourg to Southampton&mdash;train from thence to this place, and ask
+      for Signor Bruno, an Italian refugee, living at the house of Mrs. Potter,
+      a <i>ci-devant</i> laundress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the back of his hand,
+      making a sharp, grating sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That old man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is getting past his work. He is losing nerve;
+      and nerve is a thing that we cannot afford to lose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to the letter again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed suddenly; &ldquo;St. Mary Western. He is there&mdash;how very
+      strange. What a singular coincidence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He fell into a reverie with the letter before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carew is dead&mdash;but still I can manage it. Perhaps it is just as well
+      that he is dead. I was always afraid of Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he wrote a letter, which he addressed to &ldquo;Signor Bruno, care of Mrs.
+      Potter, St. Mary Western, Dorset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall come,&rdquo; he wrote, &ldquo;but not in the way you suggest. I have a better
+      plan. You must not know me when we meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He purchased a twenty-five centime stamp from Mr. Jacquetot, and posted
+      the letter with his own hand in the little wall-box at the corner of the
+      Rue St. Gingolphe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII. FALSE METAL
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There was, however, no cricket for Stanley Carew that morning. When they
+      came within sight of the house Mrs. Carew emerged from an open window
+      carrying several letters in her hand. She was not hurrying, but walking
+      leisurely, reading a letter as she walked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think, Hilda dear,&rdquo; she said, with as much surprise as she ever
+      allowed herself. &ldquo;I have had a letter from the Vicomte d'Audierne. You
+      remember him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl; &ldquo;I remember him, of course. He is not the sort of
+      man one forgets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always liked the Viscount,&rdquo; said Mrs. Carew, pensively looking at the
+      letter she held in her hand. &ldquo;He was a good friend to us at one time. I
+      never understood him, and I like men whom one does not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered vaguely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father admired him tremendously,&rdquo; Mrs. Carew went on to say. &ldquo;He
+      said that he was one of the cleverest men in France, but that he had
+      fallen in a wrong season, and would not adapt himself. Had France been a
+      monarchy, the Vicomte d'Audierne would have been in a very different
+      position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott did not open his own letters. He seemed to be interested in the
+      conversation of these ladies. He was not a reserved man, but a secretive,
+      which is quite a different thing. Reserve is natural&mdash;it comes
+      unbidden, and often unwelcome. Secretiveness is born of circumstances.
+      Some men find it imperative to cultivate it, although their soul revolts
+      within them. In professional or social matters it is often merely an
+      expediency&mdash;in some cases it almost feels like a crime. There are
+      some secrets which cannot be divulged; there are some deceptions which a
+      certain book-keeper will record upon the credit side of our account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like most young men who have got on in their calling, Christian Vellacott
+      held his career in great respect. He felt that any sacrifice made for it
+      carried its own reward. He thought that it levelled scruples and justified
+      deceptions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew this Vicomte d'Audierne by reputation; he wished to hear more of
+      him; and so he feigned ignorance&mdash;listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has he written about?&rdquo; inquired Hilda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To ask if he may come and see us. I suppose he means to come and stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott looked what the French call &ldquo;contraried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On Monday week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Mrs. Carew turned to her other letters. Vellacott took the budget
+      addressed to him, and walked away to where an iron table and some chairs
+      stood in the shade of a deodar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes he looked still more put out. He had learnt of the
+      disturbances in Paris, and was reading a rather panic-stricken letter from
+      Mr. Bodery. The truth was that there was no one in the office of the <i>Beacon</i>
+      who knew anything whatever about French home politics but Christian
+      Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A continuance of these disturbances would necessarily assume political
+      importance, and might even lead to a crisis. This meant an instant recall
+      for Vellacott. In a crisis his presence in London or Paris was absolutely
+      necessary to the <i>Beacon</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His holiday had barely lasted twenty-four hours, and there was already a
+      question of recall. It happened also that within that short space a
+      considerable change had come over Vellacott. The subtle influence of a
+      country life, and possibly the low, peaceful song of the distant sea, were
+      already beginning to make themselves felt. He actually detected a desire
+      to sit still and do nothing&mdash;a feeling of which he had not hitherto
+      been conscious. He was distinctly averse to leaving St. Mary Western just
+      yet. But there is one task-master who knows no mercy and makes no
+      allowances. Some of us who serve him know it to our cost, and yet we would
+      be content to serve no other. That task-master is the Public.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott was a public servant, and he knew his position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhat later in the morning Molly and Hilda found him still seated at
+      the table, writing with that concentrated rapidity which only comes with
+      practice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; he said, looking up, &ldquo;but I must send off a telegram. I
+      shall walk in to the station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just coming,&rdquo; said Hilda, &ldquo;to ask if you would drive me in. I want
+      to get some things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; added Molly, &ldquo;there are some domestic commissions&mdash;butcher,
+      baker, &amp;c.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott expressed his entire satisfaction with the arrangement, and by
+      the time he had finished his letter the dog-cart was waiting at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several of the family were standing round the vehicle talking in a
+      desultory manner, and Vellacott learnt then for the first time that
+      Frederick Farrar had left home that same morning to attend a midland
+      race-meeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one of those brilliant summer days when it is quite impossible to
+      be pessimistic and exceedingly difficult to compass preoccupation. The
+      light breeze bowling over the upland from the sea had just sufficient
+      strength to blow away all mental cobwebs. Also, Christian Vellacott had
+      suddenly given way to one of those feelings which sometimes come to us
+      without apparent reason. The present was joyous enough without the aid of
+      the ever-to-be-bright future, and Vellacott felt that, after all, French
+      politics and Frederick Farrar did not quite monopolise the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was on this occasion more talkative than usual. There was in her
+      manner a new sense of ease, almost of familiarity, which Vellacott could
+      not understand. He noticed that she spoke invariably in generalities,
+      avoiding all personal matters. Of herself she said no word, though she
+      appeared willing enough to answer any question he might ask. She led him
+      on to talk of himself and his work, listening gravely to his account of
+      the little household at Chelsea. He made the best of this topic, and even
+      treated it in a merry vein; but her smile, though sincere enough, was of
+      short duration and not in itself encouraging. She appeared to see the
+      pathos of it instead of the humour. Suddenly, in the middle of a
+      particularly funny story about Aunt Judith, she interrupted him and
+      changed the conversation entirely. She did not again refer to his home
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were returning in the full glare of the midday sun, they descried
+      in front of them the figure of an old man; he was walking painfully and
+      making poor progress. Carefully dressed in black broadcloth, he wore a
+      soft felt hat of a shape seldom seen in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Hilda, as they approached him, &ldquo;that is Signor Bruno.
+      Yes, it is. Please pull up, Christian. We must give him a lift!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obeyed her. He thought he detected a shade of annoyance in
+      Hilda's voice, with which he fully sympathised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On hearing the sound of the wheels, the old man looked up in surprise, as
+      a deaf person might have been expected to do. This movement showed a most
+      charming old face, surrounded by a halo of white hair and beard. The
+      features were almost perfect, and might in former days have been a trifle
+      cold, by reason of their perfection. Now, however, they were softened by
+      the touch of years, and Signor Bruno was the living semblance of
+      guilelessness and benevolence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Signor Bruno?&rdquo; said Hilda, speaking rather loudly and very
+      distinctly. &ldquo;You are back from London sooner than you expected, are you
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my dear young lady,&rdquo; he replied, courteously removing his hat and
+      standing bareheaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London&mdash;a
+      most terrible place&mdash;terrible&mdash;terrible&mdash;terrible! As I
+      walked along just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are
+      blue; yonder is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.'
+      This is Italy, Miss Hilda&mdash;Italy with a northern fairy walking in
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before the
+      old gentleman recovered his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor
+      Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had
+      alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart.
+      When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed upon
+      his face with a quiet persistence which might have been embarrassing to a
+      younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something unintelligible in
+      reply to the Italian's extensive salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, as he
+      replaced his picturesque hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then
+      came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she
+      should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the sign,
+      and said urbanely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!&rdquo; said Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's
+      guest, and I&mdash;I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed
+      to back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr.
+      Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a
+      peculiar self-abnegating humour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to
+      see why you should sit in front!&rdquo; said Christian with a laugh, which
+      although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. &ldquo;There you have
+      worsted me. After that I am silent, and&mdash;I obey!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness of
+      his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until the
+      village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the gate
+      of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was
+      re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and
+      Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various
+      local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor
+      Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Christian quietly. &ldquo;He seems very nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as if
+      to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his face,
+      which was not expressive of anything in particular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she said gravely, &ldquo;you do not like him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he
+      seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at her
+      grave face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Not very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed and shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;How can there be anything wrong with him&mdash;anything
+      that would affect us, at all events?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He says he is an Italian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say he is a Frenchman,&rdquo; said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
+      &ldquo;Italians do not talk English as he talks it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know him?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
+      somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it will
+      come to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When it does come,&rdquo; said Hilda, with a smile, &ldquo;you will find that it is
+      some one else. I can assure you Signor Bruno is an Italian, and beyond
+      that he is the nicest old gentleman imaginable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Christian. &ldquo;In the meantime I vote that we do not trouble
+      ourselves about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The subject was dropped, and not again referred to until after they had
+      reached home, when Hilda informed her mother that Signor Bruno had
+      returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I am very glad. You must ask him to dinner
+      to-morrow evening. Is he not a nice old man, Christian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very,&rdquo; replied Christian, almost before the words were out of her lips.
+      &ldquo;Yes, very nice.&rdquo; He looked across the table towards Hilda with an
+      absolutely expressionless composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the following day, which he passed with Sidney and Stanley at sea
+      in a little cutter belonging to the Carews, Christian learnt, without
+      asking many questions, all that Signor Bruno had vouchsafed in the way of
+      information respecting himself. It was a short story and an old one, such
+      as many a white-haired Italian could tell to-day. A life, income, and
+      energy devoted to a cause which never had much promise of reward. Failure,
+      exile, and a life closing in a land where the blue skies of Italy are
+      known only by name, where Maraschino is at a premium, and long black
+      cigars almost unobtainable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was engaged on this day to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mrs.
+      Farrar, at Farrar Court. Molly and Christian were to drive over for her in
+      the evening. This programme was carried out, but the young people lingered
+      rather longer at Farrar Court listening to the quaint, old-world
+      recollections of its white-haired hostess than was allowed for.
+      Consequently they were late, and heard the first dinner-bell ringing as
+      they drove up the lane that led in a casual way to their home. (This lane
+      was characteristic of the house. It turned off unobtrusively from the high
+      road at right angles with the evident intention of leading nowhere.) A
+      race upstairs ensued and a hurried toilet. Molly and Christian met on the
+      stairs a few minutes later. Christian had won the race, for he was ready,
+      while Molly struggled with a silver necklace that fitted closely round her
+      throat. Of course he had to help her. While waiting patiently for him to
+      master the intricacies of the old silver clasp, Molly said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christian, there is one place you have not seen yet. Quite close at
+      hand too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye&mdash;es,&rdquo; he replied absently, as he at length fixed the clasp.
+      &ldquo;There, it is done!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he held open the drawing-room door, he said: &ldquo;What is the place I have
+      to see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno, who was seated at the far end of the room with Mrs. Carew,
+      rose as he heard the door opened, and advanced to meet Molly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Porton Abbey,&rdquo; she said over her shoulder as she advanced into the room.
+      &ldquo;You must see Porton Abbey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian shook hands with the new-comers and made a clever, laughing
+      reference to Christian's politeness of the previous day. At this moment
+      Hilda entered, and as soon as she had returned Signor Bruno's courteous
+      salutation Molly turned towards her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hilda,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we have never shown Christian Porton Abbey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I have been reserving it for some afternoon when we
+      do not feel very energetic. Unfortunately, we cannot get inside the Abbey
+      now, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Christian, without looking towards Hilda. He had discovered
+      that Signor Bruno was attempting to keep up a conversation with his
+      hostess, while he took in that which was passing at the other end of the
+      room. The old man was seated, and his face was within the radius of light
+      cast by a shaded lamp. Christian, who stood, was in the shade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is a French monastery,&rdquo; replied Molly. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;is
+      a flower for your coat, as you say the button-hole is warped by constant
+      pinning in of stalks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; he replied, stooping a little in order that she could reach the
+      button-hole of his coat. She was in front of him, directly between him and
+      Signor Bruno; but he could see over her head. &ldquo;What sort of monastery is
+      it?&rdquo; he continued conversationally. &ldquo;I did not know that there were any
+      establishments of that sort in England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda looked up rather sharply from an illustrated newspaper she happened
+      to be studying. She knew that he was not adhering strictly to the truth.
+      From her point of vantage behind the newspaper she continued to watch
+      Christian, and she realised during the minutes that followed, that this
+      was indeed the brilliant young journalist of whose fame Farrar had spoken
+      as already known in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno's conversation with Mrs. Carew became at this moment somewhat
+      muddled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see,&rdquo; said Molly vivaciously, &ldquo;we endeavour to interest him by
+      retailing the simple annals of our neighbourhood, and his highness simply
+      disbelieves us!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; Christian hastened to add, with a laugh. &ldquo;It simply happened
+      that I was surprised. It shall not occur again. But tell me, what sort of
+      monastery is it? Dominican? Franciscan? Carmelite?&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, goodness! I do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Christian, advancing towards the Italian&mdash;&ldquo;perhaps
+      Signor Bruno can tell us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, Mr. Vell'cott?&rdquo; asked the old gentleman, making a movement
+      as if about to raise his curved hand to his ear, but restraining himself
+      upon second thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda noticed that, instead of raising his voice, Christian spoke in the
+      same tone, or even lower, as he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We want some details of the establishment at Porton Abbey, Signor Bruno.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman made a little grimace expressive of disgust, at the same
+      time spreading out his hands as if to ward off something hurtful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ach!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do not ask me. I know nothing of such people, and wish to
+      learn no more. It is to them that my poor country owes her downfall. No,
+      no; leave them alone. I always take care of myself against&mdash;against&mdash;what
+      you say&mdash;<i>ces gens-là</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian awaited the answer in polite silence, and, when Signor Bruno had
+      again turned to Mrs. Carew, he looked across the room towards Hilda with
+      the same expression of vacant composure that she had noticed on a previous
+      occasion. The accent with which Signor Bruno had spoken the few words of
+      French was of the purest Parisian, entirely free from the harshness which
+      an Italian rarely conquers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Hilda went out of the open window into the garden alone.
+      Christian, who had seated himself at a small table in the drawing-room,
+      did not move. Sidney and his mother were talking with the Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young journalist was stooping over a book, a vase of flowers stood in
+      front of him, but by the movement of his arm it appeared as if he were
+      drawing instead of reading. Presently a faint, low whistle came from the
+      garden. Though soft, the sound was very clear, and each note distinctly
+      given. It was like the beginning of a refrain which broke off suddenly and
+      was repeated. Signor Bruno gave a little start and a quick upward glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; he asked, with a little laugh, as if at the delicacy of
+      his own nerves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Carew, &ldquo;the whistle, you mean. That is our family
+      signal. The children were in the habit of calling each other by that means
+      in bygone years. I expect they are in the garden now, and wish us to join
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew knew that Molly was not in the garden, but in making this
+      intentional mistake she showed the wisdom of her kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, &ldquo;that the air&mdash;the refrain, one
+      might call it&mdash;is familiar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott smiled suddenly behind his screen of flowers, but did
+      not move or look up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect,&rdquo; explained Sidney, &ldquo;that you have heard the air played upon the
+      bugle. It is the French 'retraite,' played by the patrol in garrison towns
+      at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Christian had cut the fly-leaf from the book before him,
+      and, after carefully folding it, he placed the paper in his breast-pocket.
+      Then he rose and passed out of the open window into the garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately Signor Bruno asked his hostess a few polite questions
+      regarding her guest&mdash;what was his occupation, how long he was going
+      to stay, and whether she did not agree with him in considering that their
+      young friend had a remarkably interesting face. In the course of his
+      remarks the old gentleman rose and crossed to the table where Christian
+      had been sitting. There was a flower there which he had not seen in
+      England before. Absently he took up the book which Christian had just been
+      studying, and very naturally turned to the title-page. The fly-leaf was
+      gone! When he laid the volume down again he replaced it in the identical
+      position in which he had found it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX. A CLUE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Christian left the drawing-room he walked quickly down the moss-grown
+      path to the moat. Hilda was standing at the edge of the dark water, and as
+      he joined her she turned and walked slowly by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a most unsatisfactory person,&rdquo; she said gravely after a few
+      moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked down at her without replying. His eyes softened for a moment
+      into a smile, but his lips remained grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You deliberately set yourself,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;to shatter one illusion
+      after another. You have made me feel quite old and worldly to-night, and
+      the worst of it is that you are invariably right. It is most annoying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice was only half-playful. There was a shade of sadness in it.
+      Christian must have divined her thoughts, for he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not let us quarrel over Signor Bruno. I dare say I am wrong
+      altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked slowly round. Her eyes rested on the dark surface of the water,
+      where the shadows lay deep and still; then she raised them to the trees,
+      clearly outlined against the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that such practical, matter-of-fact people as you are proof
+      against mere outward influences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I used to imagine, but I am beginning to find that outward things are
+      very important after all. In London it seemed only natural that every one
+      should live in a hurry, with no time for thought, pushing forward and
+      trying to outstrip their neighbours; but in the country it seems that
+      things are different. Intellectual people live quiet, thoughtful, and even
+      dreamy lives. They get through somehow without seeing the necessity for
+      doing something&mdash;trying to be something that their neighbours cannot
+      be&mdash;and no doubt they are happier for it. I am beginning to see how
+      they are content to go on with their uneventful lives from year to year
+      until the end even comes without a shock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you yourself would never reach that stage, Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Hilda. I can understand it in others, but for me it is different.
+      I have tasted too deeply of the other life. I should get restless&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are getting restless already,&rdquo; she interrupted gravely, &ldquo;and you have
+      not been here two days!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were interrupted by Sidney's clear whistle, and a moment later Molly
+      came tripping down the path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come along in,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;the old gentleman is going. I was just
+      stealing away to join you when Sidney whistled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Signor Bruno reached his home that evening, he threw his hat upon the
+      table with some considerable force. His aged landlady, having left the
+      lamp burning, had retired to bed. He sank into an armchair, and
+      contemplated the square toes of his own boots for some moments. Then he
+      scratched his head thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sacré nom d'un chien!&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;where have I seen that face before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno spoke French when soliloquising, which was perhaps somewhat
+      peculiar for an Italian. However proficient a man may be in the mastery of
+      foreign tongues, he usually dreams and talks to himself in the language he
+      learnt at his mother's knee. He may count fluently in a strange tongue,
+      but he invariably works out all mental arithmetic in his own. Likewise he
+      prays&mdash;if he pray at all&mdash;in one tongue only. On the other hand,
+      it appears very easy to swear in an acquired language. Probably our
+      forefathers borrowed each other's expletives when things went so
+      lamentably wrong over the Tower of Babel. Still muttering to himself,
+      Signor Bruno presently retired to rest with the remembrance of a young
+      face, peculiarly and unpleasantly strong, haunting his dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shortly after Signor Bruno's departure, Christian happened to be left
+      alone in the drawing room with Hilda. He promptly produced from his pocket
+      the leaf he had cut from a book earlier in the evening. Unfolding the
+      paper, he handed it to her, and said:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you recognise that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at it, and answered without hesitation&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drawing was slight, but the likeness was perfect. The face was in
+      profile, and the reproduction of the intelligent features could scarcely
+      have been more lifelike in a careful portrait. Christian replaced the
+      paper in his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;his father belonged
+      to the Austrian Embassy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the envelope
+      the name that you will find inside&mdash;written by Trevetz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression of
+      wonder upon her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even if you are right,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;will it affect us? Will it make us
+      cease to look upon him as a friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; she said slowly, &ldquo;it has come. You remember now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I remember now&mdash;but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather
+      have my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know&mdash;or
+      think I know&mdash;about Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and
+      the subject was perforce dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It was
+      short, and not very pleasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR VELLACOTT,&mdash;Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your
+      holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see
+      from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in
+      the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they
+      were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded
+      by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained,
+      but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present
+      somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to us,
+      as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge of
+      French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject.
+      Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course, he
+      is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that there is
+      plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong party has
+      got up the whole affair&mdash;perhaps the Church. We must have something
+      to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in view I must
+      ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on receipt of a
+      telegram or letter from me.&mdash;Yours,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;C. C. BODERY.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly his
+      attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim round
+      the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the paper.
+      The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If Mr.
+      Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace would
+      have been left upon the envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw
+      that his movements had passed unobserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything new?&rdquo; asked Sidney, from the head of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;There has been a disturbance in Paris. I may
+      have to go over there on receipt of a telegram from the office;&rdquo; he
+      stopped, and looked slowly round the table. Hilda's attention was taken up
+      by her plate, upon which, however, there was nothing. He leant forward,
+      and handed her the toast-rack. She took a piece, but forgot to thank him.
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; he continued simply, &ldquo;very sorry that the disturbances
+      should have taken place just at this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice expressed natural and sincere regret, but no surprise. This
+      seemed to arouse Molly's curiosity, for she looked up sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not seem to be at all surprised,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;I am accustomed to this sort of thing, you see. I knew
+      all along that there was the chance of being summoned at any time. This
+      letter only adds to the chance&mdash;that is all!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great shame,&rdquo; said Molly, with a pout. &ldquo;I am sure there are
+      plenty of people who could do it instead of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed readily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure there are,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;and that is the very reason why I must
+      take the opportunities that fortune offers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda looked across the table at him, and noted the smile upon his lips,
+      the light of energy in his eyes. The love of action had driven all other
+      thoughts from his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; she said conversationally, &ldquo;that it will in reality be a good
+      thing for you if the summons does come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, without meeting her glance; &ldquo;it will be a good thing
+      for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that consolatory view of the matter the outcome of philosophy, or of
+      virtue?&rdquo; inquired Molly mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of virtue,&rdquo; replied Christian gravely, and then he changed the subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast he devoted a short time to the study of some newspaper
+      cuttings inclosed in Mr. Bodery's letter. Then he suddenly expressed his
+      determination of walking down to the village post office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to send a telegram, and to get some newspapers, which
+      have no doubt come by the second post. After that you will be troubled no
+      more about my affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until a telegram comes,&rdquo; said Hilda quietly, without looking up from a
+      letter she held in her hand. She received one daily from Farrar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian glanced at her with his quick smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I do not expect a telegram. It is not so serious as all
+      that. In fact, it is not worth thinking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a most enviable way of putting aside disagreeable subjects,&rdquo;
+       persisted Hilda, &ldquo;for discussion at a vague future period.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was steadily cheerful that morning, imperturbably practical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the outcome&mdash;not of virtue&mdash;but of
+      philosophy. Will you come to the post office with Stanley and me? I am
+      sure there is no possible household duty to prevent you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Together they walked through the peaceful fields. Stanley never lingered
+      long beside them; something was for ever attracting him aside or ahead,
+      and he ran restlessly away. Christian could not help noticing the
+      difference in Hilda's manner when they were alone together. The
+      semi-sarcastic <i>badinage</i> to which he had been treated lately was
+      completely dropped, and her earnest nature was allowed to show itself
+      undisguised. Still she was a mystery to him. He was by habit a close
+      observer, but her changing moods and humours were to him unaccountable. At
+      times she would make a remark the direct contradiction of which was
+      shining in her eyes, and at other times she remained silent when mere
+      politeness would seem to demand speech. Who knows? Perhaps at all times
+      and in all things they understood each other. When their lips were
+      exchanging mere nothings&mdash;the very lightest and emptiest of
+      conversational chaff&mdash;despite averted eyes, despite indifferent
+      manner, their souls may have been drawn together by that silent bond of
+      sympathy which holds through fair and foul, through laughter and tears,
+      through life and beyond death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was not in the habit of allowing himself to become absorbed by
+      any passing thoughts, however deep they might be. His mind had adapted
+      itself to the work required of it, as the human mind is ever ready to do.
+      No deep meditating was required of it, but a quick grasp and a somewhat
+      superficial treatment. Journalism is superficial, it cannot be otherwise;
+      it must be universal and immediate, and therefore its touch is necessarily
+      light. There is nothing permanent about it except the ceaseless throb of
+      the printing machine and the warm smell of ink. That which a man writes
+      one day may be rendered useless and worthless the next, through no
+      carelessness of his, but by the simple course of events. He must perforce
+      take up his pen again and write against himself. He may be inditing
+      history, and his words may be forgotten in twelve hours. There is no time
+      for deep thought, even if such were required. He who writes for cursory
+      reading is wise if he writes cursorily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery's communication in no manner disturbed Christian. He was ready
+      enough to talk and laugh, or talk and be grave, as Hilda might dictate,
+      while they walked side by side that morning, but she was strangely silent.
+      It thus happened that little passed between them until they reached the
+      post office. There, he was formally introduced to the spry little
+      postmistress, who looked at him sharply over her spectacles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish, Mrs. Chalder,&rdquo; he said cheerily, as he scribbled off his message
+      to Mr. Bodery, while Hilda made friendly overtures to the official cat, &ldquo;I
+      wish that you would forget to send me the disagreeable letters, and only
+      forward the pleasant ones. There was one this morning, for instance, which
+      you might very easily have mislaid. Instead of which you carefully sent it
+      rather earlier than usual and spoilt my breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice unconsciously followed the swing of his pencil. It seemed
+      certain that he was making conversation with the sole purpose of
+      entertaining the old woman. With a pleased laugh and a shake of her grey
+      curls she replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I wish I could, sir. I wish I could burn the bad letters and send on
+      only the good ones&mdash;but they're all alike on the outside. It's as
+      hard to say what's inside a letter as it is to tell what's inside a man by
+      lookin' on his face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Christian, reading over what he had just written. &ldquo;Yes,
+      Mrs. Chalder, you are right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the reason of your letter gettin' earlier this morning was that
+      Seen'yer Bruno said he was goin' past the Hall, sir, and would just leave
+      the letters at the Lodge. It is a bit out of the carrier's way, and that
+      man <i>do</i> have a long tramp every day, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that accounts for it,&rdquo; murmured the journalist, without looking up.
+      He was occupied in crossing his t's and dotting his i's. He felt that
+      Hilda was looking at him, and some instinct told him that she saw the
+      motive of his conversation, but still he played his part and wore his mask
+      of carelessness, as men have done before women, knowing the futility of
+      it, since the world began. She never referred to the incident, and made no
+      remark whatever with a view to his doing so, but he knew that it would be
+      remembered, and in after days he learnt to build up a very castle of hope
+      upon that frail foundation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda had not been paying much attention to what he was saying until
+      Signor Bruno's name was mentioned. The old man had hitherto occupied a
+      very secondary place in her thoughts. He was no one in her circle of
+      possibly interesting people, beyond the fact of his having passed through
+      a troubled political phase&mdash;a fighter on the losing side. Now he had,
+      as it were, assumed a more important <i>rôle</i>. The mention of his name
+      possessed a new suggestion: and all this, forsooth, because Christian
+      Vellacott opined that the benevolent old face was known to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to entertain exaggerated ideas concerning the young journalist's
+      thoughts and motives. Twice had she obtained a glimpse into the inner
+      chamber of his mind, and on each occasion the result had been a vague
+      suggestion of some mental conflict, some dark game of cross-purposes
+      between him and Signor Bruno. Remembering this, she, in her intelligent
+      simplicity, began to ascribe to Christian's every word and action an
+      ulterior motive which in reality did not perhaps exist. She noted
+      Christian's calm and direct way of reaching the end he desired, and
+      unconsciously she yielded a little to the influence of his strength&mdash;an
+      influence dangerously fascinating for a strong woman. Her strength is so
+      different from that of a man that there is no real conflict&mdash;it seeks
+      to yield, and glories over its own downfall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After paying for the telegram, Christian took possession of the bulky
+      packet of newspapers addressed to him, and they left the post office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X. ON THE SCENT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the
+      conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of
+      reviving it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; he began conversationally, &ldquo;is there any smuggling done now?
+      Real smuggling, I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I think not,&rdquo; replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon
+      smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you ask?&rdquo; interposed Hilda goodnaturedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was just wondering,&rdquo; replied the boy. &ldquo;It struck me yesterday
+      that our boat had been moved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; suggested Christian, &ldquo;it should be very easy to see whether it has
+      been dragged over the sand or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks
+      whatever on the sand,&rdquo; argued little Stanley, determined not to be cheated
+      out of his smugglers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and
+      enjoyment,&rdquo; suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was
+      saying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then how did he get the padlock open?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Smugglers, I suppose,&rdquo; said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother,
+      &ldquo;would be provided with skeleton keys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; replied Stanley in an awestruck tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you what we will do, Stanley,&rdquo; said Christian. &ldquo;To-morrow
+      morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the
+      boat and tell you whether it has been moved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; added Hilda, &ldquo;a telegram comes today.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; he said gravely, &ldquo;the world comes to an end this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation, that
+      Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened the
+      flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper, and Mr.
+      Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the closely-written sheets
+      upon which his hand was resting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is from Vellacott,&rdquo; said the editor, and after a moment's thought he
+      read aloud as follows:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the
+      whole affair. Will write particulars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That young man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;goes about the world with his eyes remarkably
+      wide open, ha-ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not be
+      delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same
+      afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak
+      tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the south-west,
+      obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle breeze blew gaily
+      across the bleak upland&mdash;a very different breath from that which
+      twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not care about climbing <i>down</i> there, I should think,&rdquo;
+       observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. &ldquo;It is a very different
+      matter getting up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing, gazing lazily up at the brown cliffs with his straw hat
+      tilted backwards, his hands in his pockets, and his whole person
+      presenting as fair a picture as one could desire of lazy, quiescent
+      strength&mdash;a striking contrast to the nervous, wiry townsman at his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly,&rdquo; replied Christian, gazing upwards at the dizzy height. &ldquo;It is
+      rather nasty stuff&mdash;slippery in parts and soft.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and strolled off by Hilda's side. With a climber's love of a
+      rocky height he looked upwards as they walked, and she noted the direction
+      of his gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they sat on the edge of the boat over which Stanley's sense of
+      proprietorship had been so grievously outraged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know, Christian, or what do you suspect about Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+       asked Hilda suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stanley was running across the sands towards them, and Christian, seeing
+      his approach, avoided the question by a generality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a little longer,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Let me have Trevetz's answer to confirm
+      my suspicions, and then I will tell you. Suspicions are dangerous things
+      to meddle with. In imparting them to other people it is so difficult to
+      remember that they <i>are</i> suspicions and nothing more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Stanley arrived and threw himself down breathlessly on the
+      warm sand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chris!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;come down here and look at these seams in the boat&mdash;the
+      damp is there still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boat was clinker-built, and where the planks overlapped a slight
+      appearance of dampness was certainly discernible. Christian lay lazily
+      leaning upon his elbow, sometimes glancing at the boat in obedience to
+      Stanley's accusatory finger, sometimes looking towards Hilda, whose eyes
+      were turned seawards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he caught sight of some words pencilled on the stern-post of the
+      boat, and by the merest chance refrained from calling Stanley's attention
+      to them. Drawing nearer, he could read them easily enough.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Minuit vingt-six.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It certainly looks,&rdquo; he said rising, &ldquo;as if the boat had been in the
+      water, but it may be that the dampness is merely owing to heavy dew. The
+      boat wants painting, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew well enough that little Stanley's suspicions were correct. There
+      was no doubt that the boat had been afloat quite recently; but Christian
+      knew his duty towards the <i>Beacon</i> and sacrificed his strict sense of
+      truth to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the way home he was somewhat pre-occupied&mdash;as much, that is to
+      say, as he was in the habit of allowing. The pencil scrawl supplied food
+      enough for conjectural thought. The writing was undoubtedly fresh, and
+      this was the 26th of the month. Some appointment was made for midnight by
+      the words pencilled on the boat, and the journalist determined that he
+      would be there to see. The question was, should he go alone? He watched
+      Sidney Carew walking somewhat heavily along in front of him, and decided
+      that he would not seek aid from that quarter. There was no time to
+      communicate with Mr. Bodery, so the only course open to him was to go by
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a vague manner he had connected the Jesuit party with the disturbances
+      in Paris and the importation of the English rifles wherewith the crowd had
+      been armed. The gay capital was at that time in the hands of the most
+      &ldquo;Provisional&rdquo; and uncertain Government imaginable, and the home politics
+      of France were completely disorganised. It was just the moment for the
+      Church party to attempt a retrieval of their lost power. The fire-arms had
+      been recognised by the English authorities as some of a pattern lately
+      discarded. They had been stored at Plymouth, awaiting shipment to the
+      colonies, where they were to be served out to the auxiliary forces, when
+      they had been cleverly removed. The robbery was not discovered until the
+      rifles were found in the hands of a Paris mob, still fresh and brutal from
+      the horrors of a long course of military law. Some of the more fiery of
+      the French journals boldly hinted that the English Government had secretly
+      sold the firearms with a view to their ultimate gain by the
+      disorganisation of France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian knew as much about affairs in Paris as most men. He was fully
+      aware that in the politics of a disturbed country a deed is either a crime
+      or a heroism according to circumstances, and he was wise enough to await
+      the course of events before thrusting his opinion down the public throat.
+      But now he felt that the crisis had supervened, and unwillingly he
+      recognised that it was not for him to be idle amidst those rapid events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked inland from the Cove, and
+      rendered his answers to Stanley's ceaseless flow of questions upon all
+      conceivable subjects somewhat vague and unreliable. Hilda was walking with
+      them, and divided with Christian the task of supplying her small brother
+      with varied information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were approaching the Hall, Christian discerned two figures upon
+      the smooth lawn, evidently coming towards them. At the same moment Stanley
+      perceived them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see Fred Farrar and Mr. Signor Bruno,&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian could not resist glancing over the little fellow's head towards
+      Hilda, though he knew that it was hardly a fair action. Hilda felt the
+      glance but betrayed no sign. She was looking straight in front of her with
+      no change of colour, no glad smile of welcome for her stalwart lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder why she never told me,&rdquo; thought Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he said, in an airy, conversational way: &ldquo;I did not know Farrar
+      was coming back so&mdash;so soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew that by this early return Farrar was missing an important day of
+      the race-meeting he had been attending, but did not think it necessary to
+      remark upon the fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hilda. &ldquo;He does not like to leave his mother for many days
+      together.&rdquo; The acutest ears could have detected no lowering of the voice,
+      no tenderness of thought. She was simply stating a fact; but she might
+      have been speaking of Signor Bruno, so cool and unembarrassed was her
+      tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad he is back,&rdquo; said Christian thoughtlessly. It was a mere
+      stop-gap. The silence was awkward, but he possessed tact enough to have
+      broken it by some better means. Instantly he recognised his mistake, and
+      for a moment he felt as if he were stumbling blindfold through an unknown
+      country. He experienced a sudden sense of vacuity as if his mind were a
+      blank and all words futile. It was now Stanley's turn to break the
+      silence, and unconsciously he did it very well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said speculatively, &ldquo;whether he has brought any chocolate
+      creams?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed, and the smile was still hovering in her eyes when she
+      greeted the two men. Stanley ran on into the house to open a parcel which
+      Farrar told him was awaiting inspection. It was only natural that Hilda
+      should walk on with the young squire, leaving Bruno and Christian
+      together. The old man lingered obviously, and his companion took the hint
+      readily enough, anticipating some enjoyment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To you, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; said the Italian, with senile geniality, &ldquo;to you
+      whose life is spent in London this must be very charming, very peaceful,
+      and&mdash;very disorganising, I may perhaps add.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked at his companion with grave attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very enjoyable,&rdquo; he replied simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno mentally trimmed his sails, and started off on another tack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our young friends,&rdquo; he said, indicating with a wave of his expressive
+      hand Hilda and Farrar, &ldquo;are admirably suited to each other. Both young,
+      both handsome, and both essentially English.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian, with a polite display of interest: &ldquo;and,
+      nevertheless, the Carews were all brought up and educated in France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; observed the old man, stopping to raise the head of a &ldquo;Souvenir de
+      Malmaison,&rdquo; of which he inhaled the odour with evident pleasure. The
+      little ejaculation, and its accompanying action, were admirably calculated
+      to leave the hearer in doubt as to whether mere surprise was expressed or
+      polite acquiescence in the statement of a known fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; added Christian, deliberately. He also stooped and raised a white
+      rose to his face, thus meeting Signor Bruno upon his own ground. The
+      Italian looked up, and the two men smiled at each other across the rose
+      bush; then they turned and walked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You also know France?&rdquo; hazarded Signor Bruno.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; if I were not an Englishman I should choose to be a Frenchman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now with me,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno frankly, &ldquo;it is different. If I were not
+      an Italian (which God forbid!) I think&mdash;I think, yes, I am sure, I
+      would by choice have been born an Englishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; observed Christian gravely, and Signor Bruno turned sharply to
+      glance at his face. The young Englishman was gazing straight in front of
+      him earnestly, with no suspicion upon his lips of the incredulous smile
+      which seemed somehow to have lurked there when he last spoke. The Italian
+      turned away dissatisfied, and they walked on a few paces in silence, until
+      he spoke again, reflectively:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is a quality in the English character which to me
+      is very praiseworthy. It is a certain directness of purpose. You know what
+      you wish to do, and you proceed calmly to do it, without stopping to
+      consider what your neighbours may think of it. Now with the Gallic races&mdash;for
+      I take this virtue of straightforwardness as Teutonic&mdash;and in my own
+      country especially, men seek to gain their ends by less open means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were now walking up a gentle incline to the house, which was built
+      upon the buried ruins of its ancient predecessor, and Signor Bruno was
+      compelled to pause in order to gain breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; interposed Christian softly, &ldquo;you are now talking not so much of
+      the people as of the Church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Italian looked sharply up, and this time he met his companion's
+      eyes fixed quietly on his face. He shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly
+      and spread out his delicate hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right,&rdquo; he said, with engaging frankness. &ldquo;I am afraid
+      you are. But you must excuse a little ill-feeling in a man such as I, with
+      a past such as mine has been, and loving his country as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; continued Christian, &ldquo;that foreigners find our bluntness
+      very disagreeable and difficult to meet; but I know that they frequently
+      misjudge us on the same account. It is to our benefit, so we cannot
+      complain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what way do we misjudge you?&rdquo; asked Signor Bruno genially. They were
+      almost on the threshold of the drawing-room window, which stood invitingly
+      open, and from which came the sounds of cups and saucers being mated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You give us credit for less intelligence than we in reality possess,&rdquo;
+       said Christian with a smile, as he stood aside to let his companion pass
+      in first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever influences may have been at work among those congregated at the
+      Hall during the half-hour or so occupied by afternoon tea, no sign
+      appeared upon the surface. Molly as usual led the chorus of laughter.
+      Hilda smiled her sweet &ldquo;kittenish&rdquo; smile. Signor Bruno surpassed himself
+      in the relation of innocent little tales, told with a true southern
+      &ldquo;verve&rdquo; and spirit, while Fred Farrar's genial laugh filled in the
+      interstices reliably. Grave and unobtrusive, Christian moved about among
+      them. He saw when Molly wanted the hot water, and was invariably the first
+      to detect an empty cup. He laughed softly at Signor Bruno's stories, and
+      occasionally capped them with a better, related in a conciser and equally
+      humorous manner. It was to him that Farrar turned for an encouraging
+      acquiescence when one of his latest Newmarket anecdotes threatened to fall
+      flat, and with it all he found time for an occasional spar with Signor
+      Bruno, just by way of keeping that inquiring gentleman upon his guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI. BURY BLUFF
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As Christian walked rapidly across the uneven turf towards the sea at
+      midnight, his thoughts were divided between a schoolboy delight in the
+      adventurous nature of his expedition and an uncomfortable sensation of
+      surreptitiousness. He was not accustomed to this sort of work, and felt
+      remarkably like a thief. If by some mischance his absence was discovered
+      at the Hall, it would be difficult to account for it unless he played the
+      part of a temporary lunatic. Fortunately his window communicated easily
+      enough with the garden by means of a few stone steps, but visitors are not
+      usually in the habit of leaving their bedrooms in order to take the air at
+      midnight. Thinking over these things in his rapid and rather superficial
+      way, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The night was clear and starlit; the air soft and very pleasant, with a
+      faint breath of freshness from the south-west. The moon, being well upon
+      the wane, would not rise for an hour or more, but the heavens were glowing
+      with the gentler light of stars, and on earth the darkness was of that
+      transparent description which sailors prefer to the brightest moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott had worked out most problems in life for himself.
+      Taken as a whole, his solutions had been fairly successful&mdash;as
+      successful as those of most men. If his views upon things in general were
+      rather photographic&mdash;that is to say, hard, with clearly defined
+      shadows&mdash;it was owing to his father's somewhat cynical training and
+      to the absence of a mother's influence. Elderly maiden ladies, with
+      sufficient time upon their hands to manage other people's affairs in
+      addition to their own, complained of his want of sympathy, which may be
+      read in the sense of stating that he neither sought theirs nor asked
+      advice upon questions connected with himself. This self-reliance was the
+      inevitable outcome of his life at home and at the office of the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      Admirable as it may be, independence can undoubtedly be carried to an
+      unpleasant excess&mdash;unpleasant that is for home life. Women love to
+      see their men-folk a trifle dependent upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was in the midst of a problem as he walked across the tableland
+      that stretched from St. Mary Western to the sea. That problem absorbed
+      more of his attention than the home politics of France; it required a more
+      careful study than any article he had ever penned for the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      It gave him greater anxiety than Aunt Judy and Aunt Hester combined. Yet
+      it was comprised in a single word. A single arm could encompass the whole
+      of it. The single word&mdash;Hilda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Leaving the narrow road, he presently struck the little pathway leading to
+      the Cove. Suddenly he stopped, and stood motionless. There&mdash;not
+      twenty yards from him&mdash;was the still figure of a man. Behind
+      Christian the land rose gradually to some considerable height, so that he
+      stood in darkness, while against the glowing sky the figure of this
+      watcher was clearly defined in hard outline. Instinctively crouching down
+      and seeking the covert of a few low bushes, Christian decreased the
+      intervening distance by a few yards. The faint hope that it might prove to
+      be a coastguard was soon dispelled. The heavy clothing and loose
+      thigh-boots were those of a fisherman. The huge &ldquo;cache-nez&rdquo; which lay in
+      coils upon his shoulders and completely protected the neck and throat, was
+      such as is worn by the natives of the Côtes-du-Nord.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sea boomed forth its melancholy song, far down in the black depths
+      beyond. The tide was high, and the breeze freshening every moment.
+      Christian could have crept up to the man's very feet without being
+      detected. Lying still upon the short, dry grass, he watched for some
+      moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the man's clumsy attitude it was almost possible to divine his slow,
+      mindless nature&mdash;for there is expression in the very turn of a man's
+      leg as he stands&mdash;and it was easy to see that he was guarding the
+      little path down the cliff to the Cove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been posted there, and evidently meant to stay till called away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one way, now, to the Cove, and that was down the face of
+      the cliff: the way that Christian had that very afternoon pronounced so
+      hazardous. By day it was dangerous enough; by night it was almost an
+      impossibility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He crept noiselessly along to the eastward, so that the watcher stood upon
+      the windward side of him, and reaching the brink he peered over into the
+      darkness. Of course he could discern nothing. The sea rose and fell with a
+      monotonous roar; overhead the stars twinkled as merrily as they have
+      twinkled over the strifes of men from century to century.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quietly he knelt upright and buttoned his coat with some care. Then
+      without a moment's hesitation he crept to the edge and cautiously
+      disappeared into the grim abyss of darkness. Slowly and laboriously he
+      worked his way down, feeling for each foothold in advance. Occasionally he
+      muttered impatiently to himself at the slowness of his progress. He knew
+      that the strata of soft sandstone trended downwards at an easy angle, and
+      with consummate skill took full advantage of his knowledge. Occasionally
+      he was forced to progress sideways with his face to the rock and hands
+      outstretched till his fingers were cramped, and the feeling known as &ldquo;pins
+      and needles&rdquo; assailed his arms. Then he would rest for some moments,
+      peering into the darkness below him all the while. Once or twice he
+      dropped a small stone cautiously, holding it at arm's length. When the
+      tiny messenger touched earth soon after leaving his hand, he continued his
+      downward progress. Once, no sound followed for some seconds, and then it
+      was only a distant concussion far down beside the sea. With an involuntary
+      shudder, the climber turned and made his way upwards and sideways again,
+      before venturing to descend once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For half an hour he continued his perilous struggle, till his strong arms
+      were stiff and his fingers almost powerless. With marvellous tenacity he
+      held to his purpose. Never since leaving the summit had he been able to
+      rest both hands at once. With a dogged, mechanical endurance which is
+      essentially characteristic of climbers and mountaineers, he lowered
+      himself, inch by inch, foot by foot. Louder and louder sang the sea, as if
+      in derision at his petty efforts, but through his head there rushed
+      another sound infinitely more terrible: a painful, continuous buzz, which
+      seemed to press upon his temples. A dull pain was slowly creeping up the
+      muscles of his neck towards his head. All these symptoms the climber knew.
+      The buzzing in his ears would never cease until he could lie down and
+      breathe freely with every muscle relaxed, every sinew slack. The dull ache
+      would creep up until it reached his brain, and then nothing could save him&mdash;no
+      strength of will could prevent his fingers from relaxing their hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sish&mdash;sish, sish&mdash;sish!&rdquo; laughed the waves below. Placidly the
+      stars held on their stately course&mdash;each perhaps peopled by millions
+      of its own&mdash;young and old, tame and fiery&mdash;all pursuing shadows
+      as we do here.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is getting serious,&rdquo; muttered Christian, with a pitiful laugh. The
+      perspiration was running down his face, burning his eyes, and dripping
+      from his chin. With straining eyes he peered into the night. Close beneath
+      him there was a ledge of some breadth. It was not flat, but inclined
+      upwards from the face of the cliff, thus forming a shelf of solid stone.
+      For some seconds he stared continuously at this, so as to reduce to a
+      minimum the chance of being mistaken. Then with great caution he slid down
+      the steep incline of smooth stone and landed safely. The glissade lasted
+      but a moment, nevertheless it recalled to his mind a picture which was
+      indelibly stamped in his memory. Years before he had seen a man slide like
+      this, unintentionally, after a false step. Again that picture came to him&mdash;unimpressionable
+      as his life had rendered him. Again he saw the glittering expanse of snow,
+      and on it the broad, strong figure of the Vaudois guide sliding down and
+      down, with madly increasing speed&mdash;feet foremost, skilful to the
+      last. Again he felt the thrill which men cannot but experience at the
+      sight of a man, or even of a dumb beast, fighting bravely for life. Again
+      he saw the dull gleam of the uplifted ice-axe as the man dealt scientific
+      blow after blow on the frozen snow, attempting to arrest his terrible
+      career. And again in his mind's eye the pure expanse of spotless white lay
+      before him, scarred by one straight streak, marking where the taciturn
+      mountaineer had vanished over the edge of the precipice to his certain
+      doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian lay like a half-drowned man upon the shelving ledge, slowly
+      realising his position. He calculated that he could not yet be half-way
+      down, and his strength was almost exhausted. Yet, as he lay there, no
+      thought of waiting for daylight, no question of retreat entered his
+      stubborn West-country brain. The exploit still possessed for him the
+      elements of a good joke, to be related thereafter in such a manner as
+      would enforce laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly&mdash;within the softer sound of the sea below&mdash;a harsh,
+      grating noise struck his ears. It was to him like the sound made by a
+      nailed boot upon rock. It was as if another were following him down the
+      face of the cliff. In a second he was upon his feet, his weariness a thing
+      forgotten. Overhead, against the starlit sky, he could define the line of
+      rock with its sharp, broken angles and uncouth turns. Not thirty feet
+      above him something was moving. His first feeling was one of intense fear.
+      Every climber knows that it is easier to pass a difficult corner than to
+      stand idle, watching another do it. Slowly the dark form came downwards,
+      and suddenly, with a quick sense of unutterable relief, Christian saw the
+      black line of a tightened rope. When it was barely ten feet above him he
+      saw that the object was no man, but a square case. In a flash of thought
+      he divined what the box contained, and unhesitatingly ran along the ledge
+      towards it. As it descended he seized it with both hands and swung it in
+      towards himself. With pendulum-like motion it descended, and at last
+      touched the rock at his feet. As this took place he grasped the rope with
+      both hands and threw his entire weight upon it, hauling slowly in, hand
+      over hand. So quickly and deftly was this carried out that those lowering
+      overhead were deceived, and continued to pay out the rope slowly. Steadily
+      Christian hauled in, the slack falling in snake-like coils at his feet.
+      Only being able to guess at his position on the cliff, it was no easy
+      matter to calculate how much rope it was necessary to take in in order to
+      carry out the deception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length he ceased abruptly, and proceeded to untie the knots round the
+      bale. Then, after the manner of a sailor who is working out of sight with
+      a life-line, he jerked the rope, which immediately began to ascend rapidly
+      and with irregularity. Coil after coil ran easily away, and at last the
+      frayed end passed into the darkness above Christian's head. He stood there
+      watching it, and when it had disappeared he burst into a low hoarse laugh
+      which suddenly broke off into a sickening gurgle, and he fell sideways and
+      backwards on to the box, clutching at it with his nerveless fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he recovered his faculties his first sensation was one of great cold.
+      The breeze had freshened with the approach of dawn, and blowing full upon
+      him as he lay bathed in perspiration, the effect was like that of a
+      refrigerator. He moved uneasily, and found that he was lying on the stone
+      ledge <i>outside</i> the box, from which he had fallen. After a moment, he
+      rose rapidly to his feet as if desirous of dismissing the memory of his
+      own collapse, and turned his attention to the bundle. Beneath the rough
+      covering of canvas, which was not sewn but merely lashed round, it was
+      easy enough to detect the shape of the case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What luck&mdash;what wonderful luck,&rdquo; he muttered, as he groped round the
+      surface of the bundle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed it seemed as if everything had arranged itself for his special
+      benefit and advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The three men whose duty it had been to lower the case coiled up their
+      rope and started off on foot inland, after telling the sentinel stationed
+      at the head of the little path to rejoin his boat. This the man was only
+      too willing to do at once. He was a semi-superstitious Breton of no great
+      intelligence, who vastly preferred being afloat in his unsavoury yawl to
+      climbing about unknown rocks in the dark. On the beach, he found his two
+      comrades, to whom he gruffly imparted the information that they were to go
+      on board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had the 'monsieur' said nothing else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, the 'monsieur' said nothing else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Breton intellect is not, as a rule, acute. Like sheep the three men
+      proceeded to carry up from the water's edge Stanley's boat, which was
+      required to carry the heavy case, their own dinghy being too small. This
+      done, they rowed off silently to the yawl, which was rolling lazily in the
+      trough of the sea, a quarter of a mile from the shore. Once on board they
+      were regaled with some choice French profanity from the lips of a large
+      man in a sealskin cap and a dirty woollen muffler. This gentleman they
+      addressed as the &ldquo;patron,&rdquo; and, with clumsy awe, informed him that they
+      had waited at the same spot as before, but nothing had come, until at
+      length Hoel Grall arrived with instructions from the &ldquo;monsieur&rdquo; to go on
+      board. Whereupon further French profanity, followed by unintelligible
+      orders, freely interlarded with embellishments of a forcible tenor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the yawl swung slowly round and stood out to sea, Christian turned to
+      climb up Bury Bluff. He found that he had in reality made very little
+      progress in descending. Before leaving the case, he edged it by degrees
+      nearer to the base of the ledge, which would render it invisible from the
+      beach. The ascent was soon accomplished, and after a cautious search he
+      concluded that no one was about, so set off home at a rapid pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before he reached the Hall the light of coming day was already creeping up
+      into the eastern sky. All nature was stirring, refreshed with the balmy
+      dew and coolness of the night. Far up in the higher branches of the
+      Weymouth pines, the wrens were awake, calling to each other with tentative
+      twitter, and pluming themselves the while for another day of sunshine and
+      song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a thief Christian hurried on, and creeping into his bedroom window,
+      was soon sleeping the dreamless, forgetful sleep of youth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By seven o'clock he was awake with all the quick realisation of a
+      Londoner. In the country men wake up slowly, and slowly gather together
+      their senses after an all-sufficing sleep of ten hours. In cities, five,
+      four, or even three are sufficient for the unfatigued body and the
+      restless mind. Men wake up quickly, and are at once in full possession of
+      their faculties. It is, after all, a mere matter of habit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had slept sufficiently. He rose quite fresh and strong, and
+      presently sat down, coatless to write.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Page after page he wrote, turning each leaf over upon its face as it was
+      completed&mdash;never referring back, never hesitating, and only
+      occasionally raising his pen from the paper. Line after line of neat,
+      small writing, quite different from what his friends knew in letters or on
+      envelopes, flowed from his pen. It was his &ldquo;press&rdquo; handwriting, plain,
+      rapid, and as legible as print. The punctuation was attended to with
+      singular care: the commas broad and heavy, the colons like the kisses in a
+      child's letter, round and black. Once or twice he smiled as he wrote, and
+      occasionally jerked his head to one side critically as he re-read a
+      sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In less than two hours it was finished. He rose from his seat, and walked
+      slowly to the window. Standing there he gazed thoughtfully across the
+      bare, unlovely tableland towards the sea. He had written many hundreds of
+      pages, all more or less masterly; he had read criticisms upon his own work
+      saying that it was good; and yet he knew that the best&mdash;the best he
+      had ever written&mdash;lay upon the table behind him. Then he turned and
+      shook the loose leaves together symmetrically. Pensively he counted them.
+      He was young and strong; the world and life lay before him, with their
+      infinite possibilities&mdash;their countless opportunities to be seized or
+      left. He looked curiously at the written pages. The writing was his own;
+      the form of every letter was familiar; the heavy punctuation and clean,
+      closely written lines such as the compositor loved to deal with; and while
+      he turned the leaves over he wondered if ever he would do better, for he
+      knew that it was good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII. A WARNING WORD
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As the breakfast-bell echoed through the house Christian ran downstairs.
+      He met Hilda entering the open door with the letters in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down already?&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied incautiously, &ldquo;I wished to get the letters early.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, after all, there is nothing for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;No, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly, and
+      apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a
+      peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied the
+      envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address. Presently he
+      raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a letter daintily
+      between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little puffs of her
+      pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the infantile
+      amusement immensely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside for
+      her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill
+      operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mr. Trevetz's answer&mdash;I suppose it is one of those letters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes!&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I had forgotten my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One is from Trevetz,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;and the other from Mrs. Strawd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing from Mr. Bodery?&rdquo; asked she indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's
+      letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his
+      occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very glad,&rdquo; she murmured conventionally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I,&rdquo; he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it
+      critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M-a-x,&rdquo; she read; &ldquo;how badly it is written! Max&mdash;Max Talma&mdash;is
+      that it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered gravely, &ldquo;that is it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open the
+      envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf of a
+      novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as she
+      unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the open
+      sketch to him. At the foot was written:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Max Talma&mdash;look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In haste, C.T.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his
+      pocket. &ldquo;Trevetz writes in a good forcible style,&rdquo; he said, turning to
+      greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an instant
+      her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as she caught
+      sight of her sister and Christian standing together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you just down?&rdquo; she asked carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian, still holding her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just come down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the
+      station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was printed
+      Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the guard, who
+      would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at Paddington, and the
+      editor of the <i>Beacon</i> would receive it by four o'clock in the
+      afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was
+      satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a
+      brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon. This
+      was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer. The
+      lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family
+      assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were
+      left open for those who wished to pass in and out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework,
+      while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy,
+      while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney was
+      reading in his own room&mdash;reading for a vague law examination which
+      always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was seated at the piano, playing by snatches and turning over
+      the brown leaves of some very old music, unearthed from a lumber-room by
+      Mrs. Carew for his benefit. He waited for no thanks or comment; sometimes
+      he read a few bars only, sometimes a page. He appeared to have forgotten
+      that he had an audience. Presently he rose, leaving the music in disorder.
+      Hilda had been called away some time before by an old village woman
+      requiring medicaments for unheard-of symptoms. Christian looked slowly
+      round the room, then raising his hand he dexterously caught a huge moth
+      which had flown past his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he crossed the room towards the open window, with a view of liberating
+      the moth, a low whistle reached his ear. The refrain was that of the
+      familiar &ldquo;retraite.&rdquo; Hilda had evidently gone out to the moat by another
+      door. Bowing his head, he passed between the muslin curtains and
+      disappeared in the darkness. The sound of his footsteps died away almost
+      immediately amidst the rustle of branch and leaf already crisp with
+      approaching change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Stanley's bed-time. Mechanically, Molly kissed her brother,
+      continuing to work thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes the door opened and Hilda entered the room. She came up
+      to the table, and standing there with her hands resting upon some pieces
+      of Molly's work, she gave a graphic description of the old woman's
+      complaints and maladies. She stood quite close to Molly, and told her
+      story to Mrs. Carew merrily, failing to notice that her sister had ceased
+      sewing, and was listening with a surprised look in her eyes. When the
+      symptoms had been detailed and laughed over, Hilda turned quietly and
+      passed out into the garden. With fearless familiarity she ran lightly down
+      the narrow pathway towards the moat, but no signal-whistle greeted her.
+      The leaves rustled and whispered overhead; the water lapped and gurgled at
+      her feet, but there was no sign or sound of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Silent and motionless she stood, a tall fair form clad in white, amidst
+      the universal, darkness. So silent and so still that it might have been
+      the shade of some fair maid of bygone years mourning the loss of her true
+      knight, who in all the circumstances of war had crossed that same moat
+      never to return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a sudden feeling of loneliness, a new sense of fear, came over
+      Hilda. All around was so forbidding. The water at her feet was so black
+      and mysterious. She gave a soft low whistle identical with that which had
+      called Christian out twenty minutes before, but it remained unanswered,
+      and through the rustling leaves she sped towards the house. From the open
+      window a glow of rosy light shone forth upon the flowers, imparting to all
+      alike a pallid pink, and dimly defining the grey tree-trunks across the
+      lawn. As Hilda stepped between the curtains, the servants entered the
+      drawing-room in solemn Indian file for evening prayers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew looked up from the Bible which lay open before her, and said to
+      Hilda:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Christian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, mother; he is not in the garden,&rdquo; answered the girl,
+      crossing the room to her own particular chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney rose from his seat, and going to the window, sent his loud clear
+      whistle away into the night. His broad figure remained motionless for some
+      minutes, almost filling up the window; then he silently resumed his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew smoothed down the silken book-marker, and began reading in a
+      low voice. It is to be feared that the Psalmist's words of joy were not
+      heard with understanding ears that night. A short prayer followed; softly
+      and melodiously Mrs. Carew asked for blessings upon the bowed heads around
+      her, and the servants left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you not seen Christian since you went to see Mrs. Sender, Hilda?&rdquo;
+       asked Molly, at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Hilda, arranging the music into something like order upon
+      the piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He went out about half an hour ago, in answer to your whistle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned her head as if about to reply hastily, but checked herself,
+      and resumed her task of setting the music in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could I whistle,&rdquo; she asked gently, &ldquo;when I was in the kitchen doling
+      out medicated cotton-wool to Mrs. Sender?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molly looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did <i>you</i> whistle, Sidney?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;no; I was half-asleep over a law-book in my own room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect he has gone for a stroll, and forgotten the time,&rdquo; suggested
+      Mrs. Carew reassuringly, as she sat down to work again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what about the whistle; are you sure you heard it, Molly?&rdquo; asked
+      Hilda, speaking rather more quickly than was habitual with her. She walked
+      towards the window and drew aside the curtain, keeping her back turned
+      towards the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Molly uneasily. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I heard it, and so did he, for
+      he went out at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney stood awkwardly with his shoulder against the mantelpiece,
+      listening in a half-hearted way to his sisters' conversation. With a heavy
+      jerk he threw himself upright and slowly crossed the room. He stood for
+      some moments immediately behind Hilda without touching her. Then he raised
+      his hand and with gentle, almost caressing pressure round her waist, he
+      made her step aside so that he could pass out. He was a singularly
+      undemonstrative man, rarely giving way to what he considered the weakness
+      of a caress. Fortunately, however, for their own happiness, his womenfolk
+      understood him, and especially between himself and Hilda there existed a
+      peculiar unspoken sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the ordinary way he would have mumbled&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le'mme out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this occasion he touched her waist gently, and the caress almost
+      startled her. It seemed like a confession that he shared the vague anxiety
+      which she concealed so well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the charity of maternal love, which is by no means so blind as is
+      generally supposed, Mrs. Carew often said of Sidney that he invariably
+      rose to the occasion; and Mrs. Carew's statements were as a rule correct.
+      His slowness was partly assumed; his indifference was a mere habit. The
+      assumption of the former saved him infinite worry and responsibility; the
+      habit of indifference did away with the necessity of coming to a decision
+      upon general questions. This state of mind may, to townsmen, be
+      incomprehensible. Certain it is that such as are in that condition are not
+      found among the foremost dwellers in cities. But in the country it is a
+      different matter. Such cases are only too common, and (without breath of
+      disparagement) they are usually to be found in households where one man
+      finds himself among several women&mdash;be the latter mother and sisters,
+      or wife and sisters-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man may be a thorough sportsman, he may be an excellent landlord and a
+      popular squire, but within his own doors he is overwhelmed. Chivalry bids
+      him give way to the wishes and desires of some woman or other, and if he
+      be a sportsman he is necessarily chivalrous. When one is tired after a
+      long day in the saddle or with a gun, it is so much easier to acquiesce
+      and philosophically persuade oneself that the matter is not worth airing
+      an adverse opinion over. This is the beginning, and if any beginning can
+      look forward to great endings it is that of a habit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would appear that Sidney Carew's occasion had come at last, for once
+      outside the window he changed to a different being. The lazy slouch
+      vanished from his movements, his eyes lost their droop, and he held his
+      head erect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made his way rapidly to the stable, and there, without the knowledge of
+      the grooms, he obtained a large hurricane-lamp, lighted it, and returned
+      towards the house. From the window Hilda saw him pass down a little path
+      towards the moat, with the lamp swinging at his side, while the shadows
+      waved backwards and forwards across the lawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mind is a strange storehouse. However long a memory may have been
+      warehoused there, deep down beneath piles of other remembrances and
+      conceits, it is generally to be found at the top when the demand comes,
+      ready for use&mdash;for good or evil. A dim recollection was resuscitated
+      in Sidney's mind. An unauthenticated nursery tale of a departing guest
+      leaving with a word of joy upon his lips and warm comfort in his heart,
+      turning from the glowing doorway and walking down the little pathway
+      straight into the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, however, was an excellent swimmer; he knew every inch of the
+      pathway, every stone round the moat. That he should have been drowned in
+      ten feet of clear water, with an easy landing within ten yards, seemed the
+      wildest impossibility. Of course such things have happened, but Christian
+      Vellacott was essentially wide awake, and unlikely to come to mishap
+      through his own carelessness. Of all these things Sidney thought as he
+      walked rapidly towards the moat, and in particular he pondered over
+      Molly's statement that she had heard Hilda whistle. This had met with flat
+      denial from Hilda, and Sidney, with brotherly candour, could only arrive
+      at the conclusion that Molly had been mistaken. He would not give way to
+      the least suggestion of anxiety even in his own mind. After all Christian
+      would probably come in with some simple explanation and a laugh for their
+      fears. It often happens thus, as we must all know. The moments so long and
+      dreary for the watcher, whose imagination gains more and more power as the
+      time passes, slip away unheeded by the awaited, who treats the matter with
+      a laugh or, at the most, a few conventional words of sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney stood at the edge of the water and threw the beams of light across
+      the rippling surface. Mechanically he followed the ray as it swept from
+      end to end of the moat, and presently, without heeding, he turned his
+      attention to the stones at his feet. A gleam of reflected light caught his
+      passing gaze, and he stooped to examine the cause more closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smooth stonework was wet; in fact the water was standing in little
+      pools upon it. Round these there were circles of dampness, showing that
+      evaporation was taking place. The water had not lain there long. A man
+      falling into the moat would have thrown up splashes such as these; in no
+      other way could they be plausibly accounted for. Sidney stood erect. Again
+      he held the lamp over the gleaming water, half fearing to see something.
+      His lips had quite suddenly become dry and parched, and there was an
+      uncomfortable throb in his throat. Suddenly he heard a rustle behind him,
+      and before he could draw back Hilda was at his side. She slipped her hand
+      through his arm, and by the slightest pressure drew him away from the
+      moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know&mdash;Sid&mdash;he could swim perfectly,&rdquo; she said persuasively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no answer, but walked slowly by her side, swinging the lamp
+      backwards and forwards as a schoolboy swings his satchel. Thus he gained
+      time to moisten his lips and render speech possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Together they went round the grounds, but no sign or vestige of Christian
+      did they discover. A pang of remorse came to Hilda as she touched her
+      brother's strong arm. Ever since Christian's arrival she remembered that
+      Sidney had been somewhat neglected, or only remembered when his services
+      were required. Christian had indeed been attentive to him, but Hilda felt
+      that their friendship was not what it used to be. The young journalist in
+      his upward progress had left the slow-thinking country squire behind him.
+      All they had in common belonged to the past; and, for Christian, the past
+      was of small importance compared to the present. She recollected that
+      during the last fortnight everything had been arranged with a view to
+      giving pleasure to herself, Molly, and Christian, without heed to Sidney's
+      inclinations. By word or sign he had never shown his knowledge of this; he
+      had never implied that his existence or opinion was of any great
+      consequence. She remembered even that such pleasures as Christian had
+      shared with Sidney&mdash;pleasures after his own heart, sailing, shooting,
+      and fishing&mdash;had been undertaken at Christian's instigation or
+      suggestion, and eagerly welcomed by Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, at the first suspicion of trouble, she turned instinctively to
+      her brother for the help and counsel which were so willingly and modestly
+      accorded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;did he ever speak to you of his work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied slowly; &ldquo;no, I think not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has been rather worried over those disturbances in Paris, I think, and&mdash;and&mdash;I
+      suppose he has never said anything to you about Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno!&rdquo; said Sidney, repeating the name in some surprise. &ldquo;No, he
+      has never mentioned his name to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He does not like him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you never told me&mdash;Sid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied simply: &ldquo;there was nothing to be gained by it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was lamentably true, and Hilda felt that it was so, although her
+      brother had no thought of posing as a martyr.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she continued softly, &ldquo;distrusted him for some reason. He
+      knows something of his former life, and told me a short time ago that
+      Bruno was not his name at all. This morning Christian received a letter
+      from Carl Trevetz, whom we knew in Paris, you will remember, saying that
+      Signor Bruno's real name was Max Talma, also warning Christian to avoid
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this all you know?&rdquo; asked Sidney, in a peculiarly quiet tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all I know,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But it has struck me that&mdash;that
+      this may have something to do with Signor Bruno. I mean&mdash;is it not
+      probable that Christian may have discovered something which caused him to
+      go away suddenly without letting Bruno know of his departure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney thought of the water at the edge of the moat. The incident might
+      prove easy enough of explanation, but at the moment it was singularly
+      unreconcilable with Hilda's comforting explanation. And again, the
+      recollection of the signal-whistle heard by Molly was unwelcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied vaguely. &ldquo;Yes, it may.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was, by nature and habit, a slow thinker, and Hilda was running away
+      from him a little; but he was, perhaps, surer than she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am convinced, Sidney,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;that Christian connects Signor
+      Bruno in some manner with the disturbances in France. It seems very
+      strange that an old man buried alive in a small village should have it in
+      his power to do so much harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man's power of doing harm is practically unlimited,&rdquo; he said slowly,
+      still wishing to gain time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but he has always appeared so childlike and innocent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is exactly what I disliked about him,&rdquo; said Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do you think he has been deliberately deceiving us all along?&rdquo; she
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not necessarily,&rdquo; was the tolerant reply. &ldquo;You must remember that
+      Christian is essentially a politician. He does not suspect Bruno of
+      anything criminal; his suspicions are merely political; and it may be that
+      Bruno's doings, whatever they appear to be now, may in the future be
+      looked upon as the actions of a hero. Politics are impersonal, and Signor
+      Bruno is only known to us socially.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda could not see the matter in this light. No woman could have been
+      expected to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; she said presently, &ldquo;that Signor Bruno is a political
+      intriguer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect so,&rdquo; replied her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were walking slowly up the broad path towards the house, having given
+      up the idea of searching for Christian or calling him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; continued Sidney, &ldquo;you think it is likely that he has gone off to
+      see Bruno, or to watch him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of,&rdquo; he said gravely
+      and doubtfully, for he was still thinking of the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the house, and to Mrs. Carew and Molly their explanation was
+      imparted. It was received somewhat doubtfully, especially by Molly.
+      However, the farce had to be kept up&mdash;and do we not act in similar
+      comedies every day?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT WATCH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Cheerfulness is, thank goodness, infectious. The watchers at the Hall that
+      night made a great show of light-heartedness. Sidney had risen to the
+      occasion. He laughed at the idea of anything serious having happened to
+      Christian, and his confidence gradually spread and gained new strength.
+      Molly, however, was apparently beyond its influence. With her perpetual
+      needle-work in her hands she sat beneath the lamp and worked rapidly.
+      Occasionally she glanced towards Hilda, but contributed nothing to the
+      explanations forthcoming from all quarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was also working; slowly, however, and with marvellous care. She was
+      engaged upon a more artistic production than ever came from Molly's
+      work-basket. Once she consulted Mrs. Carew about the colour of a skein of
+      wool, but otherwise showed no inclination to avoid topics in any manner
+      connected with Christian, despite the fact that these were obviously
+      distasteful to her family. In all that she said, indifference was blended
+      in a singular way with imperturbable cheerfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus they waited until after midnight, pretending bravely to work and read
+      as if there were no such feeling as suspense in the human heart. Then Mrs.
+      Carew persuaded the young people to go to bed. She had letters to write,
+      and would not be ready for hours. If Christian did not appear by the time
+      that she was sleepy, she would wake Sidney. After all, she acted her part
+      better than they. She was old at it&mdash;they were new. She was
+      experienced in stage-craft and made her points skilfully; above all, she
+      did not over-act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The three young people kissed their mother and left the room, assuring
+      each other of their conviction that they would find Christian at the
+      breakfast table next morning. Molly's room was at the head of the stairs.
+      With a smile and a nod she closed her door while Hilda and Sidney walked
+      slowly down the long passage together. Arrived at the end, Sidney kissed
+      his sister. She turned the handle of her door and stood with her back to
+      him for a few moments without entering the room, as if to give him an
+      opportunity of speaking if he had aught to say. He stood awkwardly behind
+      her, gazing mechanically at her hair, which reflected the light from the
+      candle that he was holding all awry, while the wax dripped upon the
+      carpet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be all right, Hilda,&rdquo; he said unevenly, &ldquo;never fear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, I know it will,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she passed into the room without closing the door, and he walked
+      on with loudly-creaking shoes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda crossed her room and set the candle upon the dressing-table. She
+      waited there till Sidney's footsteps had ceased, and then she turned and
+      walked uprightly to the door, which she closed. She looked round the room
+      with a strange, vacant look in her eyes, and then she made her way
+      unsteadily towards the bed, where she lay staring at the wavering candle
+      and its reflection in the mirror behind until daylight came to make its
+      flame grow pale and yellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were four watchers in the house that night. Downstairs, Mrs. Carew
+      sat by the shaded lamp in her upright armchair. She was not writing, but
+      had re-opened the large black Bible. Molly was courting sleep in vain,
+      having resolutely blown out her candle. Sidney made no pretence. He was
+      fully dressed, and seated at his rarely-used writing-table. Before him lay
+      a telegraph-form bearing nothing but the address&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      C.C. BODERY, <i>Beacon</i> Office, Fleet St., London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was gazing mechanically at the blank spaces waiting to be filled in,
+      and through his mind was passing and repassing the same question that
+      occupied the thoughts of his mother and sisters. What could be the
+      explanation of the whistle heard by Molly? The want of this alone sufficed
+      to overthrow the most ingenious of consolatory explanations. All four
+      looked at it from different points of view, and to each the signal-whistle
+      calling Christian into the garden was an insurmountable barrier to every
+      explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before it was wholly light Hilda moved wearily to the window. She threw it
+      open, and sat with arms resting on the sill and her chin upon her hands,
+      mechanically noting the wonders of the sunrise. A soft white mist was
+      rising from the thick pasture, wholly obscuring the sea and filling the
+      atmosphere with a damp chill. Seated there in her thin evening dress, she
+      showed no sign of feeling the cold. At times physical pain is almost a
+      pleasure. The glistening damp rested on every blade of grass, on every
+      leaf and twig, while the many webs stood whitely against the shadows, some
+      hanging like festoons from tree to tree, others floating out in mid-air
+      without apparent reason or support. In and among the branches lingered
+      little secret deposits of mist waiting the sun's warmth to melt them all
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The suppressed creak of Sidney's door attracted Hilda's attention, but she
+      did not move, merely turning to look at her own door as her brother passed
+      it with awkward caution. A dull instinct told her that he was going to the
+      moat again. Presently he passed beneath her window and across the dewy
+      lawn, leaving a trailing mark upon the grass. The whole picture seemed
+      suddenly to be familiar to her. She had lived through it all before&mdash;not
+      in another life, not in years gone by, not in a dream, but during the last
+      few hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The air was very still, and she could hear the clank of the chain as
+      Sidney unmoored the old punt, rarely used except by the gardener to clean
+      the moat when the weeds died down in autumn. The quiet was rendered more
+      remarkable by the suddenness of its advent. All night it had been blowing
+      a wild gale, which dropped at dawn, and from the soft land the mist rose
+      instantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Prompted by a vague desire to be doing something, Hilda presently turned
+      from the window, and, after a moment's indecision, chose from the shelf a
+      novel fresh from the brain of the king of writers. With it she returned to
+      her low chair and listlessly turned over the leaves for some moments. She
+      raised her head and sought in vain the tiny form of a lark trilling out
+      his morning hymn far up in the blue sky. Then she resolutely commenced to
+      read uninterruptedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She read on until Sidney's firm step upon the gravel beneath the window
+      roused her. A minute later he knocked softly at her door. The water was
+      glistening on his rough shooting-boots as he entered the room, and upon
+      the brown leather gaiters there was a deeper shade showing where the wet
+      grass had brushed against his legs. His honest, immobile face showed but
+      little surprise at the sight of Hilda still in evening dress, but she saw
+      that he noticed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose from her low chair and laid aside the book, but no sort of
+      greeting passed between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been all round again,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;by daylight, and&mdash;and
+      of course there is no sign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded her head, but did not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been thinking,&rdquo; he continued somewhat shyly, &ldquo;as to what is to be
+      done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I know
+      it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that Christian
+      has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the same excuse
+      will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph this morning to
+      Mr. Bodery, the editor of the <i>Beacon</i>, and await his instructions. I
+      think that is all that we can do in the meantime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon
+      the closed volume of &ldquo;Vanity Fair,&rdquo; but instead of looking at her brother
+      she was gazing calmly out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;I think that is all that we can do in the meantime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you nothing to suggest?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Do you think I am acting
+      rightly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was still looking out of the window&mdash;still standing motionless
+      near the table with her hand upon Thackeray's &ldquo;Vanity Fair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied; &ldquo;everything you suggest seems wise and prudent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to
+      say nothing&mdash;nothing that may betray our anxiety?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I will see them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round
+      once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nearly half-past seven,&rdquo; he said, with more confidence in his tone,
+      &ldquo;and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for her to see
+      you in that dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, with a sudden smile; &ldquo;I will change it at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV. FOILED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the
+      tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the
+      table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves
+      tucked up. The subeditor of the <i>Beacon</i> was in reality a good hard
+      worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire
+      that the world should be aware of his industry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Morgan,&rdquo; said the editor, hanging up his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Morning,&rdquo; replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before Mr.
+      Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand with
+      heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This article of Vellacott's is first-rate,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;By Jove! sir, he
+      drops on these holy fathers&mdash;lets them have it right and left. The
+      way he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting
+      everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing <i>could</i>
+      be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see quickly enough
+      that it means to show how the trick was in reality performed&mdash;ha,
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery absently. He was glancing at the pile of letters
+      that lay upon his desk. There were among them one or two telegrams, and
+      these he put to one side while he took up each envelope in succession to
+      examine the address, throwing it down again unopened. At length he turned
+      again to the telegrams, and picked up the top one. He was about to tear
+      open the envelope when there was a sharp knock at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'M'in!&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan sharply, and at the same moment the silent door
+      was thrown open. The diminutive form of the boy stood in the aperture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentleman to see you, sir,&rdquo; he said, with great solemnity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name?&rdquo; asked Mr. Bodery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't give his name, sir&mdash;said you didn't know it, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even this small office-boy was allowed his quantum of discretionary power.
+      It rested with him whether an unknown visitor was admitted or politely
+      dismissed to a much greater extent than any one suspected. Into his manner
+      of announcing a person he somehow managed to convey his opinion as to
+      whether it was worth the editor's time to admit him or not, and he
+      invariably received Mr. Bodery's &ldquo;Tell him I'm engaged&rdquo; with a little nod
+      of mutual understanding which was intensely comprehensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this occasion, his manner said, &ldquo;Have him in, have him in my boy, and
+      you will find it worth your while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show him in,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nameless gentleman must have been at the door upon the boy's heels,
+      for no sooner had the words left Mr. Bodery's lips than a tall, dark form
+      slid into the room. So noiseless and rapid were this gentleman's movements
+      that there is no other word with which to express his mode of progression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a low bow, and shot up erect again with startling rapidity. He
+      then stood quietly waiting until the door had closed behind the small boy,
+      who, after having punctiliously expectorated upon a silver coin which had
+      found its way into the palm of his hand, proceeded to slide down the
+      balustrade upon his waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It often occurred that strangers addressed themselves to Mr. Morgan when
+      ushered into the little back room, under the impression that he was the
+      editor of the <i>Beacon</i>. Not so, however, this tall, clean-shaven
+      person. He fixed his peculiar light-blue eyes upon Mr. Bodery, and, with a
+      slight inclination, said suavely&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This, sir, is, I believe, your printing day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, sir, and a busy day with us,&rdquo; replied the editor, with no great
+      warmth of manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would it be possible now,&rdquo; inquired the stranger conversationally, &ldquo;at
+      this late hour, to remove a printed article and substitute another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words Mr. Morgan ceased making some pencil notes with which he
+      was occupied, and looked up. He met the stranger's benign glance and,
+      while still looking at him, deliberately turned over all the proof-sheets
+      before him, leaving no printed matter exposed to the gaze of the curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had in the meantime consulted his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, with dangerous politeness. &ldquo;There would still be time
+      to do so if necessary&mdash;at the sacrifice of some hundredweight of
+      paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How marvellously organised your interesting paper must be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dead silence. Most men would have felt embarrassed, but no sign of such
+      feeling was forthcoming from any of the three. It is possible that the
+      dark gentleman with the sky-blue eyes wished to establish a sense of
+      embarrassment with a view to the furtherance of his own ends. If so, his
+      attempt proved lamentably abortive. Mr. Bodery sat with his plump hands
+      resting on the table, and looked contemplatively up into the stranger's
+      face. Mr. Morgan was scribbling pencil notes on a tablet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The truth is,&rdquo; explained the stranger at length, &ldquo;that a friend of mine,
+      who is unfortunately ill in bed this morning&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (Mr. Bodery did not look in the least sympathetic, though he listened
+      attentively.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... has received a telegram from a gentleman who I am told is on the
+      staff of your journal&mdash;Mr. Vellacott. This gentleman wishes to
+      withdraw, for correction, an article he has sent to you. He states that he
+      will re-write the article, with certain alterations, in time for next
+      week's issue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery's face was pleasantly illegible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I see the telegram?&rdquo; he asked politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger produced and handed to the editor a pink paper covered with
+      faint black writing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will see at the foot this&mdash;Mr. Vellacott's reason for not wiring
+      to you direct. He wished my friend to be here before the printers got to
+      work this morning; but owing to this unfortunate illness&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you are too late, sir,&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Bodery briskly. &ldquo;The
+      press is at work&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend instructed me,&rdquo; interposed the stranger in his turn, &ldquo;to make
+      you rather a difficult proposition. If a thousand pounds will compensate
+      for the loss incurred by the delay of issue, and defray the expense of
+      paper spoilt&mdash;I&mdash;I have that amount with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery did not display the least sign of surprise, merely shaking his
+      head with a quiet smile. Mr. Morgan, however, laid aside his pencil, and
+      placed his elbow upon the proof-sheets before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger then stepped forward with a sudden change of manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery,&rdquo; he said, in a low, concentrated voice, &ldquo;I will give you five
+      hundred pounds for a proof copy of Mr. Vellacott's article.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A dead silence of some moments' duration followed this remark. Mr. Morgan
+      raised his head and looked across the table at his chief. The editor made
+      an almost imperceptible motion with his eyebrows in the direction of the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mr. Morgan rose somewhat heavily from his chair, with a hand upon
+      either arm, after the manner of a man who is beginning to put on weight
+      rapidly. He went to the door, opened it, and, turning towards the
+      stranger, said urbanely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir&mdash;the door!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This kind invitation was not at once accepted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You refuse my offers?&rdquo; said the stranger curtly, without deigning to
+      notice the sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had turned his attention to his letters, of which he was
+      cutting open the envelopes, one by one, with a paper-knife, without,
+      however, removing the contents. He looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow morning,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you will be able to procure a copy from any
+      stationer for the trifling sum of sixpence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the stranger walked slowly past Mr. Morgan out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A curse on these Englishmen!&rdquo; he muttered, as he passed down the narrow
+      staircase. &ldquo;If I could only see the article I could tell whether it is
+      worth resorting to stronger measures or not. However, that is Talma's
+      business to decide, not mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan closed the door of the small room and resumed his seat. He then
+      laughed aloud, but Mr. Bodery did not respond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's one of them,&rdquo; observed Mr. Morgan comprehensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the editor, &ldquo;a dangerous customer. I do not like a
+      blue-chinned man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not much impressed with his diplomatic skill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but you must remember that he had difficult cards to play. No doubt
+      his information was of the scantiest, and&mdash;we are not chickens,
+      Morgan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan, with a little sigh. He turned to the revision of
+      the proof-sheets again, while the editor began opening and reading his
+      telegrams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a little strong,&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Morgan, after a few moments of
+      silence, broken only by the crackle of paper. &ldquo;Just listen here:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It simply comes to this&mdash;the General of the Society of Jesus is an
+      autocrat in the worst sense of the word. He holds within his fingers the
+      wires of a vast machine moving with little friction and no noise. No
+      farthest corner of the world is entirely beyond its influence; no
+      political crisis passes that is not hurried on or restrained by its power.
+      Unrecognised, unseen even, and often undreamt of, the vast Society does
+      its work. It is not for us who live in a broad-minded, tolerant age to
+      judge too harshly. It is not for us to say that the Jesuits are
+      unscrupulous and treacherous. Let us be just and give them their due. They
+      are undoubtedly earnest in their work, sincere in their belief, true to
+      their faith. But it is for us to uphold our own integrity. We are accused&mdash;as
+      a nation&mdash;of stirring up the seeds of rebellion, of crime and
+      bloodshed in the heart of another country. Our denial is considered
+      insufficient; our evidence is ignored. There remains yet to us one mode of
+      self-defence. After denying the crime (for crime it is in humane and
+      political sense) we can turn and boldly lay it upon those whom its results
+      would chiefly benefit: the Roman Catholic Church in general&mdash;the
+      Society of Jesus in particular. We have endeavoured to show how the
+      followers of Ignatius Loyola could have brought about the present crisis
+      in France; the extent to which they would benefit by a religious reaction
+      is patent to the most casual observer; let the Government of England do
+      the rest.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was, however, not listening. He was staring vacantly at a
+      telegram which lay spread out upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the meaning of this?&rdquo; he exclaimed huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then Mr.
+      Bodery read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively
+      rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it from?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew, the man he is staying with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They remained thus for some moments; the editor looking at the telegram
+      with a peculiar blank expression in his eyes; Mr. Morgan staring at him
+      while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with outspread finger and thumb. In
+      the lane beneath the window some industrious housekeeper was sweeping her
+      doorstep with aggravating monotony; otherwise there was no sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Mr. Morgan rose from his seat and walked slowly to the window.
+      He stood gazing out upon the smoke-begrimed roofs and crooked chimneys.
+      Between his lips he held his pen, and his hands were thrust deeply into
+      his trouser pockets. It was on that spot and in that attitude that he
+      usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon &ldquo;Home
+      Affairs.&rdquo; He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which
+      stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and the
+      supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his
+      orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bradshaw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yess'r,&rdquo; replied the boy, closing the door. His inventive mind had
+      conceived a new and improved method of going downstairs. This was to lie
+      flat on his back upon the balustrade with a leg dangling on either side.
+      If the balance was correct, he slid down rapidly and shot out some feet
+      from the bottom, as he had, from an advantageous point of view on
+      Blackfriars Bridge, seen sacks of meal shoot from a Thames warehouse into
+      the barge beneath. If, however, he made a miscalculation, he inevitably
+      rolled off sideways and landed in a heap on the floor. Either result
+      appeared to afford him infinite enjoyment and exhilaration. On this
+      occasion he performed the feat with marked success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guv'nor's goin' on the loose&mdash;wants the railway guide,&rdquo; he confided
+      to a small friend in the printing interest whom he met as he was returning
+      with the required volume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose you'll be sitten' upstairs now, then,&rdquo; remarked the
+      black-fingered one with fine sarcasm. Whereupon there followed a feint&mdash;a
+      desperate lunge to one side, a vigorous bob of the head, and a resounding
+      bang with the railway guide in the centre of the sarcastic youth's
+      waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having executed a strategic movement, and a masterly retreat up the
+      stairs, the small boy leant over the banisters and delivered himself of
+      the following explanation:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I 'it yer one that time. Don't do it agin. <i>Good</i> morning, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned the flimsy leaves impatiently, stopped, looked rapidly
+      down a column, and, without raising his eyes from the railway guide, tore
+      a telegraph form from the handle of a drawer at his side. Then he wrote in
+      a large clear style:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will be with you at five o'clock. Invent some excuse for V.'s absence. On
+      no account give alarm to authorities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sharp boy took the telegram from the editor's hand with an expression
+      of profound respect upon his wicked features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go down to Banks,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, &ldquo;ask him to let me have two copies of
+      the foreign policy article in ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the silent door was closed, Mr. Morgan wheeled round upon his heels,
+      and gazed meditatively at his superior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going down to see these people?&rdquo; he asked, with a jerk of his head
+      towards the West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am going by the eleven-fifteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been thinking,&rdquo; continued the sub-editor, &ldquo;we may as well keep the
+      printing-office door locked to-day. That slippery gentleman with the
+      watery eyes meant business, or I am very much mistaken. I'll just send
+      upstairs for Bander to go on duty at the shop door to-day as well as
+      to-morrow; I think we shall have a big sale this week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery rose from his seat and began brushing his faultless hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;do that. It would be very easy to get at the
+      machinery. Printers are only human!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Machinery is ready enough to go wrong when nobody wishes it,&rdquo; murmured
+      Mr. Morgan vaguely, as he sat down at the table and began setting the
+      scattered papers in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery and his colleagues were in the habit of keeping at the office a
+      small bag, containing the luggage necessary for a few nights in case of
+      their being suddenly called away. This expedient was due to Christian
+      Vellacott's forethought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The editor now proceeded to stuff into his bag sundry morning newspapers
+      and a large cigar case. Telegraph forms, pen, ink, and foolscap paper were
+      already there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, Bodery,&rdquo; said the sub-editor with grave familiarity, &ldquo;it seems to
+      me that you are taking much too serious a view of this matter. Vellacott
+      is as wide awake as any man, and it always struck me that he was very well
+      able to take care of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a wholesome dread of men who use religion as a means of
+      justification. A fanatic is always dangerous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sincere fanatic,&rdquo; suggested the sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly so; and a sincere fanatic in the hands of an agitator is the very
+      devil. That is whence these fellows got their power. Half of them are
+      fanatics and the other half hypocrites.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had now completed his preparations, and he held out his plump
+      hand, which the subeditor grasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; said the latter, &ldquo;that you will find Vellacott at the station to
+      meet you&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If,&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan, following the editor to the door&mdash;&ldquo;if he turns
+      up here, I will wire to Carew and to you, care of the station-master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV. BOOKS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The London express rolled with stately deliberation into Brayport station.
+      Mr. Bodery folded up his newspapers, reached down his bag from the
+      netting, and prepared to alight. The editor of the <i>Beacon</i> had
+      enjoyed a very pleasant journey, despite broiling sun and searching dust.
+      He knew the possibilities of a first-class smoking-carriage&mdash;how to
+      regulate the leeward window and chock off the other with a wooden match
+      borrowed from the guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped from the carriage with the laboured sprightliness of a man past
+      the forties, and a moment later Sidney Carew was at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same. You are no doubt Mr. Carew?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Thanks for coming. Hope it didn't inconvenience you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; replied the editor, breaking his return ticket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;D&mdash;&mdash;n!&rdquo; said Sidney suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beginning to rise to the occasion. He was one of those men who are
+      usually too slack to burthen their souls with a refreshing expletive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Bodery gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is a man,&rdquo; explained Sidney hurriedly, &ldquo;getting out of the train
+      who is coming to stay with us. I had forgotten his existence. <i>Don't</i>
+      look round!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was a Londoner. He did not look round. Nine out of ten
+      country-bred people would have indulged in a stare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this all your luggage?&rdquo; continued Sidney abruptly. He certainly was
+      rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then come along. We'll bolt for it. He'll have to get a fly, and that
+      means ten minutes' start if the porter is not officious and mulls things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They hurried out of the station and clambered into the dog-cart. Sidney
+      gathered up the reins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang it,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;What bad luck! There is a fly waiting. It is
+      never there when you want it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked between the shafts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not be afraid of that fly,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;come up, you brute!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned carelessly to put his bag in the back of the cart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him have it,&rdquo; he exclaimed in a low voice. &ldquo;Your friend sees you, but
+      he does not know that you have seen him. He is pointing you out to the
+      station-master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard, nearly
+      throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the whip-socket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we are safe. I think I can manage that fly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;tell me all about Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a full and minute description of events previous to Christian
+      Vellacott's disappearance, omitting nothing. The relation was somewhat
+      disjointed, somewhat vague in parts, and occasionally incoherent. The
+      narrator repeated himself&mdash;hesitated&mdash;blurted out some totally
+      irrelevant fact, and finished up with a vague supposition (possessing a
+      solid basis of truth) expressed in doubtful English. It suited Mr. Bodery
+      admirably. In telling all about Vellacott, Sidney unconsciously told all
+      about Mrs. Carew, Molly, Hilda, and himself. When he reached the point in
+      his narration telling how Vellacott had been attracted into the garden, he
+      became extremely vague and his style notably colloquial. Tell the story
+      how he would, he felt that he could not prevent Mr. Bodery from drawing
+      his own inferences. Young ladies are not in the habit of whistling for
+      youthful members of the opposite sex. Few of them master the labial art,
+      which perhaps accounts for much. Sidney Carew was conscious that his style
+      lacked grace and finish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery did draw his own inferences, but the countenance into which
+      Sidney glanced at intervals was one of intense stolidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I confess I cannot make it out&mdash;at present,&rdquo; he said;
+      &ldquo;Vellacott has written to us only on business matters. We publish
+      to-morrow a very good article of his purporting to be the dream of an
+      overworked <i>attaché</i>. It is very cutting and very incriminating. The
+      Government cannot well avoid taking some notice of it. My only hope is
+      that he is in Paris. There is something brewing over there. Our Paris
+      agent wired for Vellacott this morning. By the way, Mr. Carew, is there a
+      monastery somewhere in this part of the country?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down that valley,&rdquo; replied Sidney, pointing with his whip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Vellacott's article there is mention of a monastery&mdash;not too
+      minutely described, however. There are also some remarkable suppositions
+      respecting an old foreigner living in seclusion. Could that be the man you
+      mentioned just now&mdash;Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly. Bruno is a harmless old soul,&rdquo; replied Sidney, pulling up to turn
+      into the narrow gateway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no time to make further inquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney led the way into the drawing-room. The ladies were there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mother, Mr. Bodery&mdash;my sister; my sister Hilda,&rdquo; he blurted out
+      awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew shook hands, and the two young ladies bowed. They were all
+      disappointed in Mr. Bodery. He was too calm and comfortable&mdash;also
+      there was a suggestion of cigar smoke in his presence, which jarred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; said the Londoner, with genial self-possession, &ldquo;to owe the
+      pleasure of this visit to such an unfortunate incident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molly felt that she hated him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have heard nothing of Christian?&rdquo; said Mrs. Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery, removing his tight gloves. &ldquo;But it is too
+      soon to think of getting anxious yet. Vellacott is eminently capable of
+      taking care of himself&mdash;he is, above all things, a journalist. Things
+      are disturbed in Paris, and it is possible that he has run across there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew smiled somewhat incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a singular time to start,&rdquo; observed Hilda quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned and looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Master mind in <i>this</i> house,&rdquo; he reflected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The others
+      watched him in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you take sugar and cream?&rdquo; inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the
+      second time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please&mdash;both. In moderation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; interrupted Sidney at this moment, &ldquo;the Vicomte d'Audierne is
+      following us in a fly. He will be here in five minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew nodded. She had not forgotten this guest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Vicomte d'Audierne,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, with considerable interest,
+      turning away from the tea-table, cup in hand. &ldquo;Is that the man who got out
+      of my train?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Sidney; &ldquo;do you know him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of him.&rdquo; Mr. Bodery turned and took a slice of bread and
+      butter from a plate which Hilda held.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said the editor of the <i>Beacon</i>, raising his voice so
+      as to command universal attention, &ldquo;do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do not
+      tell him of my connection with the <i>Beacon</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
+      Bodery when the door was thrown open, and a servant announced M.
+      d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who entered immediately afterwards&mdash;with an almost indecent haste&mdash;was
+      of middle height, with a certain intrepid carriage of the head which
+      appeals to such as take pleasure in the strength and endurance of men. His
+      face, which was clean shaven, was the face of a hawk, with the contracted
+      myope vision characteristic of that bird. It is probable that from the
+      threshold he took in every occupant of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Carew,&rdquo; he said in a pleasant voice, speaking almost faultless
+      English, &ldquo;after all these years. What a pleasure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook hands, turning at the same time to the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Sid,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and Molly&mdash;wicked little Molly. Never mind&mdash;your
+      antecedents are safe. I am silent as the grave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not strictly true. He was as deep, and deeper than the
+      resting-place mentioned, but his method was superior to silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Hilda,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;thoughtful little Hilda, who was always too
+      busy to be naughty. Not like Molly, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens! How old it makes one feel!&rdquo; he exclaimed, turning to Mrs. Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not changed, at all events,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Allow me to introduce Mr.
+      Bodery&mdash;the Vicomte d'Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men bowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much pleasure,&rdquo; said the Frenchman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery bowed again in an insular manner, which just escaped
+      awkwardness, and said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Molly offered the new-comer some tea, and the party broke up into
+      groups. But the Vicomte's personality in some subtle manner pervaded the
+      room. Mr. Bodery lapsed into monosyllables and felt ponderous. Monsieur
+      d'Audierne had it in his power to make most men feel ponderous when the
+      spirit moved him in that direction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as tea was finally disposed of Mrs. Carew proposed an adjournment
+      to the garden. She was desirous of getting Mr. Bodery to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It fell to Hilda's lot to undertake the Frenchman. They had been great
+      friends once, and she was quite ready to renew the pleasant relationship.
+      She led her guest to the prettiest part of the garden&mdash;the old
+      overgrown footpath around the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as they had passed under the nut-trees into the open space at the
+      edge of the water, the Vicomte d'Audierne stopped short and looked round
+      him curiously. At the same time he gave a strange little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Hein&mdash;hein&mdash;c'est drôle</i>,&rdquo; he muttered, and the girl
+      remembered that in the old friendship between the brilliant, middle-aged
+      diplomatist and the little child they had always spoken French. She liked
+      to hear him speak his own language, for in his lips it received full
+      justice: it was the finest tongue spoken on this earth. But she did not
+      feel disposed just then to humour him. She looked at him wonderingly as
+      his deep eyes wandered over the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they stood there, something&mdash;probably a kestrel&mdash;disturbed
+      the rooks dwelling in the summits of the still elms across the moat, and
+      they rose simultaneously in the air with long-drawn cries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Ah&mdash;h!&rdquo; said the Vicomte, with a singular smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Hilda forgot her shyness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she inquired in the language she had always spoken to this
+      man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and walked beside her, suiting his steps to hers, for some
+      moments before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not here at all,&rdquo; he said at length, apologetically; &ldquo;I was far
+      away from you. It was impolite. I am sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He intended that she should laugh, and she did so softly. &ldquo;Where were
+      you?&rdquo; she inquired, glancing at him beneath her golden lashes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;an old <i>château</i> in Morbihan&mdash;many
+      miles from a railway&mdash;in the heart of a peaceful country. It has a
+      moat like this&mdash;there are elms&mdash;there are rooks that swing up
+      into the air like that and call&mdash;and one does not know why they do
+      it, and what they are calling. Listen, little girl&mdash;they are calling
+      something. What is it? I think I was <i>there</i>. It was impolite&mdash;I
+      am sorry, Miss Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed again sympathetically and without mirth; for she was meant to
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked back over his shoulder at times as if the calling of the rooks
+      jarred upon his nerves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think I like them&mdash;&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not apparently disposed to be loquacious as he had been at first.
+      Possibly the rooks had brought about this change. Hilda also had her
+      thoughts. At times she glanced at the water with a certain shrinking in
+      her heart. She had not yet forgotten the moments she had passed at the
+      edge of the moat the night before. They walked right round the moat and
+      down a little pathway through the elm wood without speaking. The rooks had
+      returned to their nests and only called to each other querulously at
+      intervals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has it ever occurred to you, little girl,&rdquo; said the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      suddenly, &ldquo;to doubt the wisdom of the Creator's arrangements for our
+      comfort, or otherwise, here below?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose not,&rdquo; he went on, without waiting for an answer, which she
+      remembered as an old trick of his. &ldquo;You are a woman&mdash;it is different
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl said nothing. She may have thought differently; one cannot always
+      read a maiden's thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked on together. Suddenly the Vicomte d'Audierne spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda followed the direction of his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;is Signor Bruno. An old Italian exile. A friend of
+      ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruno came forward, hat in hand, bowing and smiling in his charming way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda introduced the two men, speaking in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, with outspread hands, &ldquo;that you spoke
+      French like a Frenchwoman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had it,&rdquo; she said, with a sudden inspiration, &ldquo;been Italian, I should
+      have told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;learnt most of it from me. We are old friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;but is that so?&rdquo; he murmured conversationally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me,&rdquo; replied the Vicomte
+      carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not imagine, little girl,&rdquo; replied d'Audierne, &ldquo;that you could learn
+      very much that is good from me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the
+      nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor
+      Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew and
+      Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his
+      handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a slight
+      delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the two foreigners came up with Hilda, who had walked on, Signor
+      Bruno found time to say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must see you to-night, without fail; I am in a very difficult position.
+      I have had to resort to strong measures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo; inquired the Vicomte d'Audierne, with that pleasant nonchalance
+      which is so aggravating to the People.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the village, any time after nine; a yellow cottage near the well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And they joined Hilda Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI. FOES
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It is only when our feelings are imaginary that we analyse them. When the
+      real thing comes&mdash;the thing that only does come to a few of us&mdash;we
+      can only feel it, and there is no thought of analysis. Moreover, the
+      action is purely involuntary. We feel strange things&mdash;such things as
+      murder&mdash;and we cannot help feeling it. We may cringe and shrink; we
+      may toss in our beds when we wake up with such thoughts living, moving,
+      having their being in our brains&mdash;but we cannot toss them off. The
+      very attempt to do so is a realisation, and from consciousness we spring
+      to knowledge. We know that in our hearts we are thieves, murderers,
+      slanderers; we know that if we read of such thoughts in a novel we should
+      hold the thinker in all horror; but we are distinctly conscious all the
+      time that these thoughts are our own. This is just the difference existing
+      between artificial feelings and real: the one bears analysis, the other
+      cannot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the
+      arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of the
+      little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with singular
+      care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual, but all the
+      while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda Carew. At certain
+      moments she wondered with a throb of apprehension whether the difference
+      which was so glaringly patent to herself could possibly be hidden from
+      others. She caught strange inflections in her own voice which she knew had
+      never been there before&mdash;her own laughter was a new thing to her. And
+      yet she went on through dinner and until bedtime, acting this strange part
+      without break, without fault&mdash;a part which had never been rehearsed
+      and never learnt: a part which was utterly artificial and yet totally
+      without art, for it came naturally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And through it all she feared the Vicomte d'Audierne. Mr. Bodery counted
+      for nothing. He made a very good dinner, was genial and even witty in a
+      manner befitting his years and station. Mrs. Carew was fully engaged with
+      her guests, and Molly was on lively terms with the Vicomte; while Sidney,
+      old Sidney&mdash;no one counted him. It was only the Vicomte who paused at
+      intervals during his frugal meal, and looked across the table towards the
+      young girl with those deep, impenetrable eyes&mdash;shadowless, gleamless,
+      like velvet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When bedtime at length arrived, she was quite glad to get away from that
+      kind, unobtrusive scrutiny of which she alone was aware. She went to her
+      room, and sitting wearily on the bed she realised for the first time in
+      her life the incapacity to think. It is a realisation which usually comes
+      but once or twice in a lifetime, and we are therefore unable to get
+      accustomed to it. She was conscious of intense pressure within her brain,
+      of a hopeless weight upon her heart, but she could define neither. She
+      rose at length, and mechanically went to bed like one in a trance. In the
+      same way she fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Mr. Bodery, Sidney Carew, and the Vicomte d'Audierne were
+      smoking in the little room at the side of the porch. A single lamp with a
+      red shade hung from the ceiling in the centre of this room, hardly giving
+      enough light to read by. There were half-a-dozen deep armchairs, a divan,
+      and two or three small tables&mdash;beyond that nothing. Sidney's father
+      had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation of Oriental ways.
+      It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but merely a smoking-room.
+      Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and through the thin smoke he
+      glanced persistently at the Vicomte d'Audierne. The Vicomte did not return
+      this attention; he glanced at the clock instead. He was thinking of Signor
+      Bruno, but he was too polite and too diplomatic to give way to
+      restlessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Mr. Bodery opened fire from, as it were, a masked battery; for he
+      knew that the Frenchman was ignorant of his connection with one of the
+      leading political papers of the day. It was a duel between sheer skill and
+      confident foreknowledge. When Mr. Bodery spoke, Sidney Carew leant back in
+      his chair and puffed vigorously at his briar pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Things,&rdquo; said the Englishman, &ldquo;seem to be very unsettled in France just
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte was engaged in rolling a cigarette, and he finished the
+      delicate operation before looking up with a grave smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;In Paris. But Paris is not France. That fact is hardly
+      realised in England, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What,&rdquo; inquired Mr. Bodery, with that conversational heaviness of touch
+      which is essentially British, &ldquo;is the meaning of this disturbance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney Carew was enveloped in a perfect cloud of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment&mdash;and a moment only&mdash;the Vicomte's profound gaze
+      rested on the Englishman's face. Mr. Bodery was evidently absorbed in the
+      enjoyment of his cigar. The smile that lay on his genial face like a mask
+      was the smile of a consciousness that he was making himself intensely
+      pleasant, and adapting his conversation to his company in a quite
+      phenomenal way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; replied the Frenchman, with a neat little shrug of bewilderment.
+      &ldquo;Who can tell? Probably there is no meaning in it. There is so often no
+      meaning in the action of a Parisian mob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Many things without meaning are not without result.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Vicomte looked at Mr. Bodery, and again he was baffled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You only asked me the meaning,&rdquo; he said lightly. &ldquo;I am glad you did not
+      inquire after the result; because there I should indeed have been at
+      fault. I always argue to myself that it is useless to trouble one's brain
+      about results. I leave such matters to the good God. He will probably do
+      just as well without my assistance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a philosopher,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, with a pleasant and friendly
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank Heaven&mdash;yes! Look at my position. Fancy carrying in France
+      to-day a name that is to be found in the most abridged history. One needs
+      to be a philosopher, Mr. Bodery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; suggested the Englishman, &ldquo;there may be changes. It may all come
+      right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte sipped his whisky and water with vicious emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it began at once,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it would never be right in my time. Not
+      as it used to be. And in the meantime we are in the present&mdash;in the
+      present France is governed by newspaper men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney drew in his feet and coughed. Some of his smoke had gone astray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked sympathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said calmly, &ldquo;that really seems to be the case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And newspaper men,&rdquo; pursued the Vicomte, &ldquo;what are they? Men of no
+      education, no position, no sense of honour. The great aim of politicians
+      in France to-day is the aggrandisement of themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery yawned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, with a glance towards Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps the Frenchman saw the glance, perhaps he was deceived by the yawn.
+      At all events, he rose and expressed a desire to retire to his room. He
+      was tired, he said, having been travelling all the previous night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had not yet finished his cigar, so he rose and shook hands
+      without displaying any intention of following the Vicomte's example.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney lighted a candle, one of many standing on a side table, and led the
+      way upstairs. They walked through the long, dimly lighted corridors in
+      silence, and it was only when they had arrived in the room set apart for
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne that this gentleman spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;who is this person&mdash;this Mr. Bodery? He was
+      not a friend of your father's.&rdquo; Sidney was lighting the tall candles that
+      stood upon the dressing-table, and the combined illumination showed with
+      remarkable distinctness the reflection of his face in the mirror. From
+      whence he stood the Frenchman could see this reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is the friend of a great friend of mine; that is how we know him,&rdquo;
+       replied Sidney, prizing up the wick of a candle. He was still rising to
+      the occasion&mdash;this dull young Briton. Then he turned. &ldquo;Christian
+      Vellacott,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you knew his father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes: I knew his father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any
+      intention of being deterred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father,&rdquo; continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively, &ldquo;was
+      brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door was closed the Vicomte looked at his watch. It was almost
+      midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Reverend Father Talma will have to wait till to-morrow morning,&rdquo; he
+      said to himself. &ldquo;I cannot go to him to-night. It would be too theatrical.
+      That old gentleman is getting too old for his work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, Sidney returned to the little smoking-room at the side of
+      the porch. There he found Mr. Bodery smoking with his usual composure. The
+      younger man forbore asking any questions. He poured out for himself some
+      whisky, and opened a bottle of soda-water with deliberate care and
+      noiselessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery at length, &ldquo;knows nothing about Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am convinced of it. By the way, who is the old gentleman who came to
+      tea this afternoon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so&mdash;that super-innocent old man with the white hair who
+      wears window-glass spectacles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they window-glass?&rdquo; asked Sidney, with a little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They struck me as window-glass&mdash;quite flat. Who is he&mdash;beyond
+      his name, I mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an Italian refugee&mdash;lives in the village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had taken his silver pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+      rolling it backwards and forwards on the table. This was indicative of the
+      fact that the editor of the <i>Beacon</i> was thinking deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And how long has he been here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a few weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked up sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is <i>that</i> all?&rdquo; he inquired, with an eager little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, my dear sir, Vellacott is right. That old man is at the bottom of
+      it. This Vicomte d'Audierne, what do you know of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Personally?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an old friend of my father's. In fact, he is a friend of the
+      family. He calls the girls by their Christian names, as you have heard
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I noticed that. And he came here to-day merely on a friendly visit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all. Why do you ask?&rdquo; inquired Sidney, who was getting rather
+      puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing of him personally&mdash;except what I have learnt to-day.
+      For my own part, I like him,&rdquo; answered Mr. Bodery. &ldquo;He is keen and clever.
+      Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman. But, politically speaking, he is one
+      of the most dangerous men in France. He is a Jesuit, an active Royalist,
+      and a staunch worker for the Church party. I don't know much about French
+      politics&mdash;that is Vellacott's department. But I know that if he were
+      here, and knew of the Vicomte's presence in England, he would be very much
+      on the alert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; asked Sidney, &ldquo;do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here
+      with the absence of Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly.
+      Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a scoundrel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney thought deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may be,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not,&rdquo; pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, &ldquo;think
+      that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He asked who you were&mdash;if you were a friend of my father's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you said&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned Vellacott's
+      name. He knew his father very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you&rdquo;&mdash;asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and
+      rising from his deep chair&mdash;&ldquo;were you looking at the Vicomte when you
+      answered the question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there was no sign of discomfort&mdash;no flicker of the eyelids, for
+      instance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery nodded his head in a businesslike way, indicative of the fact
+      that he was engaged in assimilating a good deal of useful information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to be done to-night,&rdquo; he said presently, as he made a
+      movement towards the door, &ldquo;but to go to bed. To-morrow the <i>Beacon</i>
+      will be published, and the result will probably be rather startling. We
+      shall hear something before to-morrow afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly, &ldquo;if
+      any one should inquire&mdash;your mother or one of your sisters&mdash;you
+      can say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII. A RETREAT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left his
+      room. As he walked along the still corridor and down the stairs it was
+      noticeable that he made absolutely no sound, without, however, indulging
+      in any of those contortions which are peculiar to late arrivals in church.
+      It would seem that Nature had for purposes of her own made his footfall
+      noiseless&mdash;if, by the way, Nature can be credited with any purpose
+      whatever in her allotment of human gifts and failings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the hall he found a stout cook armed for assault upon the front-door
+      step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Can you tell me the breakfast-hour? I forgot to
+      inquire last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nine o'clock, sir,&rdquo; replied the servant, rather taken aback at the
+      thought of having this visitor dependent upon her for entertainment during
+      the next hour and a half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;and it is not yet eight. Never mind. I will go into the garden.
+      I am fond of fruit before breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took his hat and lounged away towards the kitchen-garden which lay near
+      the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way,
+      &ldquo;where is this pestilential village?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where
+      Signor Bruno was lodging.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the door
+      before the Vicomte reached it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and led the way into a little room on the right hand of the
+      narrow passage. A little room intensely typical: china dogs, knitted
+      antimacassars of a brilliant tendency, and horse-hair covered furniture.
+      There was even the usual stuffy odour as if the windows, half-hidden
+      behind muslin curtains and scarlet geraniums, were never opened from one
+      year's end to another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno closed the door before speaking. Then he turned upon his
+      companion with something very like fury glittering in his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you not come last night?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I am left alone to contend
+      against one difficulty on the top of another. Read that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew from his pocket a thin and somewhat crumpled sheet of paper, upon
+      which there were two columns of printed matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;cost us two thousand francs.&rdquo; The Vicomte d'Audierne
+      read the printed matter carefully from beginning to end. He had approached
+      the window because the light was bad, and when he finished he looked up
+      for a few minutes, out of the little casement, upon the quiet village
+      scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The <i>Beacon</i>,&rdquo; he said, turning round, &ldquo;what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A leading weekly newspaper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Published&mdash;?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day,&rdquo; snapped Signor Bruno.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne made a little grimace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who wrote this?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian Vellacott, son of <i>the</i> Vellacott, whom you knew in the
+      old days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something in the Vicomte's expressive voice that made Signor
+      Bruno look at him sharply with some apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you say that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte countered with another question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this Mr. Bodery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a little jerk with his head in the direction of the house he had
+      just left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was told last night that he was a friend of this Christian Vellacott&mdash;a
+      protector.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two Frenchmen looked at each other in silence. Signor Bruno was
+      evidently alarmed&mdash;his lips were white and unsteady. There was a
+      smile upon the bird-like face of the younger man, and behind his
+      spectacles his eyes glittered with an excitement in which there was
+      obviously no fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; he asked in a disagreeably soft manner, &ldquo;where Christian
+      Vellacott is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Across the benevolent old face of Signor Bruno here came a very evil
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will do better not to ask me that question,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;unless you
+      mean to run for it&mdash;as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne looked at his companion in a curious way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;at one time no rival as a man of action&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a man of action still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte folded the proof-sheet carefully, handed it back to his
+      companion, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I understand that&mdash;there will be no more of these very clever
+      articles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruno nodded his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask no questions,&rdquo; continued the other. &ldquo;It is better so. I shall stay
+      where I am for a few days, unless it grows too hot&mdash;unless I think it
+      expedient to vanish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have courage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have impertinence&mdash;that is all. There will be a storm&mdash;a
+      newspaper storm. The embassies will be busy; in the English Parliament
+      some pompous fool will ask a question, and be snubbed for his pains. In
+      the <i>Chambre</i> the newspaper men will rant and challenge each other in
+      the corridors; and it will blow over. In the meantime we have got what we
+      want, and we can hide it till we have need of it. Your Reverence and I
+      have met difficulties together before this one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Signor Bruno was not inclined to fall in with these optimistic views.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so sure,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that we have got what we want. There has
+      been no acknowledgment of receipt of the last parcel&mdash;in the usual
+      way&mdash;the English <i>Standard</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the last parcel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifty thousand cartridges.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they were sent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; they were despatched in the usual way; but, as I say, they have not
+      been acknowledged. There may have been some difficulty on the other side.
+      Our police are not so easy-going as these coastguard gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the aristocrat, with that semi-bantering lightness of manner
+      which sometimes aggravated, and always puzzled, his colleagues, &ldquo;we will
+      not give ourselves trouble over that: the matter is out of our hands. Let
+      us rather think of ourselves. Have you money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I have sufficient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is now eight o'clock&mdash;this newspaper&mdash;this precious <i>Beacon</i>
+      is now casting its light into some dark intellects in London. It will take
+      those intellects two hours to assimilate the information, and one more
+      hour to proceed to action. You have, therefore, three hours in which to
+      make yourself scarce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have arranged that,&rdquo; replied the old man calmly. &ldquo;There is a small
+      French potato-ship lying at Exmouth. In two hours I shall be one of her
+      crew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is well. And the others?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The others left yesterday afternoon. They cross by this morning's boat
+      from Southampton to Cherbourg. You see how much I have had to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see also, my friend, how well you have done it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, ignoring the compliment, &ldquo;I must go. We will
+      walk away by the back garden across the fields. You must remember that you
+      may have been seen coming here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought of that. One old man saw me, but he did not look at me
+      twice. He will not know me again. And your landlady&mdash;where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sent her out on a fool's errand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they spoke they left the little cottage by the back door, as Signor
+      Bruno had proposed, through the little garden, and across some low-lying
+      fields. Presently they parted, Signor Bruno turning to the left, while the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne kept to the right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall meet, I suppose,&rdquo; were the last words of the younger man, &ldquo;in
+      the Rue St. Gingolphe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;in the Rue St. Gingolphe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For so old a man the pace at which Signor Bruno breasted the hill that lay
+      before him was somewhat remarkable. The Vicomte d'Audierne, on the other
+      hand, was evidently blessed with a greater leisure. He looked at his watch
+      and strolled on through the dew-laden meadows, wrapt in thought as in a
+      cloak that hid the sweet freshness of the flowery hedgerows, that muffled
+      the broken song of the busy birds, that killed the scent of ripening hay.
+      Thus these two singular men parted&mdash;and it happened that they were
+      never to meet again. These little things <i>do</i> happen. We meet with
+      gravity; we part with a smile; perhaps we make an appointment; possibly we
+      speak of the pleasure that the meeting seems to promise: and the next
+      meeting is put off; it belongs to the great postponement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Often we part with an indifferent nod, as these two men parted amidst the
+      sylvan peace of English meadow on that summer morning. They belonged to
+      two different stations in life almost as far apart as two social stations
+      could be, even in a republic. They were not, in any sense of the word,
+      friends; they were merely partners, intensely awake, as partners usually
+      are, to each other's shortcomings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne probably thought no more of Signor Bruno from the
+      moment that he raised his hat and turned. A few moments later his thoughts
+      were evidently far away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The son of Vellacott,&rdquo; he muttered, as he took a cigarette from a neat
+      silver case. &ldquo;How strange! And yet I am sorry. He might have done
+      something in the world. That article was clever&mdash;very clever&mdash;curse
+      it! He cannot yet be thirty. But one would expect something from the son
+      of a man like Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not yet nine o'clock when the Vicomte entered the dining-room by
+      the open window. Only Hilda was there, and she was busy with the old
+      leather post-bag. Among the letters there were several newspapers, and the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne's expression underwent a slight change on perceiving
+      them. His thin, mobile lips were closely pressed, and his chin&mdash;a
+      very short one&mdash;was thrust forward. Behind the gentle spectacles his
+      eyes assumed for a moment that singular blinking look which cannot be
+      described in English, for it seemed to change their colour. In his country
+      it would have been called <i>glauque</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Hilda!&rdquo; he said, approaching slowly, &ldquo;do I see newspapers? I love a
+      newspaper!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the <i>Times</i> enveloped in a yellow wrapper, upon which
+      was printed her brother's name and address.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; he said lightly, &ldquo;the <i>Times</i>&mdash;estimable, but just a
+      trifle opaque. Is that all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes were fixed upon two packets she held in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are Mr. Bodery's,&rdquo; she replied, looking at him with some
+      concentration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what newspaper does Mr. Bodery read?&rdquo; asked the Frenchman, holding
+      out his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated for a moment. His position with regard to her was singular,
+      his ascendency over her had never been tried. It was an unknown quantity;
+      but the Vicomte d'Audierne knew his own power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me look, little girl,&rdquo; he said quietly in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the newspapers, still watching his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The <i>Beacon</i>,&rdquo; he muttered, reading aloud from the ornamented
+      wrapper, &ldquo;a weekly journal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw the papers down and returned to the <i>Times</i>, which he
+      unfolded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Hilda,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is Mr. Bodery connected with this weekly
+      journal, the <i>Beacon?</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her back was turned towards him. She was hanging up the key of the
+      post-bag on a nail beside the fireplace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, without looking round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he the editor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne turned the <i>Times</i> carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;the phylloxera has appeared again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time he appeared to be absorbed in this piece of news, then he
+      spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew something of a man who writes for that newspaper&mdash;the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      I knew his father very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte glanced at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian Vellacott,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We know him also,&rdquo; she answered, moving towards the bell. He made a step
+      forward as if about to offer to ring the bell for her, but she was too
+      quick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the butler entered the room, Hilda reminded him of some small
+      omission in setting out the breakfast-table. The item required was in the
+      room, and the man set it upon the table with some decision and a slightly
+      aggrieved cast of countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne raised his eyes, and then he looked very grave. He
+      was a singular man in many ways, but those who worked with him were aware
+      of one peculiarity which by its prominence cast others into the shade. He
+      possessed a very useful gift rarely given to men&mdash;the gift of
+      intuition. It was dangerous to <i>think</i> when the eyes of the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne were upon one's face. He had a knack of knowing one's thoughts
+      before they were even formulated. He looked grave&mdash;almost distressed&mdash;on
+      this occasion, because he knew something of which Hilda herself was
+      ignorant. He knew that she was engaged to be married to one man while she
+      loved another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of breakfast a card was handed to Sidney Carew. He glanced
+      at it, nodded his head as a signal to the servant that he need not wait,
+      and slipped the card into his pocket. Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne were watching him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he rose from the table and left the room. Mrs. Carew became
+      suddenly lively, and the meal went on unconcernedly. It was not long
+      before Sidney came back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want,&rdquo; he said to his mother, &ldquo;some tickets for a concert at
+      Brayport on the 4th of next month?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a concert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney consulted the tickets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In aid,&rdquo; he read, &ldquo;of an orphanage&mdash;the Police Orphanage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We always take six tickets,&rdquo; put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to
+      seek her pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery,&rdquo; said Sidney, at this moment, &ldquo;you have nothing to eat. Let
+      me cut you some ham.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I prefer to carve it myself,&rdquo; he replied, proceeding to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was
+      talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The London police are here already,&rdquo; whispered Sidney; &ldquo;shall I say
+      anything about Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right,&rdquo; replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney left the room again, and the Vicomte d'Audierne detected the quick,
+      anxious glance directed by Hilda at his retreating form. A few minutes
+      later young Carew rode away from the house in company with two men, while
+      a fourth horseman followed closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who rode on Sidney's left hand was a tall, grizzled man, with the
+      bearing of a soldier, while his second companion was fair and gentle in
+      manner. The soldier was Captain Pharland, District Inspector of Police;
+      the civilian was the keenest detective in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said this man, who sat his hired horse with perfect
+      confidence. &ldquo;Of course we are too late, I know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke softly and somewhat slowly; his manner was essentially that of a
+      man accustomed to the entire attention of his hearers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old Italian,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;who went under the name of Signor Bruno,
+      disappeared this morning. It is just possible that he will succeed in
+      getting out of the country. It all depends upon who he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who do you suppose he is?&rdquo; asked Captain Pharland. He was an upright old
+      British soldier, and felt ill at ease in the society of his celebrated <i>confrère</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the frank reply; &ldquo;you see this is not a criminal
+      affair, it is entirely political; it is hardly in my line of country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They rode on in silence for a space of time, during which Captain Pharland
+      lighted a cigar and offered one to his companions. Sidney accepted, but
+      the gentleman from London refused quietly, and without explanation. It was
+      he who spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carew,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;can you tell me when this monastery was first
+      instituted at Porton Abbey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Last autumn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The thin flaxen eyebrows went up very high, until they were lost to sight
+      beneath the hat brim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did they&mdash;ah&mdash;deal with the local tradesmen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Sidney, &ldquo;I think not. They received all their stores by
+      train from London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have never seen any of the monks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The fair-haired gentleman gave a little upward jerk of the head and smiled
+      quietly for his own satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not speak again until the cavalcade reached Porton Abbey. The old
+      place looked very peaceful in the morning light, standing grimly in the
+      midst of that soft lush grass which only grows over old habitations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One side of the long, low building was in good repair, while the other
+      half had been allowed to crumble away. The narrow Norman windows had been
+      framed with unpainted wood and cheap glass. The broad doorway had been
+      partly filled in with unseasoned deal, and an inexpensive door had been
+      fitted up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bell-knob was of brass, new and glaring in the morning sun. The
+      gentleman from London, having alighted, took gently hold of this and rang.
+      A faint tinkle rewarded him. It was the peculiar sound of a bell ringing
+      in an empty house. After a moment's pause he wrenched the bell nearly out
+      of its socket, and a long peal was the result. At last this ceased, and
+      there was no sound in the house. The fair man looked back over his
+      shoulder at Captain Pharland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone!&rdquo; he said tersely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he took from his breast pocket a little bar in the shape of a lever.
+      He introduced the bent end of this between the door and the post, just
+      above the keyhole, and gave a sharp jerk. There was a short crack like
+      that made by the snapping of cast iron, and the door flew open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without a moment's hesitation the man went in, followed closely by Sidney
+      and Captain Pharland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The birds had flown. As mysteriously as they had come, the devotees had
+      vanished. Bare walls met the eyes of the searchers. Porton Abbey stood
+      empty again after its brief return to life and warmth, and indeed it
+      scarcely looked habitable. The few personal effects of the simple monks
+      had been removed; the walls and stone floors were rigidly clean; the small
+      chapel showed signs of recent repair. There was an altar-cloth, a
+      crucifix, and two brass candlesticks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman from London noted these items with a cynical smile. He had
+      instinctively removed his hat; it is just possible that there was another
+      side to this man's life&mdash;a side wherein he dealt with men who were
+      not openly villains. He may have been a churchwarden at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clever beggars!&rdquo; he ejaculated, &ldquo;they were ready for every emergency.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Pharland pointed to the altar with his heavy riding-whip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you think this all humbug?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. They were no more monks than we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The search did not last much longer. Only a few rooms had been inhabited,
+      and there was absolutely nothing left&mdash;no shred of evidence, no clue
+      whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the fair-haired man, when they had finished their inspection,
+      &ldquo;these were exceptional men; they knew their business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they left the house he paused, and closed the door again, remaining
+      inside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is not even a bolt on the door. They knew
+      better than to depend on bolts and bars. They knew a trick worth two of
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the gate they met a small, inoffensive man, with a brown beard and a
+      walking-stick. There was nothing else to say about him; without the beard
+      and the walking-stick there would have been nothing left to know him by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my assistant,&rdquo; announced the London detective quietly. &ldquo;He has
+      been down to the cliff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men stepped aside together, and consulted in an undertone for some
+      time. Then the last speaker returned to Captain Pharland and Sidney, who
+      were standing together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That newspaper,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the <i>Beacon</i>, is word for word right. My
+      assistant has been to the spot. The arms and ammunition have undoubtedly
+      been shipped from this place. The cases of cartridges mentioned by the man
+      who wrote the article as having been seen, in a dream, half-way down the
+      cliff, are actually there; my assistant has seen them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Pharland scratched his honest cavalry head. He was beginning to
+      regret that he had accepted the post of district inspector of the police.
+      Sidney Carew puffed at his pipe in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said the detective, &ldquo;the newspaper man got all this
+      information through the treachery of one of the party. I should like to
+      get hold of that traitor. He would be a useful man to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In this the astute gentleman from London betrayed his extremely limited
+      knowledge of the Society of Jesus. There are no traitors in that vast
+      corporation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney and Captain Pharland rode home together, leaving the two detectives
+      to find their way to Brayport Station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They rode in silence, for the Captain was puzzled, and his companion was
+      intensely anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney Carew was beginning to realise that the events of the last three
+      days had a graver import than they at first promised to conceal. The now
+      celebrated article in the <i>Beacon</i> opened his eyes, and he knew that
+      the writer of it must have paid very dearly for his daring. It seemed
+      extremely probable that the head and hands which had conceived and carried
+      out this singular feat were both still for ever. Vellacott's own written
+      tribute to the vast powers of the Jesuits, and their immovable habit of
+      forcing a way through all obstacles to the end in view, was scarcely
+      reassuring to his friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney knew and recognised the usual fertility of resource possessed by
+      his friend; but against him were pitted men of greater gifts, of less
+      scruple, and of infinitely superior training in the crooked ways of
+      humanity. That he should have been so long without vouchsafing word or
+      sign was almost proof positive that his absence was involuntary; and men
+      capable of placing fire-arms into the hands of a maddened mob were not
+      likely to hesitate in sacrificing a single life that chanced to stand in
+      their path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the young fellow rode along, immersed in meditation, he heard the sound
+      of carriage-wheels, and, looking up, recognised his own grey horse and
+      dog-cart. Mr. Bodery was driving, and driving hard. On seeing Sidney he
+      pulled up, somewhat recklessly, in a manner which suggested that he had
+      not always been a stout, middle-aged Londoner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Been telegraphed for,&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;by the people at the office.
+      Government is taking it up. Just time to catch the train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the editor of the <i>Beacon</i> disappeared in a cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne was thus left in full possession of the field.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX. FOUL PLAY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Christian Vellacott passed out of the drawing-room window in answer
+      to what he naturally supposed to be a signal-whistle from Hilda or Sidney,
+      he turned down the narrow, winding pathway that led to the moat. The
+      extreme darkness, contrasting suddenly with the warm light of the room he
+      had just left, caused him to walk slowly with outstretched hands. Floating
+      cobwebs broke across his face, and frequently he stopped to brush the
+      clinging fibre away. The intense darkness was somewhat relieved when he
+      reached the edge of the moat, and the clear sky was overhead instead of
+      interlocked branches. He could just discern that Hilda was not at her
+      usual seat upon the rustic bench farther towards the end of the moat, and
+      he stopped short, with a sudden misgiving, at the spot where the path met,
+      at right angles, the broader stone walk extending the full length of the
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was on the point of whistling softly the familiar refrain, when there
+      was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A rush, a sudden shock, and a pair
+      of muscular hands were closed round his throat, dragging him backwards.
+      But Christian stood like a rock. Quick as thought he seized the two
+      wrists, which were small and flat, and wrenched them apart. Then, stepping
+      back with one foot in order to obtain surer leverage, he lifted his
+      assailant from the ground, swung him round, and literally let him fly into
+      the moat&mdash;with a devout hope that it might be Signor Bruno. The man
+      hurtled through the darkness, without a cry or sound, and fell face
+      foremost into the water, five yards from the edge, throwing into the air a
+      shower of spray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than
+      their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of
+      endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly developed.
+      The exertion of lifting his assailant and swinging him away into the
+      darkness was great, although the man's weight was nothing very formidable,
+      and Christian staggered back a few paces without, however, actually losing
+      his balance. At this moment two men sprang upon him from behind and
+      dragged him to the ground. He felt at once that this was a very different
+      matter. Either of these two could have overpowered him singly. Their thick
+      arms encompassed him like the coils of a snake, and there was about their
+      heavy woollen clothing a faint odour of salt water. He knew that they were
+      sailors. Recognising that it was of no avail, he still fought on, as
+      Englishmen do. One of the men had wound a large woollen scarf round his
+      mouth, the other was slowly but very surely succeeding in pinioning his
+      arms. Then a third assailant came, and Christian knew by the wet hand (for
+      he used one arm only) that it was the smallest of the three, who had
+      suffered for his temerity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick, quick!&rdquo; this man whispered in French. With his uninjured hand he
+      twisted the scarf tighter and tighter until Christian gasped for breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the Englishman struggled and writhed upon the ground, while the hard
+      breathing of the two sailors testified that it was no mean resistance.
+      Suddenly the one-armed man loosened the scarf, but before Christian could
+      recover his breath a handkerchief was pressed over his lips, and a sweet,
+      pungent odour filled his nostrils.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three to one,&rdquo; he gasped, and quite suddenly his head fell forward, while
+      his clutch relaxed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a brave man,&rdquo; said the dripping leader of the attack, as he stood
+      upright and touched his damaged shoulder gently and tentatively. &ldquo;Now
+      quick to the carriage with him. You have not managed this well, my
+      friends, not at all well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker raised his cold hand to his forehead, which was wet, less
+      perhaps from past exertion than from the agony he was enduring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, monsieur,&rdquo; grumbled one of the sailors in humble self-defence, &ldquo;he
+      is made of steel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pale light of a grey dawn was stealing slowly up into the riven sky,
+      lighting up the clouds which were flying eastward on the shoulder of a
+      boisterous wind. The heavy grey sea, heaving, surging, and hissing, threw
+      itself upwards into broken spray, which flew to leeward at a sharp angle,
+      blown from the summit of the wave like froth from an over-filled tankard.
+      After a night of squally restlessness, accompanied by a driving rain that
+      tasted brackish, things had settled down with the dawn into a steady,
+      roaring gale of wind. In the growing light sea-gulls rose triumphantly
+      with smooth breasts bravely facing the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this a dripping vessel laboured sorely. The green water
+      rushed from side to side over her slippery, filthy deck as she rolled, and
+      carried with it a tangled mass of ropes, a wooden bucket, a capstan bar,
+      and&mdash;ominous sign&mdash;a soaking, limp fur cap. The huge boom,
+      reaching nearly the whole length of the little vessel, swung wildly from
+      side to side as the yawl dipped her bulwarks to the receding wave. It was
+      certain death for a man to attempt to stand upright upon the sopping deck,
+      for the huge spar swung shoulder high. The steersman, crouching low by his
+      strong tiller, was doing his best to avoid a clean sweep, but only a small
+      jib and the mizzen were standing with straining clews and gleaming seams.
+      Crouching beneath the weather bulwarks, with their feet wedged against the
+      low combing of the hatch, three men were vainly endeavouring to secure the
+      boom, and to disentangle the clogged ropes. Two were huge fellows with
+      tawny, washed-out beards innocent of brush or comb, their faces were half
+      hidden by rough sou'-westers, and they were enveloped from head to foot in
+      oilskins from which the water ran in little rills. The third was Christian
+      Vellacott, who looked very wet indeed. The water was dripping from his
+      cuffs and running down his face. His black dress-clothes were clinging to
+      him with a soppy hindrance, while the feet firmly planted against the
+      combing of the hatch were encased in immaculate patent-leather shoes, and
+      the salt water ran off silk socks. It would have been very funny if it
+      were not that Fortune invariably mingles her strokes of humour most
+      heedlessly with sadder things. Christian Vellacott was apparently
+      unconscious of the humour of the situation. He was working patiently and
+      steadily, as men must needs work when fighting Nature, and his
+      half-forgotten sea-craft was already coming back. Beneath his steady hands
+      something akin to order was slowly being achieved; he was coiling and
+      disentangling the treacherous rope, of which the breaking had cast the
+      boom adrift, laying low a good seaman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Farther forward upon the hatch lay the limp body of a very big man. His
+      matted head was bare, and the dead, brown face, turned upward to its
+      Maker, jerked from side to side as the vessel heaved. The stalwart legs
+      were encased in greasy sea-boots, deeply wrinkled, and the coils of a huge
+      scarf of faded purple lay upon his broad breast, where they had been
+      dragged down by a hasty hand in order to see more clearly the still
+      features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the dead man's side knelt upon the deck a small, spare figure clad in
+      black and wearing his left arm in a sling. With his right hand he held a
+      crucifix to the blue lips that would never breathe a prayer to the Virgin
+      again. The small mouth and refined features of the praying man were
+      strangely out of keeping with his tempestuous surroundings. Unmindful,
+      however, of wind and waves alike, he knelt and prayed audibly. Each lurch
+      of the vessel threw him forward, so that, in order to save himself from
+      falling, he was obliged to press heavily upon the dead man's throat and
+      breast; but this he heeded not. His girlish blue eyes were half closed in
+      an ecstasy of religious fervour, and the pale, narrow face wore a light
+      that was not reflected from sea or sky. This was the man who had
+      unhesitatingly attacked Vellacott, had dared to pit his small strength,
+      more of nerve than of muscle, against the young Englishman's hardened
+      sinews. Violence in itself was most abhorrent to him; it had no part in
+      his nature; and consequently, by the strange tenets of Ignatius Loyola's
+      disciples, he was condemned to a course of it. Any objectionable duty,
+      such as this removal of Vellacott, was immediately assigned to him in the
+      futile endeavour of subjecting the soul to the brain. A true Jesuit must
+      have no nature of his own and no individuality. He is simply a machine,
+      with likes and dislikes, conscience and soul subject to the will of his
+      superior, whose mind is also under the same arbitrary control; and so on
+      to the top. If at the head there were God, it would be well; but man is
+      there, and consequently the whole society is a gigantic mistake. To be a
+      sincere member of it, a man must be a half-witted fool, a religious
+      fanatic, or a rogue for whom no duplicity is too scurrilous, even though
+      it amount to blasphemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer, the man kneeling on the slimy deck, was as nearly a
+      religious fanatic as his soft, sweet nature would allow. With greater
+      bodily strength and attendant greater passions, he would have been a
+      simple monomaniac. In him the passion for self-devotion was singularly
+      strong, and contact with men had cooled it down into an unusually deep
+      sense of duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of
+      self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more akin
+      to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where the
+      devil drags most people, and René Drucquer was not by any means the first
+      man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly misled by a
+      blind devotion to duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When throwing himself upon Christian Vellacott, no thought of possible
+      danger to his own person had restrained or caused him a moment's
+      hesitation. His blind faith in the righteousness of his cause was,
+      however, on the wane. This disciple of St. Ignatius might have lived a
+      true and manly life three hundred years earlier when his master trod the
+      earth, but the march of intellect had trodden down the &ldquo;Constitutions&rdquo;
+       years before René Drucquer came to study them. An ignoramus and a zealot
+      who lived nearly four centuries ago can be no guide or help to men of the
+      present day, and this young priest was overshadowed by the saddest doubt
+      that comes to men on earth&mdash;the doubt of his own Creed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Christian Vellacott was assisting the sailors he glanced
+      occasionally towards the kneeling priest, and on the narrow, intelligent
+      face he read a truth that never was forgotten. He saw that René Drucquer
+      was unconscious of his surroundings&mdash;unmindful of the fact that he
+      was on board a disabled vessel at the mercy of the wild wind. His whole
+      being was absorbed in prayer: this priest remembered only that the soul of
+      the great, rough, disfigured man was winging its serene way to the land
+      where no clouds are. Christian was not an impressionable man&mdash;journalism
+      had killed all that&mdash;nor, it is to be feared, did he devote much
+      thought to religion; but he recognised goodness when he met it. The young
+      journalist's interest was aroused, and in that trifling incident lay the
+      salvation of the priest. From that small beginning came the gleam of light
+      that was to illuminate gloriously the darkness of a mistaken life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chance had capriciously ruled that the hand that had dislocated the Abbé's
+      arm should set it again, and the dead sailor lying on the sticky, tarred
+      hatch-cover had helped. The &ldquo;patron&rdquo; of the boat, for he it was whose head
+      had been smashed by the spar, had held the priest's trembling, swollen
+      shoulder while Christian's steady hands gave the painful jerk required to
+      slip the joint back into its socket. The great, coarse lips which had
+      trembled a little, with a true Frenchman's sympathy for suffering, were
+      now blue and drawn; the stout, tender hands were nerveless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest prayed on, while the men worked near at hand seeking to restore
+      order, and to repair the damages made by sea and wind. They had got over
+      their sullen, native shyness on finding that Christian could speak French
+      like the Abbé and was almost as good a sailor as themselves. One offered
+      him a rough blue jersey, while another placed a gold-embroidered Sunday
+      waistcoat at his disposal, with a visible struggle between kindness of
+      heart and economy. The first was accepted, but the waistcoat was given
+      back with a kind laugh and an assurance that the jersey was sufficient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any
+      ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abbé
+      Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor,
+      and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter, he
+      rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute. The
+      authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had sworn
+      to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his Master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the
+      mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the
+      dead to lie there in this wind and storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am willing,&rdquo; answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the
+      dead man lay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, perhaps&mdash;Monsieur,&rdquo; began the Breton with some hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian encouragingly, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps Monsieur will speak to&mdash;to the Abbé. It is that we do not
+      like to disturb him in prayer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do so,&rdquo; he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and
+      touched René Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the
+      touch had been repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;yes. What do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could
+      not hear them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not better to take him below?&rdquo; he shouted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then for the first time did the priest appear to remember that this was
+      not one of the sailors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; he said, rising from his knees. &ldquo;You are right; it is
+      better. But I am afraid the men will not assist me. They are afraid of
+      touching the dead when they are afloat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will help you,&rdquo; said Christian simply, &ldquo;and that man also, I think,
+      because he proposed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a motion of the head he indicated Hoel Grall, upon whom the command
+      of the little vessel had now devolved. The man was better educated than
+      his companions, and spoke French fluently, but in the Breton character
+      superstition is so deeply rooted that generations of education will
+      scarcely eradicate it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked into the Englishman's face with a gentle wonder in his
+      eyes, which were shadowy with the fervour of his recent devotions. The two
+      men were crouching low upon the deck, grasping the black rail with their
+      left hands; the water washed backwards and forwards around their feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time they had seen each other face to face in open
+      daylight, and their eyes met quietly and searchingly as they swayed from
+      side to side with the heavy lurching of the ship. The Englishman spoke
+      first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must leave it to us,&rdquo; he said calmly. &ldquo;You could do nothing in this
+      heavy sea with your one arm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentle blue eyes were again filled with wonder, and presently the
+      priest's intellectual face relaxed into a shadowy smile, which did not
+      affect his thin red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; he murmured simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian did not hear this remark. He had turned away to call Grall
+      towards him, and was about to move towards the body lying on the hatch,
+      when the priest called him back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; continued René Drucquer quickly, as if in doubt, &ldquo;are you
+      Christian Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked relieved, and at the same time he appeared to be making
+      an effort to restrain himself, as if he had been betrayed into a greater
+      show of feeling than was desirable. When he at length spoke in reply to
+      the Englishman's obvious desire for some explanation of the strange
+      question, his voice was singularly cold, and modulated in such a manner as
+      to deprive it of any expression, while his eyes were fixed on the deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not such as I expected,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked down at him with straightforward keenness, and he saw the
+      priest's eyelids move uneasily beneath his gaze. Mixing with many men as
+      he had done, he had acquired a certain mental sureness of touch, like that
+      of an artist with his brush when he has handled many subjects and many
+      effects. He divined that René Drucquer had been led to expect a violent,
+      head strong man, and he could not restrain a smile as he turned away.
+      Before going, however, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present it is a matter of saving the ship, and our lives. My own
+      affairs can wait, but when this gale is over you may rest assured they
+      shall have my attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX. WINGED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Beyond this one allusion to their respective positions, Christian was
+      silent regarding his captivity. After the gale subsided the weather took a
+      turn for the better, and clear skies by day and night rendered navigation
+      an easy matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With characteristic daring the young Englishman had decided to offer no
+      resistance and to seize no opportunities of escape until the termination
+      of the voyage. The scheme half-formed within his mind was to see the
+      voyage through, and effect his escape soon after landing in France. It was
+      not without a certain adventurous fascination, and in the meantime there
+      was much to interest him in his surroundings. If this young Abbé was a
+      typical member of the Society of Jesus, he was worth studying. If this
+      simplicity was an acquired cloak to deeper thought, it was worth
+      penetrating, and if the man's entire individuality had been submerged in
+      the mysterious system followed in the College of Jesuits, it was no waste
+      of time to seek for the real man beneath the cultivated suavity that hid
+      all feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The more the two young men saw of each other the closer grew their
+      intimacy, and with growing intimacy the domination of the stronger
+      individuality was more marked in its influence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the frail and nervous priest this young Englishman was a new
+      experience; his vitality and calm, straightforward manner of speech were
+      such as the Abbé had never met with before. Such men and better men there
+      were and are in the Society of Jesus, otherwise the power of the great
+      Order would not be what it is; but René Drucquer had never come in contact
+      with them. According to the wonderful code of laws laid down by its great
+      founder (who, in other circumstances, might have prepared the world for
+      the coming of such a man as Napoleon the First), the education of the
+      young is entrusted to such brethren as are of slower parts; and from these
+      honest, but by no means intelligent, men the young Abbé had learnt his
+      views upon mankind in general. The creed they taught without understanding
+      it themselves was that no man must give way to natural impulses; that he
+      must restrain and quell and quench himself into a machine, without
+      individuality or impulse, without likes or dislikes; that he must
+      persistently perform such duties as are abhorrent to him, eat such food as
+      nauseates him, and submit to the dictates of such men as hate him. And
+      these, forsooth, are the teachings of one who, in his zealous
+      shortsightedness, claims to have received his inspiration direct from the
+      lips of the Great Teacher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer found himself in the intimate society of a man who said what
+      he thought, acted as he conceived best, and held himself responsible, for
+      word or deed, to none on earth. It was his first mission after a long and
+      rigorous training. This was the first enemy of the Holy Church against
+      whom he had been sent to fight, armed with the immeasurable power of the
+      greatest brotherhood the world has ever known, protected by the shadow of
+      its blessing; and there was creeping into the young priest's heart a vague
+      and terrible suspicion that there might be two sides to the question. All
+      the careful years of training, all the invisible meshes of the vast net
+      that had been gathering its folds round him since he had first donned the
+      dress of a Probationer of the College of Jesuits, were powerless to
+      restrain the flight of a pure and guileless heart to the height of truth.
+      Despite the countless one-sided and ingenious arguments instilled into his
+      eager young mind in guise of mental armour against the dangers of the
+      world, René Drucquer found himself, at the very first contact with the
+      world, unconvinced that he was fighting upon the righteous side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brest had been left behind in a shimmering blue haze. Ahead lay the grim
+      Pointe de Raz, with its short, thick-set lighthouse facing the vast
+      Atlantic. Out to sea, in the fading glory of sunset, lay the long, low
+      Ile-de-Sein, while here and there black rocks peeped above the water. The
+      man holding the tiller was a sardine fisher, to whom every rock, every
+      ripple, of these troubled waters was familiar. Fearlessly he guided the
+      yawl close round by the high cliff&mdash;the westernmost point of Europe&mdash;but
+      with the sunset the wind had dropped and the sails hung loosely, while the
+      broad bows glided onwards with no sound of parted water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The long Atlantic roll was swinging lazily in, and the yawl rose to it
+      sleepily, with a long, slow movement. The distant roar of the surf upon
+      the Finisterre coast rose in the peaceful atmosphere like a lullaby. The
+      holy calm of sunset, the hush of lowering night, and the presence of the
+      only man who had ever drawn him with the strange, unaccountable bond that
+      we call sympathy, moved the heart of the young priest as it had never been
+      moved before by anything but religious fervour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he spoke of himself. The solitary heart suddenly broke
+      through the restraining influence of a mistaken education, and unfolded
+      its sad story of a misread existence. Through no fault of his own, by no
+      relaxation of supervising care on the part of his teachers, the Jesuit had
+      run headlong into the very danger which his Superior had endeavoured to
+      avoid. He had formed a friendship. Fortunately the friend was a <i>man</i>,
+      otherwise René Drucquer were lost indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think,&rdquo; he said musingly, &ldquo;that no two lives have ever been so
+      widely separated as yours and mine, and yet our paths have met!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott took the cigarette from his lips. It was made of a vile tobacco,
+      called &ldquo;Petit Caporal,&rdquo; but there was nothing better to be had, and he was
+      in the habit of making the best of everything. Therefore he blew into the
+      air a spiral column of thin blue smoke with a certain sense of enjoyment
+      before replying. He also was looking across the glassy expanse of water,
+      but his gaze was steady and thoughtful, while his companion's eyes were
+      dreamy and almost vacant. The light shone full upon his face, and a
+      physician&mdash;or a mother&mdash;would have noticed, perhaps, that there
+      was beneath his eyes a dull shadow, while his lips were dry and somewhat
+      drawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said at length, with grave sympathy, &ldquo;we have drifted together
+      like two logs in a torrent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young priest changed his position, drawing in one leg and clasping his
+      hands round his knee. The movement caused his long black garment to fall
+      aside, displaying the dark purple stockings and rough shoes. The hands
+      clasped round his knee were long and white, with peculiarly flat wrists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One log,&rdquo; he said vaguely, &ldquo;was bound for a certain goal, the other was
+      drifting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott turned slowly and glanced at his companion's face. The smoke
+      from the bad cigarette drifted past their heads to windward. He was not
+      sure whether the priest was speaking from a professional point of view,
+      with reference to heresy and the unknown goal to which all heretics are
+      drifting, or not. Had René Drucquer been a good Jesuit, he would have seen
+      his opportunity of saying a word in season. But this estimable desire
+      found no place in his heart just then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your life,&rdquo; he continued in a monotone, &ldquo;is already mapped out&mdash;like
+      the voyage of a ship traced across a chart. Is it not so? I have imagined
+      it like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott continued to smoke for some moments in silence. He sat with his
+      long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail, and
+      his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in his
+      pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his
+      motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for he
+      spoke at once with a smile on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is best,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;not to think too much about it. From what
+      experience I have had, I have come to the humiliating conclusion that men
+      have very little to do with the formation of their own lives. A
+      ship-captain may sit down and mark his course across the chart with the
+      greatest accuracy, the most profound knowledge of wind and current, and
+      the keenest foresight; but that will have very little effect upon the
+      actual voyage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; argued the priest in a low voice, &ldquo;is it not better to have an end
+      in view&mdash;to have a certain aim, and a method, more or less formed, of
+      attaining it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most men have that,&rdquo; answered Christian, &ldquo;but do not know that they have
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>You</i> have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian smoked meditatively. A month ago he would have said &ldquo;Yes&rdquo;
+       without a moment's hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you know it, I think,&rdquo; added the priest slowly. He was perfectly
+      innocent of any desire to extract details of his companion's life from
+      unwilling lips, and Christian knew it. He was convinced that, whatever
+      part René Drucquer had attempted to play in the past, he was sincere at
+      that moment, and he divined that the young Jesuit was weakly giving way to
+      a sudden desire to speak to some fellow-being of his own life&mdash;to lay
+      aside the strict reserve demanded by the tenets of the Society to which he
+      was irrevocably bound. In his superficial way, Christian Vellacott had
+      studied men as well as letters, and he was not ignorant of the influence
+      exercised over the human mind by such trifling circumstances as moonshine
+      upon placid water, distant music, the solemn hush of eventide, or the
+      subtle odour of a beloved flower. If René Drucquer was on the point of
+      committing a great mistake, he at least would not urge him on towards it,
+      so he smoked in silence, looking practical and unsympathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest laughed a little short, deprecating laugh, in which there was
+      no shadow of mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not,&rdquo; he said, rubbing his slim hands together, palm to palm,
+      slowly, &ldquo;and&mdash;I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will come,&rdquo; suggested the Englishman, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest shook his head with a little smile, which was infinitely sadder
+      than tears. His cold silence was worse than an outburst of grief; it was
+      like the keen frost that comes before snow, harder to bear than the snow
+      itself. Presently he moved slightly towards his companion so that their
+      arms were touching, and in his soft modulated voice, trained to conceal
+      emotion, he told his story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; he said, intertwining his fingers, which were very restless,
+      &ldquo;no man can be the worse for hearing the story of another man's life.
+      Before you judge of me, listen to what my life has been. I have never
+      known a friend or relation. I have never had a boy companion. Since the
+      age of thirteen, when I was placed under the care of the holy fathers, I
+      have never spoken to a woman. I have been taught that life was given us to
+      be spent in prayer; to study, to train ourselves, and to follow in the
+      footsteps of the blessed Saint Ignatius. But how are we who have only
+      lived half a life, to imitate him, whose youth and middle-age were passed
+      in one of the most vicious courts of Europe before he thought of turning
+      to holy things? How are we, who are buried in an atmosphere of mystic
+      religion, to cope with sin of which we know nothing, and when we are
+      profoundly ignorant of its evil results? These things I know now, but I
+      did not suspect them when I was in the college. There all manliness, and
+      all sense of manly honour, were suppressed and insidiously forbidden. We
+      were taught to be spies upon each other, to cringe servilely to our
+      superiors, and to deal treacherously with such as were beneath us.
+      Hypocrisy&mdash;innate, unfathomable hypocrisy&mdash;was instilled into
+      our minds so cunningly that we did not recognise it. Every movement of the
+      head or hands, every glance of the eyes, and every word from the lips was
+      to be the outcome&mdash;not of our own hearts&mdash;but of a law laid down
+      by the General himself. It simply comes to this: we are not men at all,
+      but machines carefully planned and fitted together, so as to render sin
+      almost an impossibility. When tempted to sin we are held back, not by the
+      fear of God, but by the thought that discovery is almost certain, and that
+      the wrath of our Superior is withheld by no scruple of human kindness....
+      But remember, I knew nothing of this before I took my vows. To me it was a
+      glorious career. I became an enthusiast. At last the time came when I was
+      eligible; I offered myself to the Society, and was accepted. Then followed
+      a period of hard work; I learned Spanish and Italian, giving myself body
+      and soul to the work. Even the spies set to watch me day and night, waking
+      and sleeping, feeding and fasting, could but confess that I was sincere.
+      One day the Provincial sent for me&mdash;my mission had come. I was at
+      last to go forth into the world to do the work of my Master. Trembling
+      with eagerness, I went to his room; the Provincial was a young man with a
+      beautiful face, but it was like the face of the dead. There was no colour,
+      no life, no soul, no heart in it. He spoke in a low, measured voice that
+      had neither pity nor love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When that door closed behind me an hour later the scales had fallen from
+      my eyes. I began to suspect that this great edifice, built not of stones
+      but of men's hearts, was nothing less than an unrighteous mockery. With
+      subtle, double-meaning words, the man whom I had been taught to revere as
+      the authorised representative of Our Lord, unfolded to me my duties in the
+      future. The work of God, he called it; and to do this work he placed in my
+      hands the tools of the devil. What I suspected then, I know now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman sat and listened with increasing interest. His
+      cigarette had gone out long before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said presently, in his quiet, reassuring voice, which seemed to
+      infer that no difficulty in life was quite insurmountable&mdash;&ldquo;And, if
+      you did not know it then, how have you learnt it now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From you, my friend,&rdquo; replied the priest earnestly, &ldquo;from you and from
+      these rough sailors. They, at least, are men. But you have taught me
+      this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott made no answer. He knew that what his companion said
+      was true. Unconsciously, and with no desire to do so, he had opened this
+      young zealot's eyes to what a man's life may be. The tale was infinitely
+      sad, but with characteristic promptitude the journalist was already
+      seeking a remedy without stopping to think over the pathos of this
+      mistaken career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently René Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again,
+      and he continued his story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman
+      Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and queens'
+      boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is as firm as
+      ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent. It lies like a huge mill,
+      perfect but idle, waiting for the grist that will never come to be crushed
+      between its ruthless wheels. He told me that the sway over kings and
+      princes has lapsed with the growth of education, but that we hold still
+      within our hands a lever of greater power, though the danger of wielding
+      it is proportionately greater to those who would use it. This power is the
+      People. Before us lies a course infinitely more perilous than the sinuous
+      paths trodden by the first followers of St. Ignatius as they advanced
+      towards power. It lies on the troubled waters; it leads over the restless,
+      mobile heads of the people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the priest ceased speaking. There was a strange thrill of foreboding
+      in his voice, which, however, had never been raised above a monotone. The
+      two men sat side by side, as still as the dead. They gazed vacantly into
+      the golden gates of the west, and each in his own way thought over these
+      things. Assuredly the Angel of Silence hung over that little vessel then,
+      for no sound from earth or sea or sky came to wake those two thinkers from
+      their reverie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the Englishman's full, steady tones broke the hush.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;has not been learnt in two days. You must have known it
+      before. If you knew it, why are you what you are? You never have been a
+      real Jesuit, and you never will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swore to the Mother of God&mdash;I am bound....&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By an oath forced upon you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! By an oath I myself begged to take!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the bitterest drop in the priest's cup. Everything had been done
+      of his own free will&mdash;at his own desire. During eleven years a
+      network of perfidy had been cunningly woven around him, mesh after mesh,
+      day after day. As he grew older, so grew in strength the warp of the net.
+      Thus, in the fulness of time, everything culminated to the one great end
+      in view. Nothing was demanded (for that is an essential rule), everything
+      must be offered freely, to be met by an apparently hesitating acceptance.
+      Constant dropping wears the hardest stone in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Vellacott, &ldquo;you can surely represent to your Provincial that
+      you are not fitted for the work put before you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; interrupted the priest, &ldquo;we can represent nothing. We are
+      supposed to have no natural inclinations. All work should be welcome, none
+      too difficult, no task irksome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can volunteer for certain services,&rdquo; said Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What services?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman looked at him for some seconds in the fading light. In his
+      quick way he had already found a remedy, and he was wondering whether he
+      should propose it or hold his peace. He was not afraid of incurring
+      responsibility. The young Jesuit had appealed to him, and there was a way
+      out of the difficulty. Christian felt that things could not be made worse
+      than they were. In a moment his mind was made up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you know,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the Society has few friends and a multitude of
+      enemies. I am afraid I am an enemy; but there is one redeeming point in
+      the Jesuit record which we are all bound to recognise, and I recognise it
+      unhesitatingly. You have done more to convert the heathen than the rest of
+      the Christian Church put together. Whatever the motive has been, whatever
+      the results have proved to be, the missionary work is unrivalled. Why do
+      you not offer yourself for that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he asked the question Christian glanced at his companion's face. He saw
+      the sad eyes light up suddenly with a glow that was not of this dull earth
+      at all; he saw the thin, pure face suddenly acquire a great and wondrous
+      peace. The young priest rose to his feet, and, crossing the deck, he stood
+      holding with one hand to the tarred rigging, his back turned towards the
+      Englishman, looking over the still waters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he returned, and laying his thin hand upon Christian's shoulder,
+      he said, &ldquo;My friend, you have saved me. In the first shock of my
+      disillusion I never thought of this. I think&mdash;I think there is work
+      for me yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      With the morning tide, the <i>Deux Frères</i> entered Audierne harbour.
+      The rough sailors crossed themselves as they looked towards the old wooden
+      cross upon the headland, facing the great Atlantic. They thought of the
+      dead &ldquo;patron&rdquo; in the little cabin below, and the joyous young wife, whose
+      snowy head-dress they could almost distinguish upon the pier among the
+      waiters there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both Christian Vellacott and the Abbé were on deck. They had been there
+      the whole night. They had lain motionless side by side upon the old sail.
+      Day vanished, night stole on, and day came again without either having
+      closed his eyes or opened his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They now stood near the steersman, and looked upon the land with an
+      interest which only comes after heavy weather at sea. To the Englishman
+      this little fishing-port was unknown, and he did not care to ask. The
+      vessel was now dropping up the river, with anchor swinging, and the women
+      on the pier were walking inland slowly, keeping pace and waving a greeting
+      from time to time in answer to a husband's shout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is she, Monsieur L'Abbé,&rdquo; said Hoel Grall, with a peculiar twitch of
+      his coarse mouth, as if from pain. &ldquo;That is she with the little child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer bowed his head, saying nothing. The <i>Deux Frères</i>
+      slowly edged alongside the old quay in her usual berth above the sardine
+      boats. A board was thrown across from the rail to the quay, and the priest
+      stepped ashore alone. He went towards the smiling young wife without any
+      hesitation; she stood there surrounded by the wives of the sailors on
+      board the <i>Deux Frères</i>, with her snowy coiffe and spotless apron,
+      holding her golden-haired child by the hand. All the women curtsied as the
+      priest approached, for in these western provinces the Church is still
+      respected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My daughter,&rdquo; said the Abbé, &ldquo;I have bad news for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled still, misunderstanding his calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, mon père,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it is the season of the great winds now. What a
+      long voyage it has been! And you say it is a bad one. My husband is no
+      doubt in despair, but another voyage is sure to be better; is it not so? I
+      have not seen Loic upon the deck, but then my sight is not good. I am not
+      from Audierne, mon père, but from inland where we cannot see so far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest changed colour; no smile came into his face in response to
+      hers. He stepped nearer, and placed his hand upon her comely arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a very bad voyage for your poor husband,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The Holy
+      Virgin give you comfort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly the colour vanished from the woman's round checks. Her soft,
+      short-sighted eyes filled with a terrible, hopeless dismay as she stared
+      at the young priest's bowed head. The women round now began to understand,
+      and they crossed themselves with a very human prayer of thankfulness that
+      their husbands and brothers had been spared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loic is dead?&rdquo; she said, in a rasping voice. For some moments she stood
+      motionless, then, in obedience to some strange and unaccountable instinct,
+      she began turning up the sleeves of her rough brown dress, as if she were
+      going to begin some kind of manual work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Holy Virgin comfort you, my daughter; and you, my little one,&rdquo; said
+      the priest, as he stooped to lay his hand upon the golden head of the
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loic is dead! Loic is dead!&rdquo; spread from mouth to mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That comes from having ought to do with the priests,&rdquo; muttered the
+      customs officer, beneath his heavy moustache. He was an old soldier, who
+      read the newspapers, and spoke in a loud voice on Sunday evenings in the
+      Café de l'Ouest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé heard the remark, and looked at the man, but said nothing. He
+      remembered that no Jesuit must defend himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl-widow stepped on board the untidy vessel in a mechanical, dreamy
+      way. She dragged the little trotting child almost roughly after her.
+      Christian Vellacott stood at the low cabin door. He was in the dress of a
+      Probationer of the Society of Jesus, which he had assumed at the request,
+      hesitatingly made, of René Drucquer, and for the very practical reason
+      that he had nothing else to wear except a torn dress-coat and Hoel Grall's
+      Sunday garments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me, mon père,&rdquo; lisped the little one, stopping in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much good will a blessing of mine do you, little one,&rdquo; he muttered in
+      English. Nevertheless, he lifted the child up and kissed her rosy cheek.
+      He kept her by his side, letting the mother go to her dead husband alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the woman came from the cabin half-an-hour later, hard-faced, and
+      with dry, stony eyes, she found the child sitting on Christian's knee,
+      prattling away in broken French. Tears came to her aching eyes at the
+      sight of the happy, fatherless child; the hard Breton heart was touched at
+      last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé's instructions were to keep his prisoner confined under lock and
+      key in the cabin until nightfall, when he was to be removed inland in a
+      carriage under the surveillance of two lay-brethren. Christian, however,
+      never for a moment doubted his ability to escape when he wished to do so,
+      and acting upon this conviction he volunteered a promise not to attempt
+      evasion. Dressed as he was, in the garments of a probationer, there was no
+      necessity of awaiting nightfall, as there was nothing unusual about him to
+      attract attention. Accordingly the departure from the <i>Deux Frères</i>
+      was fixed for midday. In the meantime the young Englishman found himself
+      the object of unremitting attention on the part of two smooth-faced
+      individuals who looked like domestic servants. These two men had come on
+      board at the same moment that the Abbé stepped ashore, and Christian
+      noticed that no word of greeting or recognition passed between them and
+      René Drucquer. This was to him a further proof of the minuteness of
+      organisation which has characterised the Order since Ignatius Loyola wrote
+      down his wonderful &ldquo;Constitutions,&rdquo; in which no trifle was too small to be
+      unworthy of attention, no petty dramatic effect devoid of significance.
+      Each man appeared to have received his instructions separately, and with
+      no regard to those of his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, however, the journalist had not been wasting his time.
+      Although he still looked upon the whole affair as a very good farce, he
+      had not forgotten the fact that his absence must necessarily have been
+      causing endless anxiety in England. During the long night of wakefulness
+      he had turned over in his mind every possible event at St. Mary Western
+      since his sudden disappearance. Again and again he found himself wondering
+      how they would all take it, and his conclusions were remarkably near to
+      the truth. He guessed that Mr. Bodery would, sooner or later, be called in
+      to give his opinion, and he sincerely hoped that the course taken would be
+      the waiting tactics which had actually been proposed by the editor of the
+      <i>Beacon</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this hope he determined to communicate with Sidney Carew, and having
+      possessed himself of a blank Customs Declaration Form, he proceeded to
+      write a letter upon the reverse side of it. In this he told his friend to
+      have no anxiety, and, above all, to institute no manner of search, because
+      he would return to England as soon as his investigations were complete.
+      The letter was written in guarded language, because Christian had arrived
+      at the conclusion that the only means he had of despatching it was through
+      the hands of René Drucquer. The crew of the <i>Deux Frères</i> were not
+      now allowed to speak with him. He possessed no money, and it would have
+      been folly to attempt posting an unstamped letter addressed to England in
+      a little place like Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly, as they were preparing to leave the vessel (the care of poor
+      Loic having been handed over to the village curé), Christian boldly
+      tendered his request.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my friend, I cannot do it,&rdquo; replied the Abbé promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read it yourself,&rdquo; urged Christian. &ldquo;No harm can possibly come of it. My
+      friend will do exactly as I tell him. In fact, it will be to your benefit
+      that it should go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the Jesuit shook his head. Suddenly, however, in the midst of an
+      argument on the part of the Englishman, he gave in and took the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it to me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I will risk it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian watched him place the letter within the breast of his &ldquo;soutane,&rdquo;
+       unread. The two lay-brethren were noting every movement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the priest removed his broad-brimmed hat and passed through the
+      little doorway into the dimly lighted cabin where the dead sailor lay. He
+      left the door ajar. After glancing at the dead man's still face he fell
+      upon his knees by the side of the low bunk, and remained with bowed head
+      for some moments. At last he rose to his feet and took the Englishman's
+      letter from his breast. The envelope was unclosed, and with smooth,
+      deliberate touch he opened the letter and read it by the light of the
+      candle at the dead man's head, of which the rays were to illuminate the
+      wandering soul upon its tortuous way. The priest read each word slowly and
+      carefully, for his knowledge of English was limited. Then he stood for
+      some seconds motionless, with arms hanging straight, staring at the flame
+      of the candle with weary, wondering eyes. At last he raised his hand and
+      held the flimsy paper in the flame of the candle till it was all burnt
+      away. The charred remains fluttered to the ground, and one wavering flake
+      of carbonised paper sank gently upon the dead man's throat, laid bare by
+      the hand of his frenzied wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said that I was not a Jesuit,&rdquo; murmured the priest, as he burnt the
+      envelope, and across his pale face there flitted an unearthly smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when
+      Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the
+      rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and
+      then turned to leave the ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed that
+      the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne were
+      on the box. René Drucquer and himself were invited to enter the roomy
+      vehicle, and by the way in which the door shut he divined that it was
+      locked by a spring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the village post-office the carriage stopped, and, one of the servants
+      having opened the door, the priest descended and passed into the little
+      bureau. He said nothing about the letter addressed to Sidney Carew, but
+      Christian took for granted that it would be posted. Instead of this,
+      however, the priest wrote a telegram announcing the arrival of the <i>Deux
+      Frères</i>, which he addressed to &ldquo;Morel et Fils, Merchants, Quimper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hoel Grall asked me to despatch this,&rdquo; he said quietly, as he handed the
+      paper to the old postmaster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus they
+      travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two strangely
+      contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances of which the
+      links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott did not appear to
+      chafe against his confinement. He took absolutely no notice of the two men
+      whose duty it was to watch his every movement. The spirit of adventure,
+      which is not quite educated out of us Englishmen yet, was very strong in
+      him, and the rapid movement through an unknown land to an unknown goal was
+      not without its healthy fascination. He lay back in the comfortable
+      carriage and sleepily watched the flying landscape. Withal he noticed by
+      the position of the sun the direction in which he was being taken, and
+      despite many turns and twists he kept his bearings fairly well. The
+      carriage had left the high road soon after crossing the bridge above
+      Audierne, and was now going somewhat heavily over inferior thoroughfares.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun had set before Vellacott awoke to find that they were still
+      lumbering on. He had, of course, lost all bearing now, but he soon found
+      that they had been journeying eastward since leaving the coast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A halt was made for refreshment at a small hillside village which appeared
+      to be mainly inhabited by women, for the men were all sailors. The
+      accommodation was of the poorest, but bread was procurable, and eggs, meat
+      being an unknown luxury in the community.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the lowering light they journeyed on again, sometimes on the broad
+      post-road, sometimes through cool and sombre forests. Many times when
+      Christian spoke kindly, or performed some little act of consideration, the
+      poor Abbé was on the point of disclosing his own treason. Before his eyes
+      was the vision of that little cabin. He saw again the dancing flame of the
+      paper in his hand, throwing its moving light upon the marble features of
+      that silent witness as the charred fragments fluttered past the still face
+      to the ground. But as the stone is worn by the dropping water, so at last
+      is man's better nature overcome by persistent undermining when the work is
+      carried out by men chosen as possessing &ldquo;a mind self-possessed and
+      tranquil, delicate in its perceptions, sure in its intuitions, and capable
+      of a wide comprehension of various subjects.&rdquo; What youthful nature could
+      be strong enough to resist the cunning pressure of influences wielded
+      thus? So René Drucquer carried the secret in his heart until circumstances
+      rendered it unimportant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Man is, after all, only fallible, and those to whom is given the privilege
+      of accepting or refusing candidates for admission to the great Society of
+      Jesus had made a fatal error in taking René Drucquer. Never was a man more
+      unfitted to do his duty in that station of life in which he was placed.
+      His religious enthusiasm stopped short of fanaticism; his pliability would
+      not bend so low as duplicity. All this the young journalist learnt as he
+      penetrated further into the sensitive depths of his companion's gentle
+      temperament. The priest was of those men to whom love and brotherly
+      affection are as necessary as the air they breathe. His wavering instincts
+      were capable of being hardened into convictions; his natural gifts (and
+      they were many) could be raised into talents; his life, in fact, could
+      have been made a success by one influence&mdash;the love of a woman&mdash;the
+      one influence that was forbidden: the single human acquirement that must
+      for ever be beyond the priest's reach. This Christian Vellacott felt in a
+      vague, uncertain way. He did not know very much about love and its
+      influence upon a man's character, these questions never having come under
+      his journalistic field of inquiry; but he had lately begun to wonder
+      whether man's life was given to him to be influenced by no other thoughts
+      than those in his own brain&mdash;whether there is not in our existence a
+      completing area in the development of character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking at the matter from his own personal point of view&mdash;from
+      whence even the best of us look upon most things&mdash;he was of the
+      opinion that love stands in the path of the majority of men. This had been
+      his view of the matter for many years; probably it was the reflection of
+      his father's cynically outspoken opinion, and a well-grown idea is hard to
+      uproot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brought up, as he had been, by a pleasure-seeking and somewhat cynical
+      man, and passing from his care into the busy and practical journalistic
+      world, it was only natural that he should have acquired a certain hardness
+      of judgment which, though useful in the world, is not an amiable quality.
+      He now felt the presence of a dawning charity towards the actions of his
+      fellow-men. A month earlier he would have despised René Drucquer as a weak
+      and incapable man; now there was in his heart only pity for the young
+      priest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after darkness had settled over the country the carriage descended
+      into a deep and narrow valley through which ran a rapid river of no great
+      breadth. Here the driver stopped, and the two travellers descended from
+      the vehicle. The priest exchanged a few words in a low voice with one of
+      the servants who had leapt down from the box, and then turning to
+      Vellacott he said in a curt manner&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Follow me, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman obeyed, and leaving the road they turned along a broad
+      pathway running at the side of the water. Christian noticed that they were
+      going upstream. Presently they reached a cottage, and a woman came from
+      the open doorway at their approach. Without any greeting or word of
+      welcome she led the way down some wooden steps to the ferry-boat. As she
+      rowed them across, the journalist took note of everything in his quick,
+      keen way. The depth of the water, rapidity of current, and even the fact
+      that the boat woman was not paid for her services.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are we near our destination?&rdquo; he asked in English when he saw this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have five minutes more,&rdquo; replied the priest in the same language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On landing, they followed another small path for some distance,
+      down-stream. It was a quiet moss-grown path, with poplar trees on either
+      side, and appeared to be little used. Suddenly the young priest stopped.
+      There was the trunk of an elm tree lying on the inside of the path,
+      evidently cut for the purpose of making a rough seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us sit here a few minutes,&rdquo; said René.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obeyed. He sat forward and stretched his long legs out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am aching all over,&rdquo; he said impatiently; &ldquo;I wonder what it means!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest ignored the remark entirely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; he said presently, &ldquo;a few minutes more and my care of you
+      ceases. This journey will be over. For me it has been very eventful. In
+      these few days I have learnt more than I did during all the long years of
+      my education, and what I have learnt will never be forgotten. Without
+      breathing one word of religion you have taught me to respect yours;
+      without uttering a single complaint you have made me think with horror and
+      shame of the part I have played in this affair. I dare ... scarcely hope
+      that one day you will forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian raised his hand slowly to his forehead. The gleam of the sleek,
+      smooth water flowing past his feet made him giddy. He wondered vaguely if
+      the strange, dull feeling that was creeping over his senses was the result
+      of extreme fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You speak as if we were never going to meet again,&rdquo; he said dreamily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest did not answer for some moments. His slim hands were tightly
+      clasped upon his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is probable,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;that such will be the case. If our
+      friendship is discovered it is certain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then our friendship must not be discovered,&rdquo; said the practical
+      Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my friend, that would be deceit&mdash;duplicity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little duplicity, more or less, cannot matter much,&rdquo; replied Christian,
+      in a harder voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked up sharply, half fearing that his own treachery in the
+      matter of the letter was suspected. But his companion remained silent, and
+      the darkness prevented the expression of his face from being seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; continued the Englishman, after a long pause, &ldquo;I am to be left
+      here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a peculiar ring of weary indifference in his tone, as if it
+      mattered little where he was left. The priest noticed it and remembered it
+      later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing, my friend. I have but to obey my orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And close your mind against thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot prevent the thoughts from coming into my mind,&rdquo; replied the
+      priest gently, &ldquo;but I can keep them prisoners when they have entered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose suddenly, and led the way along the river bank. Had Christian's
+      manner been more encouraging he would have told him then and there about
+      the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose from
+      behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one of the
+      lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to René
+      Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after quitting the
+      carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and unsuspected. He
+      came, however, too late. Unconsciously, Christian had saved his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII. GREEK AND GREEK
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When they had walked about a hundred yards farther on, the footpath was
+      brought to a sudden termination by a house built across it to the water's
+      edge. In this lay the explanation of its scanty use and luxuriant growth
+      of moss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not a dark night, and without difficulty the priest found the
+      handle of a bell, of which, however, no sound reached their ears. The
+      door, cut deep in the stone, was opened after a short delay by a lay
+      brother who showed no signs of rigid fasting. Again Christian noticed that
+      no greeting was exchanged, no word of explanation offered or expected. The
+      lay brother led the way along a dimly lighted corridor, in which there
+      were doors upon each side at regular intervals. There was a chill and
+      stony feeling in the atmosphere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the corridor a gleam of light shone through a half-open door
+      upon the bare stone floor. Into this cell Christian was shown. Without
+      even noticing whether the priest followed him or not, he entered the tiny
+      room and threw himself wearily upon the bed. Although it was an intensely
+      hot night he shivered a little, and as he lay he clasped his head with
+      either hand. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and the colour had entirely
+      left his cheeks, though his lips were red and moist. He took no notice of
+      his surroundings, which, though simple and somewhat bare, were not devoid
+      of comfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, René Drucquer had followed the door-keeper up a broad
+      flight of stairs to a second corridor which was identical with that below,
+      except that a room took the place of this small entrance-lobby and broad
+      door. Thus the windows of this room were immediately above the river,
+      which rendered them entirely free from overlookers, as the land on the
+      opposite side was low and devoid of trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lay brother stopped in front of the door of this apartment, and
+      allowed the young priest to pass him and knock at the door with his own
+      hands. The response from within was uttered in such a low tone that if he
+      had not been listening most attentively René would not have heard it. He
+      opened the door, which creaked a little on its hinges, and passed into the
+      room alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In front of him a man dressed in a black soutane was seated at a table
+      placed before the window. The only lamp in the room, which was long and
+      narrow, stood on the table before him, so that the light of it was
+      reflected from his sleek black head disfigured by a tiny tonsure. As René
+      Drucquer advanced up the room, the occupant raised his head slightly, but
+      made no attempt to turn round. With a quick, unobtrusive movement of his
+      large white hand he moved the papers on the table before him, so that no
+      written matter remained exposed to view. Upon the table were several
+      books, and on the right-hand side of the plain inkstand stood a
+      beautifully carved stone crucifix, while upon the left there was a small
+      mirror no larger than a carte-de-visite. This was placed at a slight angle
+      upon a tiny wire easel, and by raising his eyes any person seated at the
+      table could at once see what was passing in the room behind him&mdash;the
+      entire apartment, including the door, being reflected in the mirror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though seated, the occupant of this peculiarly constructed room was
+      evidently tall. His shoulders, though narrow, were very square, and in any
+      other garment than a thin soutane his slightness of build would scarcely
+      have been noticeable. His head was of singular and remarkable shape. Very
+      narrow from temple to temple, it was quite level from the summit of the
+      high forehead to the spot where the tonsure gleamed whitely, and the
+      length of the skull from front to back was abnormal. The dullest observer
+      could not have failed to recognise that there was something extraordinary
+      in such a head, either for good or evil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé Drucquer advanced across the bare stone floor, and took his stand
+      at the left side of the table, within a yard of his Provincial's elbow.
+      Before taking any notice of him, the Provincial opened a thick book bound
+      in dark morocco leather, of which the leaves were of white unruled paper,
+      interleaved, like a diary, with blotting paper. The pages were numbered,
+      although there was, apparently, no index attached to the volume. After a
+      moment's thought, the tall man turned to a certain folio which was
+      partially covered by a fine handwriting in short paragraphs. Then for the
+      first time he looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; he said, in full melodious voice. As he raised his face
+      the light of the lamp fell directly upon it. There was evidently no desire
+      to conceal any passing expression by the stale old method of a shaded
+      lamp. The face was worthy of the head. Clean-cut, calm, and dignified; it
+      was singularly fascinating, not only by reason of its beauty, which was
+      undeniable, but owing to the calm, almost superhuman power that lay in the
+      gaze of the velvety eyes. There was no keenness of expression, no
+      quickness of glance, and no seeking after effect by mobility of lash or
+      lid. When he raised his eyes, the lower lid was elevated simultaneously,
+      which peculiarity, concealing the white around the pupil, imparted an
+      uncomfortable sense of inscrutability. There was no expression beyond a
+      vague sense of velvety depth, such as is felt upon gazing for some space
+      of time down a deep well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; replied René Drucquer, meeting with some hesitation the
+      slow, kindly glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant forward and took from the tray of the inkstand a
+      quill pen. With the point of it he followed the lines written in the book
+      before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; he said, in a modulated and business-like tone, &ldquo;that you
+      have been entirely successful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes
+      once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in the
+      same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the book,
+      he returned to the written notes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You left,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening
+      you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you
+      arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part has
+      been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with all
+      expedition. So&mdash;&rdquo; here the Provincial raised the pen from the book
+      with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly,
+      &ldquo;so&mdash;you have been entirely successful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in
+      which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood
+      motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same
+      kind, even voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a
+      rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am sorry. Had you time&mdash;were you enabled to administer to him
+      the Holy Rites?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my father. He was killed at one blow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested
+      steadily on the book in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!&rdquo; he asked
+      indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I endeavoured to prevent such effect
+      arising, and&mdash;and in this the Englishman helped me greatly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young
+      priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching his
+      slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his black
+      soutane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; he said smoothly. &ldquo;As you know, I am a great advocate for
+      frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I
+      have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar treatment.
+      It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory respecting
+      your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with this
+      Englishman. Is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his hands
+      one over the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not such as I expected,&rdquo; he replied after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Provincial meditatively. &ldquo;They are a strange race. Some of
+      them are strong&mdash;very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish;
+      and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I think he is very intelligent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he violent or abusive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he was calm and almost indifferent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand in
+      the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window at
+      the end of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a seat, my son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have yet many questions to ask you. I
+      am afraid I forgot that you might be tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now tell me,&rdquo; he continued, when René had seated himself, &ldquo;do you think
+      this indifference was assumed by way of disarming suspicion and for the
+      purpose of effecting a speedy escape?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you converse together to any extent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were naturally thrown together a great deal; especially after the
+      death of the 'patron.' He was of great assistance to me and to Hoel Grall,
+      the second in command, by reason of his knowledge of seamanship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He is expert in such matters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A further note was here added to the partially-filled page of the
+      manuscript book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what subjects did he speak? Of religion, our Order, politics, himself
+      and his captivity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of none of those.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant back suddenly in his chair, and for some minutes
+      complete silence reigned in the room. He was evidently thinking deeply,
+      and his eyes were fixed upon the open book with inscrutable immobility.
+      Once he glanced slowly towards René Drucquer, who sat with downcast eyes
+      and interlocked fingers. Then he pressed back his elbows and inhaled a
+      deep breath, as if weary of sitting in one position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met Englishmen,&rdquo; he said speculatively, &ldquo;of a type similar&mdash;I
+      think&mdash;to this man. They never spoke of religion, of themselves or of
+      their own opinion; and yet they were not silent men. Upon most subjects
+      they could converse intelligently, and upon some with brilliancy; but
+      these subjects were invariably treated in a strictly general sense. Such
+      men <i>never</i> argue, and never appear to be highly interested in that
+      of which they happen to be speaking.... They make excellent listeners....&rdquo;
+       Here the speaker stopped for a moment and passed his long hand downwards
+      across his eyes as if the light were troubling his sight; in doing so he
+      glanced again towards the Abbé's fingers, which were now quite motionless,
+      the knuckles gleaming like ivory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... And one never knows quite how much they remember and how much they
+      forget. Perhaps it is that they hear everything ... and forget nothing. Is
+      our friend of this type, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is such men as he who have made that little island what it is. They
+      are difficult subjects; but they are liable to sacrifice their
+      opportunities to a mistaken creed they call honour, and therefore they are
+      not such dangerous enemies as they otherwise might have been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial said these words in a lighter manner, almost amounting to
+      pleasantry, and did not appear to notice that the priest moved uneasily in
+      his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;you have learnt nothing of importance during the
+      few days you have passed with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, my father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he make any attempt to communicate with his friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wrote a letter which he requested me to post.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant forward in his chair and took a pen in his right
+      hand, while he extended his left across the table towards his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I burnt it,&rdquo; said René gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That is a pity. Why did you do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had discretion!&rdquo; replied the young priest, with quiet determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial examined the point of his pen critically, his perfectly
+      formed lips slightly apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he murmured reflectively. &ldquo;Yes, of course, you had discretion. What
+      was in the letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few words in English, telling his friends to have no anxiety, and
+      asking them particularly to institute no search, as he would return home
+      as soon as he desired to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He said that, did he? And the letter was addressed to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial made another note in the manuscript book. Then he read the
+      whole page over carefully and critically. His attitude was like that of a
+      physician about to pronounce a diagnosis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said reflectively, without looking up, &ldquo;was there nothing
+      noticeable about him in any way? Nothing characteristic of the man, I
+      mean, and peculiar. How would you describe him, in fact?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say,&rdquo; replied René Drucquer, &ldquo;that his chief characteristic is
+      energy; but for some reason, during these last two days this seems to have
+      slowly evaporated. His resistance on Wednesday night was very energetic&mdash;he
+      dislocated my arm, and reset it later&mdash;and when the vessel was in
+      danger he was full of life. Later this peculiar indifference of manner
+      came over him, and hour by hour it has increased in power. It almost seems
+      as if he were anxious to keep away from England just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his long white finger to his upper lip. It was the
+      action of a man who is in the habit of tugging gently at his moustache
+      when in thought, and one would almost have said that the smooth-faced
+      priest had at no very distant period worn that manly ornament. His finger
+      passed over the shaded skin with a disagreeable, rasping sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That does not sound very likely,&rdquo; he said slowly. &ldquo;Have you any tangible
+      reason, to offer in support of this theory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my father. But the idea came to me, and so I mention it. It seemed as
+      if this desire came to him upon reflection, after the ship was out of
+      danger, and the indifference was contemporaneous with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial suddenly closed the book and laid aside his pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my son!&rdquo; he said, in smooth, heartless tones, &ldquo;I will not
+      trouble you any more to-night. You will need food and rest. Good night, my
+      son. You have done well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer rose and gravely passed down the long room. Before he
+      reached the door, however, the clear voice of his superior caused him to
+      pause for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you go down to the refectory,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;kindly make a request that
+      Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want you
+      to see him before I do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind René Drucquer the Provincial rose from his
+      seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the table.
+      Presently he drew aside the curtain which hid a small recess near the
+      door, whore a simple bed and a small table were concealed. With a brush he
+      smoothed back his sleek hair, and, dipping the ends of his fingers into a
+      basin of water, he wiped them carefully. Thus he prepared to receive
+      Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to his chair and seated himself somewhat wearily. Although
+      there were but few papers on the table, he had three hours' hard work
+      before him yet. He leant back, and again, that singular gesture, as if to
+      stroke a moustache that was not there, was noticeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a dull presentiment,&rdquo; he muttered reflectively, &ldquo;that we have made
+      a mistake here. We have gone about it in the wrong way, and if there is
+      blame to be attached to any one, Talma is the man. That temper of his is
+      fatal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause he heaved a weary sigh, and stretched his long arms out on
+      either side, enjoying a free and open yawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah me!&rdquo; he sighed, &ldquo;what an uphill fight this has become, and day by day
+      it grows harder. Day by day we lose power; one hold after another slips
+      from our grasp. Perhaps it means that this vast organisation is effete&mdash;perhaps,
+      after all, we are dying of inanition, and yet&mdash;yet it should not be,
+      for we have the people still.... Ah! I hear footsteps. This is our
+      journalistic friend, no doubt. I think he will prove interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later someone knocked softly at the door. There was a slight
+      shuffling of feet, and Christian Vellacott entered the room alone. There
+      was a peculiar dull expression in his eyes, as if he were suffering pain,
+      mental or physical. After glancing at the mirror, the Provincial rose and
+      bowed formally with his hand upon the back of his chair. As the Englishman
+      came forward the Jesuit glanced at his face, and with a polite motion of
+      the hand he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, take the trouble of seating yourself,&rdquo; speaking in French at once,
+      with no apology, as if well aware that his companion knew that language as
+      perfectly as his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; replied Christian. He drew the chair slightly forward as he
+      seated himself, and fixed his eyes upon the Jesuit's face. Through the
+      entire interview he never removed his gaze, and he noticed that until the
+      last words were spoken those soft, deep eyes were never raised to his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said the Jesuit at length, almost humbly, &ldquo;that we are
+      irreconcilable enemies, Mr. Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manner in which this was spoken did not bear the slightest resemblance
+      to the cold superiority with which René Drucquer had been treated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman sat with one lean hand resting on the table and watched. He
+      knew that some reply was expected, but in face of that knowledge he chose
+      to remain silent. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek. The inscrutable
+      Provincial had met a foeman worthy of his steel at last. His strange
+      magnetic influence threw itself vainly against a will as firm as his own,
+      and he felt that his incidental effects, dramatic and conversational, fell
+      flat. Instantly he became interested in Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need hardly remind a man of your discrimination, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; he
+      continued tentatively, &ldquo;that there are two sides to every question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman smiled and moved slightly in his chair, drawing in his feet
+      and leaning forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Implying, I presume,&rdquo; he said lightly, &ldquo;that in this particular question
+      you are on one side and I upon the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! it seems so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott leant back in his chair again and crossed his legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my turn,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;I must remind you, monsieur, that I am a
+      journalist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and waited for his
+      companion to continue. His silence and the momentary motion of his
+      eyebrows, which in no way affected the lids, expressed admirably his
+      failure to see the connection of his companion's remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which means,&rdquo; Christian went on to explain, &ldquo;that my place is not upon
+      either side of the question, but in the middle. I belong to no party, and
+      I am the enemy of no man. I do not lead men's opinions. It is my duty to
+      state facts as plainly and as coldly as possible in order that my
+      countrymen may form their own judgment. It may appear that at one time I
+      write upon one side of the question; the next week I may seem to write
+      upon the other. That is one of the misfortunes of my calling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we are not necessarily enemies,&rdquo; said the Jesuit softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;not necessarily. On the other hand,&rdquo; continued Christian, with
+      daring deliberation, &ldquo;it is not at all necessary that we should be
+      friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit smiled slightly&mdash;so slightly that it was the mere ghost of
+      a smile, affecting the lines of his small mouth, but in no way relieving
+      the soft darkness of his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we are enemies,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He whose follower I am, said that all who
+      are not with Him are against Him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman's lips closed suddenly, and a peculiar stony look came over
+      his face. There was one subject upon which he had determined not to
+      converse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am instructed,&rdquo; continued the Provincial, with a sudden change of
+      manner from pleasant to practical, &ldquo;to ask of you a written promise never
+      to write one word either for or against the Society of Jesus again. In
+      exchange for that promise I am empowered to tender to you the sincere
+      apologies of the Society for the inconvenience to which you may have been
+      put, and to assist you in every way to return home at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A great silence followed this speech. A small clock suspended somewhere in
+      the room ticked monotonously, otherwise there was no sound audible. The
+      two men sat within a yard of each other, each thinking, of the other in
+      his individual way, from his individual point of view, the Jesuit with
+      downcast eyes, his companion watching his immobile features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Christian Vellacott's full and quiet tones broke the spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said simply, &ldquo;I refuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial rose from his seat, pushing it back as he did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I will not detain you any longer. You are no doubt fatigued. The lay
+      brother waiting outside will show you the room assigned to you, and at
+      whatever time of day or night you may wish to see me, remember that I am
+      at your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian rose also. He appeared to hesitate, and then to grasp the table
+      with both hands to assist himself. He stood for a moment, and suddenly
+      tottered forward. Had not the Provincial caught him he would have fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My head turns,&rdquo; he mumbled incoherently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter? ... what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit slipped his arm round him&mdash;a slight arm, but as hard and
+      strong as steel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are tired,&rdquo; he said sympathetically, &ldquo;perhaps you have a little touch
+      of fever. Come, I will assist you to your room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the two men passed out together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In later days Christian Vellacott could bring back to his memory no
+      distinct recollection of that first night spent in the monastery. There
+      was an indefinite remembrance of the steady, monotonous clang of a bell in
+      the first hours, doubtless the tolling of the matins, calling the elect to
+      prayer at midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After that he must have fallen into a deep, lethargic sleep, for he never
+      heard the distant strains of the organ and the melodious chanting of gruff
+      voices. The strange, unquiet melody hovered over him in the little cell,
+      following him as he glided away from earth upon the blessed wings of
+      sleep, and haunted his restless dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The monks were early astir next morning, for the sweet smell of drying hay
+      filled the air, and the second crop of the fruitful earth lay waiting to
+      be stacked. With tucked-up gowns and bared arms the sturdy devotees worked
+      with rake and pitchfork. No whispered word passed between them; none
+      raised his head to look around upon the smiling landscape or search in the
+      cloudless sky for the tiny lark whose morning hymn rippled down to them.
+      Each worked on in silence, tossing the scented hay, his mind being no
+      doubt filled with thoughts above all earthly things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near at hand lay a carefully-kept vegetable garden of large dimensions.
+      Here grew in profusion all nourishing roots and herbs, but there was no
+      sign of more luscious fruits. Small birds hopped and fluttered here and
+      there unheeded and unmolested, calling to each other joyously, and the
+      warming air was alive with the hum of tinier wings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this walked man&mdash;the lord of all&mdash;humbly,
+      silently, with bowed head and unadmiring eyes&mdash;man whose life was
+      vouchsafed for the enjoyment of all these things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little square patch of sunlight lay on the stone floor of the small cell
+      allotted to Christian Vellacott. The thick oak door deadened the sounds of
+      life in the monastery, such as they were, and the strong, laboured
+      breathing of the young Englishman alone broke the chill silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian lay, all dressed, on the narrow bed. His eyes were half closed,
+      and the ruddy brown of his cheeks had faded into an ashy grey. His
+      clenched hands lay numbly at his side. Through his open, swollen lips
+      meaningless words came in a hoarse whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the door opened with a creaking sound, but the sleeper moved no
+      limb or feature. René Drucquer entered the cell and ran quickly to the
+      bedside. Behind, with more dignity and deliberation, followed the
+      sub-prior of the monastery. The young priest had obtained permission from
+      his Provincial to see Christian Vellacott for a few moments before his
+      hurried departure for India. Thus René had received his mission sooner
+      than he had hoped for. The astute and far-seeing Provincial had from the
+      beginning intended that René Drucquer should be removed from harm's way
+      without delay once his disagreeable mission to St. Mary Western was
+      performed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father,&rdquo; exclaimed the young priest in alarm, &ldquo;he is dying!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The venerable sub-prior bent his head over the bed. He was a tall, spare
+      man, with very sunken cheeks, and a marvellous expression of placid
+      contentment in his eyes such as one never finds in the face of a young
+      monk. He was very learned in medicines, and in the administration of such
+      simple herbs as were required to remedy the illnesses within the monastery
+      walls. Perhaps some of his patients died when they might have lived under
+      more skilled treatment, but it is a short and easy step from life to death
+      within a comfortless cell, and his bony hands were as tender over his sick
+      brethren as those of a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt the Englishman's pulse and watched his ashen face for some
+      moments, touching the clammy forehead softly, while René Drucquer stood by
+      with a great sickening weight of remorse and fear upon his heart. Then the
+      sub-prior knelt stiffly down, and placed his clean-shaven lips near to
+      Christian's ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you hear me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian breathed less heavily, as if he were listening to some far-off
+      sound, but never moved a feature. Presently he began to murmur
+      incoherently, and the sub-prior bent his ear to listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much good would a blessing of mine do you, Hilda,&rdquo; observed Christian
+      into the reverend ear. The old gentleman raised his cadaverous head and
+      looked somewhat puzzled. Again he listened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look after Aunt Judy&mdash;she cannot last long,&rdquo; murmured the young
+      Englishman in his native tongue, which was unknown to the monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is fever,&rdquo; said the sub-prior presently&mdash;&ldquo;one of those terrible
+      fevers which kill men as the cold kills flies!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No thought seemed to enter the monk's mind of possible infection. He knelt
+      upon the cold floor with one bare and bony arm beneath the sick man's
+      head, while the other lay across his breast. He was looking intently into
+      the veiled eyes, inhaling the very breath of the swollen lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will he die, my father?&rdquo; asked René Drucquer in a whisper; his face was
+      as pale as Vellacott's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in the hands of the good God,&rdquo; was the pious answer. The tall monk
+      rose to his feet and stood before the bed thinking. He rubbed his bony
+      hands together slowly. Through the tiny window a shaft of sunlight poured
+      down upon his grizzled head, and showed up relentlessly the deep furrows
+      that ran diagonally down from his cheek-bone to his chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must watch here, my son,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;while I inform the
+      Father-Provincial of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The venerable sub-prior was no Jesuit, and perhaps he would have been just
+      as well pleased had the Provincial elected to live elsewhere than in the
+      monastery. But the Prior&mdash;an old man of ninety, and incapable of work
+      or thought&mdash;was completely in the power of the Society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he found himself alone with the Englishman, René Drucquer sat wearily
+      upon a small wooden bench, the only form of seat provided, and leaned his
+      narrow face upon his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The prospect that he saw before him as he sat staring vacantly at the
+      floor of the little cell was black enough. He saw no possible outlet, and
+      he had not the courage to force his way through the barriers erected all
+      round him. It must be remembered that he was a Roman Catholic, and over a
+      sincere disciple of the Mother Church the power of the Jesuits is greater
+      than man should ever be allowed to exercise. The slavery that England
+      fought against so restlessly is nothing to it, for mental bondage is
+      infinitely heavier than physical service. He had determined to accept the
+      Provincial's offer of missionary work in Asia, but the sudden horror of
+      realising that he was a Jesuit, and could never be anything else than a
+      Jesuit for the rest of his days, was fresh upon him. He was too young yet
+      to find consolation in the thought that he at all events could attempt to
+      steer a clear, unsullied course through the shoals and quicksands that
+      surround a priest's existence, and he was too old to buoy himself up with
+      the false hope that he might, despite his Jesuit's oath, do some good work
+      for his Church. His awakening had been rendered more terrible by the
+      brilliancy of the dreams which it had interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not looked upon Christian Vellacott as a victim hitherto, for the
+      bravest receive the least sympathy, and the young Englishman's cool way of
+      treating his reverse of fortune had repelled pity or commiseration. But
+      now all that was changed. Whatever this sickness might prove to be, René
+      Drucquer felt that the blame of it lay at his own door. If Christian
+      Vellacott were to die, he, René Drucquer, was in the eyes of God a
+      murderer, for he had forcibly brought him to his death. This was an
+      unpleasant reflection for a young devotee whose inward soul was full of
+      human kindness; and the presence of the strong man who lay gasping for
+      breath upon the narrow, comfortless bed was not reassuring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only natural that those thoughts, coupled with the realisation of
+      the aimlessness of his own existence, should have bred in the young
+      Jesuit's heart a dull fire of antagonism against the man who was in
+      immediate authority over him, and when the Provincial noiselessly entered
+      the cell a few minutes later, he felt a sudden thrill of misgiving at the
+      thought that his feelings were sacred to none&mdash;that this man with his
+      deep, inscrutable eyes could read the face of his very soul like an open
+      book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this, René Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the
+      presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it
+      extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this knowledge
+      in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him in every
+      turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise it.
+      Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never been
+      turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of incurring
+      the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the line of life
+      which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the love of their
+      fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of motion.
+      His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his eyes
+      rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension. He
+      approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist. For
+      a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face, and
+      then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here again
+      there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while René, who had
+      risen from his seat, was near at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This man, my father,&rdquo; said the Provincial coldly, &ldquo;must not die. You must
+      take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is necessary you
+      can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense, and I shall be
+      grieved to hear of his death!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had
+      already lasted nearly three minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and
+      the door, so that he was in a position to command attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father,&rdquo; he pleaded, &ldquo;may I nurse him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved his
+      hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said softly, &ldquo;you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour,&rdquo; and he
+      passed out into the noiseless corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV. BACK TO LIFE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white
+      monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and
+      full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial
+      promenade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is, perhaps, needless to observe that he was alone. No one ever walked
+      with the Provincial. No footstep ever crushed the gravel in harmony with
+      his gliding tread. Perhaps, indeed, no one had ever walked with him thus,
+      in the twilight, since a fairy, dancing form had moved in the shadow of
+      his tall person, and footsteps lighter than his own had vainly endeavoured
+      to keep time with his longer limbs. But that was in no monastery garden;
+      and the useful, vegetable producing enclosure bore little resemblance to
+      the château terrace. In those days it may be that there was a gleam of
+      life in the man's deep, velvety eyes&mdash;perhaps, indeed, a moustache
+      adorned the short, twisted lip where the white fingers rasped so
+      frequently now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pious monks were busy with their evening meal, and the Provincial was
+      quite alone in the garden. All around him the leaves glowed ruddily in the
+      warm light. Everywhere the fruits of earth were ripe and full with mature
+      beauty; but the solitary walker noted none of these. He paced backwards
+      and forwards with downcast eyes, turning slowly and indifferently as if it
+      mattered little where he walked. The merry blackbirds in the hay field
+      adjoining the garden called to each other continuously, and from a hidden
+      rookery came the voice of the dusky settlers, which is, perhaps, the
+      saddest sound in all nature's harmonies. But the Jesuit resolutely refused
+      to listen. Once, however, he stopped and stood motionless for some
+      seconds, with his head turned slightly to meet the distant cry; but he
+      never raised his eyes, which were deep and lifeless in their gaze. It may
+      be that there was a rookery near that southern château, where he once had
+      walked in the solemn evening hour, or perhaps he did not hear that sound
+      at all though his ear was turned towards it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would be hard indeed to read from the priest's still features the
+      thoughts that might be passing through his powerful brain; but the strange
+      influence of his being was such as makes itself felt without any spoken
+      word. As he walked there with his long hands clasped behind his back, his
+      peculiarly shaped head bent slightly forward, and his perfect lips closely
+      pressed, no one could have looked at him without feeling instinctively
+      that no ordinary mind was busy beneath the tiny tonsure&mdash;that no
+      ordinary soul breathed there for weal or woe, seeking after higher things
+      in the right way or the wrong. The man's cultivated repose of manner, his
+      evident intellectuality, and his subtle strength of purpose visible in
+      every glance of his eyes, betrayed that although his life might be passed
+      in the calm retreat of a monastery, his soul was not there. The man was
+      never created to pass his existence in prayerful meditation; his mission
+      was one of strife and contention amidst the strong minds of the age. One
+      felt that he was living in this quiet Breton valley for a purpose; that
+      from this peaceful spot he was dexterously handling wires that caused
+      puppets&mdash;aye, puppets with golden crowns&mdash;to dance, and smirk,
+      and bow in the farthest corners of the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the Jesuit heard footsteps upon the gravel at the far side of
+      the garden, but he did not raise his head. His interest in the trivial
+      incidents of everyday life appeared to be quite dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Softly, softly!&rdquo; said a deep, rough voice, which the Provincial
+      recognised as that of the sub-prior; then he raised his eyes slightly and
+      looked across the garden, without, however, altering his pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw there Christian Vellacott walking by the side of the hard-faced old
+      monk with long, hesitating strides, like a man who had forgotten how to
+      use his legs. It was exactly six weeks since the young journalist had
+      passed through that garden with René Drucquer, and those weeks had been to
+      him a strange and not unpleasant dream. It seemed as if the man lying upon
+      that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic Christian
+      Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily comfortable
+      from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a speculative
+      description, as if he looked on things from afar off. Nothing seemed to
+      matter much. There was an all-pervading sense of restful indifference as
+      to whether it might be night or day, morning, noon, or evening. All
+      responsibility in existence seemed to have left him: his ready pride of
+      self-dependence had given way to a gentle obedience, and the passage from
+      wakefulness to sleep was very sweet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through all those dreamy hours he heard the soft rustle of woollen
+      garments and the suppressed shuffle of sandalled feet. Whenever he opened
+      his heavy eyes he discerned vaguely in the dim light a grey, still form
+      seated upon the plain wooden bench at his bedside. Whenever he tried to
+      change his position upon the hard bed and his weary bones refused their
+      function, strong, hard hands were slipped beneath him and kind assistance
+      freely given. As a rule, it was the tall sub-prior who ministered to the
+      sick man, fighting the dread fever with all his simple knowledge; his
+      hands smoothed oftenest the tossed pillow; but many clean-shaven, strong,
+      and weary faces were bowed over the bed during those six weeks, for there
+      was a competition for the post of sick-nurse. The monks loved to feel that
+      they were performing some tangible good, and not spending their hours over
+      make-believe tasks like a man-of-warsman in fine weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One frequent visitor, however, Christian Vellacott never saw beneath his
+      lazy lashes. The Provincial never entered that little cell unless he was
+      positively informed that its inmate was asleep. The inscrutable Jesuit
+      seemed almost to be ashamed of the anxiety that he undoubtedly felt
+      respecting the sick man thus thrown upon his hands by a peculiar chain of
+      incidents. He spoke coldly and sarcastically to the sub-prior whenever he
+      condescended to mention the subject at all; but no day passed in which he
+      failed to pay at least one visit to the little cell at the end of the
+      long, silent corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Softly, softly!&rdquo; said the old sub-prior, holding out his bony hand to
+      stay his companion's progress, &ldquo;you are too ambitious, my son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed in a low, weak voice, and raised his head to look round
+      him. The laugh ceased suddenly as he caught sight of the Provincial, and
+      across the potato-bed the two strong men looked speculatively into each
+      other's eyes in the peaceful twilight. The Jesuit's gaze fell first, and
+      with a dignified bow he moved gently away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am stronger than I look, my father,&rdquo; said Christian, turning to his
+      companion. Then they walked slowly on, and presently rested upon a wooden
+      bench built against the monastery wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman leaned back and watched the Provincial, who was
+      pacing backwards and forwards where they had first seen him. The old monk
+      sat with clasped hands, and gravely contemplated the gravel beneath his
+      feet. Thus they waited together within the high, whitewashed walls, while
+      the light faded from the western sky. Three types, as strangely contrasted
+      as the student of human kind could wish to see: the old monk with his
+      placid bloodless face and strong useless arms&mdash;a wasted energy, a
+      mere monument to mistaken zeal; and the younger men so widely severed by
+      social circumstances, and yet resembling each other somewhat in heart and
+      soul. Each had a strong individuality&mdash;each a great and far-reaching
+      vitality. Each was, in his way, a power in the world, as all strong minds
+      are; for in face of what may be said (and with apparent justice)
+      respecting chance and mere good fortune, good men must come to the top
+      among their fellows. They must&mdash;and most assuredly they do. As in
+      olden days the doughtiest knights sought each other in the battlefield to
+      measure steel, so in these later times the ruling intellects of the day
+      meet and clear a circle round them. The Provincial was a power in the
+      Society of Jesus; perhaps he was destined one day to be General of it; and
+      Christian Vellacott had suddenly appeared upon the field of politic
+      strife, heralding his arrival with two most deadly blows dealt in masterly
+      succession. From the first they were sure to come together, sooner or
+      later; and now, when they were separated by nothing more formidable than a
+      bed of potatoes, they were glancing askance and longing to be at each
+      other. But it could not be. Had the sub-prior left the garden it would
+      have made no difference. It was morally impossible that those two men
+      could speak what they were thinking, for one of them was a Jesuit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial, however, made the first move, and the Englishman often
+      wondered in later days what his intention might have been. He walked on to
+      the northern end of the garden, where a few thick-stemmed pear trees were
+      trained against the wall. The fruit was hanging in profusion, for it was
+      not consumed in the monastery but given to the poor at harvest-time. The
+      Provincial selected a brown, ripe pear, and broke it delicately from the
+      tree without allowing his fingers to come in contact with the fruit
+      itself. Then he turned and walked with the same lazy precision towards the
+      two other occupants of the garden. At his approach the sub-prior rose from
+      his seat and stood motionless with clasped hands; there was a faint
+      suggestion of antagonism in his attitude, which was quite devoid of
+      servility. Christian, however, remained seated, raising his keen grey eyes
+      to the Provincial's face with a quiet self-assertion which the Jesuit
+      ignored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad, Monsieur, to see you restored to health,&rdquo; he said coldly to
+      Christian, meeting his gaze for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman bowed very slightly, and there was a peculiar
+      expressiveness in the action which betrayed his foreign education, but the
+      cool silence with which he waited for the Provincial to speak again was
+      essentially British. The Jesuit moved and glanced slowly beneath his
+      lowered eyelids towards the motionless figure of the sub-prior. He was too
+      highly bred to allow himself to be betrayed into any sign of
+      embarrassment, and too clever to let the Englishman see that he was
+      hesitating. After a momentary pause he turned gravely to the sub-prior,
+      and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you allow your patient, my brother, to taste of our fruit? it is
+      ripe and wholesome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, without awaiting a reply, he presented the pear to Vellacott. It was
+      a strange action, and no doubt there was some deep intention in it. The
+      Jesuit must have known, however, from René Drucquer's report, and from his
+      own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a mould to
+      allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this description,
+      however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit in which it
+      was conceived. Perhaps he read the Englishman's character totally wrong,
+      although his experience of men must have been very great; or perhaps he
+      really wished to conciliate him, and took this first step with the
+      graceful delicacy of his nation, with a view to following it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a conventional word of thanks, Vellacott took the pear and set it
+      down upon the bench at his side. Whatever the Jesuit's intention might
+      have been, it was frustrated by his quiet action. It would have been so
+      easy to have said a few words of praise regarding the fruit, and it was
+      only natural to have begun eating it at once; but Vellacott read a deeper
+      meaning in all this, and he chose a more difficult course. It was
+      assuredly harder to keep silence then than to talk, and a weaker-minded
+      man would have thanked the Provincial with effusion. The manner in which
+      Vellacott laid the fruit upon the bench, his quiet and deliberate silence,
+      conveyed unmistakably and intentionally that the Provincial's society was
+      as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. There was nothing to be done but take
+      the hint; and in the lowering twilight the solitary, miserable man moved
+      reluctantly away. With contemplative hardness of heart the Englishman
+      watched him go; there was no feeling of triumph in his soul&mdash;neither,
+      however, was there pity. The Jesuit had chosen his own path, he had
+      reached his goal, and that most terrible thirst&mdash;the thirst for power&mdash;was
+      nearly slaked. If at times&mdash;at the end of a long day of hard mental
+      work, when men's hearts are softened by weariness and lowering peace&mdash;he
+      desired something else than power, some little touch of human sympathy
+      perhaps, his was the blame if no heart responded to his own. Christian
+      Vellacott sat and wondered dreamily, with the nonchalance of a man who has
+      been at the very gates of death, if power were worth this purchase-money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior had seated himself again, and with his strong hands meekly
+      clasped he waited. He knew that something was passing which he could not
+      understand: his dull instincts told him vaguely that between these two
+      strong men there was war-fare, dumb, sullen, and merciless; but unused as
+      he was to the ways of men, unlearned in the intricacies of human thoughts,
+      he could not read more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not told me yet, my father,&rdquo; said Vellacott, &ldquo;how long I have
+      been ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six weeks, my son,&rdquo; replied the taciturn monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was very bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, very bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian slowly rubbed his thin hands together. His fingers were moist
+      and singularly white, with a bleached appearance about the knuckles. His
+      face was thin, but not emaciated, his long jaw and somewhat pronounced
+      chin were not more bony than of old, but the expression of his mouth was
+      quite changed; his lips were no longer thrust upward with a determined
+      curve, and a smile seemed nearer at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a faint recollection of being very tenderly nursed and cared for;
+      generally by you, I think. No doubt you saved my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior moved a little, and drew in his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter was not in my hands,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman, with some tact, allowed this remark to pass in acquiescent
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever think that ... I was not ... going back to England?&rdquo; he
+      asked presently, in a lighter tone, though the thought of returning home
+      brought no smile to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior did not reply at once. He appeared to be thinking deeply,
+      for he leaned forward in an unmonastic attitude with his knees apart, his
+      elbows resting upon them, and his hands clasped. He gazed across the
+      prosaic potato-bed with his colourless lips slightly apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One night,&rdquo; he began meditatively, &ldquo;I went to sit with you after the bell
+      for matins had been rung. From midnight till three o'clock you never
+      moved. Then I gave you some cordial, and as I stooped over you the candle
+      flickered a little; there were strange shadows upon your face, but around
+      your lips there was a deeper shade. I had seen it once before, on my
+      brother's face when he lay upon the hard Paris pavement with a bullet in
+      his lungs, and his breath whistling through the orifice as the wind
+      whistles round our walls in winter. I held the candle closer to your face,
+      and as I did so, a hand came over my shoulder and took it from my fingers.
+      The Father Provincial had come to help me. He said no word, but set the
+      candle down upon the bed, and I held you up while he administered the
+      cordial drop by drop, as a man oils a cartwheel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Christian slowly and suggestively, &ldquo;<i>he</i> was there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk made no reply. He sat motionless, with a calm, acquired silence,
+      which might have meant much or nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he come often?&rdquo; inquired the Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very often.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This, again, was met with silence. Presently the sub-prior continued his
+      narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When daylight came at last,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the shadow had left your lips. I
+      think that night was the worst; it was then that you were nearer ...
+      nearer than at any other time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott was strong enough now to take his usual interest in
+      outward things. With the writer's instinct he went through the world
+      looking round him, always studying men and things, watching, listening,
+      and storing up experience. The Provincial interested him greatly, but he
+      did not dare to show his curiosity; he hesitated to penetrate the darkness
+      that surrounded the man's life, past, present, and future. In a minor
+      degree the taciturn sub-prior arrested his attention. The old monk was in
+      a communicative humour, and the Englishman led him on a little without
+      thinking much about the fairness of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your brother die?&rdquo; he asked sympathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Yes, my son, he died&mdash;died cursing the
+      tyrant's bullet in his lungs. He threw away his life in a vain attempt to
+      alter human nature, to set straight that which is crooked and cannot be
+      set straight. He sought to bring about at once that which cometh not until
+      the lion shall eat straw like an ox. See, my son, that you do not attempt
+      the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Christian, after a pause, &ldquo;that we all try a little, and
+      perhaps some day a great accumulation of little efforts will take place.
+      You, my father, have tried as well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk slowly shook his head, without, however, any great display of
+      conviction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not always a monk,&rdquo; he said, as if seeking to excuse a bygone
+      folly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly dark now. The birds were silent, and only the whispering of
+      the crisp, withering leaves broke the solemn hush of eventide. The two men
+      sat side by side without speaking. They had learnt to know each other
+      fairly well during the last weeks&mdash;so well that between them silence
+      was entirely restful. At length Christian moved restlessly. He had reached
+      that stage of convalescence where a position becomes irksome after a short
+      time. It was merely a sign of returning strength.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the Abbé Drucquer,&rdquo; he asked abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He left us some time ago,&rdquo; was the guarded reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He spoke of going abroad,&rdquo; said Christian, deliberately ignoring the
+      sub-prior's tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Father Provincial told me that the Abbé had gone abroad&mdash;to
+      India&mdash;to spread there the Holy Light to such as are still in
+      darkness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young journalist thought that he detected again a faint suggestion of
+      antagonism in the sub-prior's voice. The manner in which the information
+      was imparted was almost an insult to the Provincial. It was a repetition
+      of his words, given in such a manner that had the speaker been a man of
+      subtle tongue it would have implied grave doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was somewhat surprised that René Drucquer should have attained
+      his object so quickly. He never suspected that he himself might have had
+      much to do with it, that it had been deemed expedient to remove the young
+      priest beyond the possible reach of his influence, because he was quite
+      unconscious of this influence. He did not know that its power had affected
+      René Drucquer, and that some reflection of it had even touched the
+      self-contained Provincial&mdash;that it was even now making this old
+      sub-prior talk more openly than was prudent or wise. He happened to be
+      taking the question from a very different point of view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV. BACK TO WORK
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Day by day Christian Vellacott recovered strength. The enforced rest, and
+      perhaps also the monastic peacefulness of his surroundings, contributed
+      greatly towards this. In mental matters as in physical we are subject to
+      contagion, and from the placid recluses, vegetating unheeded in the heart
+      of Brittany, their prisoner acquired a certain restfulness of mind which
+      was eminently beneficial to his body. Life inside those white walls was so
+      sleepy and withal so pleasant that it was physically and mentally
+      impossible to think and worry over events that might be passing in the
+      outer world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, however, Christian began to feel idle, which is a good sign in
+      invalids; and soon the days became long and irksome. He began to take an
+      increased interest in his surroundings, and realised at once how little he
+      knew of the existence going on about him. Though he frequently passed, in
+      the dim corridors and cloisters, a silent, grey-clad figure, exchanging
+      perhaps with him a scarcely perceptible salutation, he had never spoken
+      with any other inmates of the monastery than the Provincial and the
+      sub-prior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He noticed also that the watchful care of the nurse had imperceptibly
+      glided into that of a warder. He was never allowed out of his cell unless
+      accompanied by the sub-prior&mdash;in fact, he was a state prisoner. His
+      daily walks never extended beyond the one path near the potato bed, or
+      backwards and forwards at the sunny end of the garden, where the huge
+      pears hung ripely. From neither point was any portion of the surrounding
+      country visible, but the Provincial could not veil the sun, and Christian
+      knew where lay the west and where the east.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No possible opportunity for escape presented itself, but the Englishman
+      was storing up strength and knowledge all the while. He knew that things
+      would not go on for long like this, and felt that the Provincial would
+      sooner or later summon him to the long room at the end of the corridor
+      upon the upper floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This call came to him three weeks after the day when the two men had met
+      in the garden&mdash;nine weeks after the Englishman's captivity had
+      commenced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; said the sub-prior one afternoon, &ldquo;the Father Provincial wishes
+      to speak with you to-day at three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian glanced up at the great monastery clock, which declared the time
+      to be a quarter to three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ready,&rdquo; he said quietly. There was no tremor in his voice or light
+      in his eyes, and he continued walking leisurely by the side of the old
+      monk; but a sudden thrill of pleasant anticipation warmed his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later they entered the monastery and mounted the stone stairs
+      together. As they walked along the corridor the clock in the tower
+      overhead struck three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will wait for you at the foot of the stairs,&rdquo; said the monk slowly, as
+      if with some compunction. Then he led the way to the end of the corridor
+      and knocked at the door. He stood back, as if the Provincial were in the
+      habit of keeping knockers waiting. Such was, at all events, the case now,
+      and some minutes elapsed before a clear, low voice bade him enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk opened the door and stood back against the wall for Christian to
+      pass in. The Provincial was seated at the table near the window, which was
+      open, the afternoon being sultry although the autumn was nearly over. At
+      his left hand stood the small Venetian mirror which enabled him to see who
+      was behind him without turning round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly, with
+      one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the
+      left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be good enough&mdash;Mr. Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and
+      fixed them upon the Englishman's face. The action was slightly dramatic,
+      but very effective, and clearly showed that he was accustomed to find the
+      eyes of others quail before his. Christian met the gaze with a calmness
+      more difficult to meet than open defiance. After a moment they turned away
+      simultaneously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need scarcely,&rdquo; said the Provincial, with singular sweetness of manner,
+      which, however, was quite devoid of servility, &ldquo;apologise to you,
+      Monsieur, for speaking in French, as it is almost your native language.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian bowed, at the same time edging somewhat nearer to the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are one or two matters,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, speaking faster,
+      &ldquo;upon which I have been instructed to treat with you; but first I must
+      congratulate you upon your restoration to health. Your illness has been
+      very serious... I trust that you have had nothing to complain of... in the
+      treatment which you have received at our hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, while sitting quite motionless, was making an exhaustive survey
+      of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; he said, in a conventional tone which, in comparison to
+      his companion's manner, was almost brutal, &ldquo;it is probably owing to the
+      care of the sub-prior that I am alive at the present moment, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped suddenly; an almost imperceptible motion of the Jesuit's
+      straight eyebrows warned him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And...?&rdquo; repeated the Provincial, interrogatively. He leant back in his
+      chair with an obvious air of interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am very grateful&mdash;&mdash;to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reverend father is a great doctor,&rdquo; said the Jesuit lightly. &ldquo;Excuse
+      me,&rdquo; he continued, rising and leaning across the table, &ldquo;I will close the
+      window; the air from the river begins to grow cool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The journalist moved slightly, looking over his shoulder towards the
+      window; at the same moment he altered, with his elbow, the position of the
+      small mirror standing upon the table. Instead of reflecting the whole
+      room, including the door at the end, it now reproduced the blank wall at
+      the side opposed to the curtained recess where the bed was placed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, &ldquo;I must
+      beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual
+      frankness, and&mdash;and it seems to me that a certain allowance for
+      respective circumstances can well be demanded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became absorbed
+      for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From your pen,&rdquo; he then said, in a businesslike monotone, &ldquo;there has
+      emanated a serious and hitherto unproved charge against the Holy Society
+      of Jesus. It came at a critical moment in the political strife then raging
+      in France; and, in proportion to the attention it attracted, harm and
+      calumny accrued to the Society. I am told that your motives were purely
+      patriotic, and your desire was nothing beyond a most laudable one of
+      keeping your countrymen out of difficulties. Before I had the pleasure of
+      seeing you I said, 'This is a young journalist who, at any expense, and
+      even at the sacrifice of truth, wishes to make a name in the world and
+      force himself into public attention.' Since then I have withdrawn that
+      opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During these remarks the Provincial had not raised his eyes from the
+      table. He now leant back in the chair and contemplated his own clasped
+      hands. Christian had listened attentively. His long, grave face was turned
+      slightly towards the Provincial, and his eyes were perhaps a little softer
+      in their gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I endeavoured,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;some weeks ago, to explain my position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit inclined his head. Then he raised his long white finger to his
+      upper lip, stroking the blue skin pensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he raised his eyes to the Englishman's face, and in their
+      velvety depths Christian thought he detected an expression which was
+      almost pleading. It seemed to express a desire for help, for some slight
+      assistance in the performance of a difficult task. He never again looked
+      into those eyes in all his life, but the remembrance of them remained in
+      his heart for many years after the surrounding incidents had passed away
+      from memory and interest. He knew that the Soul looking forth from that
+      pale and heartless face was of no ordinary mould or strength. In later
+      years, when they were both grey-haired men whose Yea or No was of some
+      weight in the world&mdash;one speaking with the great and open voice of
+      the Press, the other working subtly, dumbly, secretly&mdash;their motives
+      may have clashed once more, their souls may have met and touched, as it
+      were, over the heads of the People, but they never looked into each
+      other's eyes again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial moved uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a most unfortunate business,&rdquo; he said gently, and after a
+      pause continued more rapidly, with his eyes upon the book. &ldquo;I am
+      instructed to lay before you the apologies of the Society for the
+      inconvenience to which you have been put. Your own sense of justice will
+      tell you that we were bound to defend ourselves in every way. You have
+      done us a great injury, and, as is our custom, we have contradicted
+      nothing. The Society of Jesus does not defend itself in the vain hope of
+      receiving justice at the hands of men. I am now in a position to inform
+      you again that you are at liberty&mdash;free to go where you will, when
+      you will&mdash;and that any sum you may require is at your disposal to
+      convey you home to England ... on your signing a promise never to write
+      another word for private or public circulation on the subject of the Holy
+      Order of Jesus, or to dictate to the writing of another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must refuse,&rdquo; said Christian laconically, almost before the words had
+      left the Jesuit's lips. &ldquo;As I explained before, I am simply a public
+      servant; what I happen to know must ever be at the public disposal or I am
+      useless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A short silence followed this remark. When at length the Provincial spoke
+      his tone was cold and reserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I expected a refusal&mdash;at first. I am
+      instructed to ask you to reconsider your refusal and to oblige me, at the
+      end of a week, with the result of your meditations. If it remains a
+      refusal, another week will be accorded, and so on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit closed the book upon the table in front of him and with great
+      care altered its position so that it lay quite squarely. He raised his
+      eyebrows slightly and glanced sideways towards the Englishman. At that
+      moment the bell began summoning the devotees to their evening meal, its
+      deep tone vibrating weirdly through the bare corridors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until you accept,&rdquo; suggested he softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked at him speculatively. The faintest suspicion of a smile
+      hovered for a moment in his eyes, and then he turned and looked out of the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope, Monsieur,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, &ldquo;that when I have the pleasure
+      of seeing you&mdash;a week hence&mdash;your health will be quite
+      re-established!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in the meantime I shall feel honoured by your asking for anything you
+      may require.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo; answered Christian again. He was still looking over his
+      shoulder, down at the brown river which ran immediately below the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please excuse my rising to open the door for you,&rdquo; said the Provincial,
+      with cool audacity, &ldquo;but I have a few words to write before joining our
+      brethren at their evening repast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian turned and looked at him vaguely. There was a peculiar gleam in
+      his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. Then he rose and, as he passed the
+      Jesuit, bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his grave salutation. He
+      walked quickly down the length of the room, which was not carpeted, and
+      opened the door, closing it again with some noise immediately. But he
+      never crossed the threshold. To the man sitting at the table it was as if
+      the Englishman had left the room, closing the door after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the Provincial glanced at the mirror, from mere habit, and found
+      that it was displaced. He re-arranged it thoughtfully, so that the entire
+      room was included in its field of reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said aloud, &ldquo;when and why he did that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he returned to his writing. In a few minutes, however, he rose and
+      pushed back his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back he stood and
+      gazed fixedly out of the window. Beneath him the brown water glided past
+      with curling eddy and gleaming ripple, while its soft murmur was the only
+      sound that broke the pathetic silence surrounding this lonely man. His
+      small and perfectly formed face was quite expressionless; the curve of his
+      thin lips meant nothing; all the suppressed vitality of his being lay in
+      those deep, soft eyes over which there seemed to be a veil. Presently he
+      turned, and with lithe, smooth steps passed down the long room and out of
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly Christian Vellacott came from his hiding-place within the
+      recess. He ran to the window and opened it noiselessly. A moment later he
+      was standing upon the stone sill. The afternoon sun shone full upon his
+      face as he stood there, and showed a deep red flush on either cheek.
+      Slowly he stooped forward, holding with one hand to the woodwork of the
+      window while he examined critically the surface of the water. Suddenly he
+      threw his arms forward and like a black shadow dived noiselessly, passing
+      into the depth without a splash. When he rose to the surface he turned to
+      look at the monastery. The Provincial's window was the only outlet
+      directly on to the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stream was rapid, and after swimming with it for a short time he left
+      the water and lay down to recover his breath under the friendly cover of
+      some bushes. There he remained for some time, while the short October
+      twilight closed over the land. A man just dragged from the jaws of death,
+      he lay in his wet clothes where he first found shelter without even
+      troubling to move his limbs from the pools of water slowly accumulating.
+      Already the monastery was a thing of the past. With the rapid forethought
+      of his generation he was already looking to the future. He knew too well
+      the spirit of the people in France to fear pursuit. The monks never
+      ventured beyond their own walls except on ostentatious missions of
+      charity. The machinations of the Society of Jesus were less to be feared
+      in France than in England, and he had only to take his story to the
+      nearest sub-prefecture to raise a storm of popular opinion in his favour.
+      But this was not his project. With him, as in all human plans, his own
+      personal feelings came before the possible duty he owed to the public. He
+      lay beneath the bramble undergrowth, and speculated as to what might have
+      taken place subsequent to his disappearance. At that moment the fortunes
+      of the <i>Beacon</i> gave him no food for thought. What Mr. Bodery and his
+      subordinate might, or might not, think found no interest in his mind. All
+      his speculations were confined to events at St. Mary Western, and the
+      outcome of his meditations was that when the friendly cover of darkness
+      lay on the land he rose and started to walk briskly across the well-tilled
+      country towards the north.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That portion of Brittany which lies along the northern coast is a pastoral
+      land where sleep occupies the larger half of man's life. Although it was
+      only evening, an hour when Paris and London recover, as it were, from the
+      previous night's vigil and brighten up into vigour, the solitary
+      Englishman passed unheeded through the squalid villages, unmolested along
+      the winding roads. Mile after mile of scanty forest land and rich meadow
+      were left behind, while, except for a few heavily-breathing cattle, he met
+      no sign of life. At last he came upon a broader road which bore
+      unmistakable signs of military workmanship in its construction, and here
+      he met, and passed with laconic greeting, a few peasant women returning
+      with empty baskets from some neighbouring market; or perhaps a
+      &ldquo;cantonnier&rdquo; here and there, plodding home with &ldquo;sabots&rdquo; swinging heavily
+      and round shoulders bent beneath the burden of his weighty stone-breaking
+      implements.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Following the direction of this road his course was now towards the
+      north-east, with more tendency to the eastward than he desired, but there
+      was no choice. About eight o'clock he passed through a small village,
+      which appeared to be already wrapped in stupid slumber such as attends the
+      peasant's pillow. A cock crowed loudly, and in reply a dog barked with
+      some alarm, but Christian was already beyond the village upon the deserted
+      high road again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He now began to feel the weakening effect of his illness; his legs became
+      cramped, and he frequently rested at the roadside. The highway was running
+      still more to the eastward now, and Christian was just beginning to
+      consider the advisability of taking to the country again, when it joined a
+      broader road cut east and west. Here he stopped short, and, raising his
+      head, stood quite still for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;The sea. I smell the sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He now turned to the left, and advanced along the newly-discovered road
+      towards the west. As he progressed the pungent odour of seaweed refreshed
+      him and grew stronger every moment. Suddenly he became aware that although
+      high land lay upon his left hand there was to his right a hollow darkness
+      without shadow or depth. No merry plash of waves came to explain this; the
+      smell of the sea was there, but the joyous tumble of its waters was not to
+      be heard. The traveller stooped low and peered into the darkness.
+      Gradually he discerned a distant line of horizon, and to that point there
+      seemed to stretch a vast dead sheet of water without light or motion. Upon
+      his ears there stole a soft bubbling sound, varied occasionally by a tiny
+      ripple. Suddenly a flash of recollection appeared to pass through the
+      watcher's mind, and he muttered an exclamation of surprise as he turned
+      towards the east and endeavoured to pierce the gloom. He was right. Upon
+      the distant line of horizon a jagged outline cut the sky. It was like the
+      form of a huge tooth jutting out from the softer earth. Such is Mont St.
+      Michel standing grandly alone in the midst of a shallow, sullen sea. The
+      only firm thing among the quaking sands, the only stone for miles around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Bay of Cancale!&rdquo; reflected Christian. &ldquo;If I keep to the westward I
+      shall reach St. Mâlo before ten o'clock!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he set off with renewed vigour. From his feet there stretched away to
+      the north a great dead level of quicksand, seething, bubbling, and heaving
+      in the darkness. The sea, and yet no sea. Neither honest land nor rolling
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Silas Lebrun, captain and part-owner of the brig <i>Agnes and Mary</i> of
+      Jersey, was an early riser. Moreover, the old gentleman entertained
+      peculiar views as to the homage due to Morpheus. He made no elaborate
+      toilet before entering the presence of that most lovable god. Indeed he
+      always slept in his boots, and the cabin-boy had on several occasions
+      invited the forecastle hands to believe that he neither removed the
+      ancient sealskin cap from his head nor the wooden pipe from his lips when
+      slumber soothed his senses; but this statement was always set aside as
+      unauthenticated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In person the ancient sailor was almost square, with short legs and a body
+      worthy of promotion to something higher. His face was wrinkled and brown,
+      like the exterior of that incomprehensible fruit the medlar, which is
+      never ripe till it is bad, and then it is to be avoided. A yellow-grey
+      beard clustered closely round a short chin, and when perchance the
+      sealskin cap was absent yellow-grey hair of a similar hue completed the
+      circle, standing up as high from his brow as fell the beard downward from
+      his chin. A pair of intensely blue eyes, liquid always with the milk of
+      human kindness, rendered the hirsute medlar a pleasant thing to look at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The <i>Agnes and Mary</i> was ready for sea, her cargo of potatoes, with a
+      little light weight in the way of French beans and eggs, comfortably
+      stowed, and as Captain Lebrun emerged from what he was pleased to call his
+      &ldquo;state-room&rdquo; with the first breath of a clear morning he performed his
+      matinal toilet with a certain sense of satisfaction. This operation was
+      simple, consisting merely in the passage of four very brown fingers
+      through the yellow-grey hair, and a hurried dispersal of the tobacco ash
+      secreted in his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first object that met the mariner's astonished gaze was the long black
+      form of a man stretched comfortably upon the cabin locker. The green mud
+      adhering to the sleeper's thin shoes showed that he had climbed on board
+      at low tide when the harbour was dry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun gazed meditatively at the intruder for some moments. Then
+      he produced a powerfully-scented pipe of venerable appearance, which had
+      been, at various stages of its existence, bound in a seaman-like manner
+      with pieces of tarred yarn. He slowly filled this object, and proceeded to
+      inform it in a husky voice that he was &ldquo;blowed.&rdquo; The pipe was, apparently,
+      in a similar condition, as it refused absolutely to answer to the powerful
+      suction applied to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then seated himself with some difficulty upon the corner of the low
+      table, and examined the sleeper critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor devil,&rdquo; he again said, addressing himself to his pipe. &ldquo;He's one of
+      them priest fellows.&mdash;Hi, mister!&rdquo; he observed, raising his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott woke up at once, and took in the situation without
+      delay. He was not of those who must go through terrible contortions before
+      regaining their senses after sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Captain!&rdquo; he observed pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;yourn't a parlee voo, then!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm an Englishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed. Then you'll excuse me, but what in the name of glory are you
+      doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian sat up and looked at his muddy shoes with some interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the truth is that I am bolting. I want to get across to England. I
+      saw where you hailed from by your rig, and clambered on board last night.
+      It seemed to me that when an Englishman is in a hole he cannot do better
+      than go to a fellow-countryman for help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun made a mighty effort to force a passage through his pipe,
+      and was rewarded by a very high-pitched squeak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay!&rdquo; he said doubtfully. &ldquo;But what sort of hole is it? Nothing dirty, I'm
+      hopin'. Who are yer? Why are ye runnin' away, and who are ye runnin'
+      from?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Though a trifle blunt the sailor's manner was not unfriendly, and
+      Christian laughed before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to tell you the whole story would take a long time. You
+      remember perhaps there was a row, about two months ago, respecting some
+      English rifles found in Paris?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I remember that; we had a lot o' trouble with the Customs just
+      then. The thing was ferreted out by a young newspaper fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian rubbed his hands slowly together. He was terribly anxious to
+      hear the sequel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am that newspaper fellow,&rdquo; he said, with a quick smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun slowly stood up. He contemplated his pipe thoughtfully,
+      then laying it upon the table he turned solemnly towards Christian, and
+      held out a broad brown hand which was covered with scales in lieu of skin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shake hands, mister?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obliged him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he said quickly, &ldquo;I want to know what has happened since&mdash;since
+      I left England. Has there been a great row? Has ... has anybody wondered
+      where I was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old sailor may have had his suspicions. He may have guessed that
+      Christian Vellacott had not left England at the dictates of his own free
+      will, for he looked at him very kindly with his liquid blue eyes, and
+      replied slowly:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't say that <i>nobody</i> hasn't been wonderin' where ye was, but&mdash;but
+      there's been nothing in the papers!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all right! And now will you give me a passage, Captain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Course I will! We sail about eleven this morning. I'm loaded and cleared
+      out. But I should like you to have a change o' clothes. Can't bear to see
+      ye in them black things. It makes me feel as if I was talkin' to a
+      priest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like nothing better,&rdquo; replied Christian, as he rose and
+      contemplated his own person reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come into my state-room then. I've got a few things of my own, and a bit
+      of a slop-chest: jerseys and things as I sell to the men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Captain's wardrobe was of a marine character and somewhat rough in
+      texture. He had, however, a coat and waistcoat of thick blue pilot-cloth
+      which fitted Christian remarkably well, but the continuations thereof were
+      so absurdly out of keeping with the young fellow's long limbs as to
+      precipitate the skipper on to the verge of apoplexy. When he recovered,
+      and his pipe was re-lighted, he left the cabin and went forward to borrow
+      a pair of the required articles from Tom Slake, an ordinary seaman of tall
+      and slim proportions. In a short time Christian Vellacott bore the outward
+      semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar, except that his
+      cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was promptly commented
+      upon by the blunt old sailor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Secrecy was absolutely necessary, so Tom, of the long legs, was the only
+      person to whom Christian's presence was made known; and he it was who (in
+      view of a possible berth as steward later on) was entrusted with the
+      simple culinary duties of the vessel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity. A long shiny
+      loaf of yesterday's bread, some butter in a saucer&mdash;which vessel was
+      deemed entirely superfluous in connection with cups&mdash;brown sugar in
+      an old mustard-tin, with portions of yellow paper adhering to it, and
+      solid slices of bacon brought from the galley in their native frying-pan.
+      Such slight drawbacks, however, as there might have been in the matter of
+      table-ware disappeared before the sense of kindly hospitality with which
+      Captain Lebrun poured the tea into a cracked cup and a borrowed pannikin,
+      dropping in the sugar with careful judgment from his brown fingers. Such
+      defects as there might have lurked in the culinary art as carried on in
+      the galley vanished before the friendly solicitude with which Tom tilted
+      the frying-pan to pour into Christian's plate a bright flow of bacon-fat
+      cunningly mingled with cinders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the meal had been duly despatched Captain Lebrun produced his pipe
+      and proceeded to fill it, after having extracted from its inward parts the
+      usual high-toned squeak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian leant back against the bulkhead with his hands buried deeply in
+      Tom's borrowed pockets. He felt much more at home in pilot cloth than in
+      cashmere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is one more thing I should like to borrow,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay?&rdquo; repeated the captain interrogatively, as he searched in his
+      waistcoat-pocket for a match.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A pipe. I have not had a smoke for two months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Captain struck a light upon his leg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got one somewhere,&rdquo; he replied reassuringly; &ldquo;carried it for many
+      years now, just in case this one fell overboard or got broke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tom, who happened to be present, smiled audibly behind a hand which was
+      hardly a recommendation for the coveted berth of steward, but Christian
+      looked at the battered pipe with sympathetic gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At ten o'clock the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> warped out of harbour and dropped
+      lazily down the Rance, setting sail as she went. Christian had spent most
+      of the morning in the little cabin smoking Captain Lebrun's reserve pipe,
+      and seeking to establish order among the accounts of the ship. The
+      accounts were the <i>bête noire</i> of the old sailor's existence. Upon
+      his own confession he &ldquo;wasn't no arithmetician,&rdquo; and Christian found, upon
+      inspecting his accounts, no cause to contradict this ambiguous statement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> was clear of the harbour he went on deck,
+      where activity and maritime language reigned supreme. The channel was
+      narrow and the wind light, consequently the little brig drifted more or
+      less at her own sweet will. This would have been well enough had the
+      waterway been clear of other vessels, but the Jersey steamer was coming
+      in, with her yellow funnel gleaming in the sunlight, her mail-flag
+      fluttering at her foremast, and her captain swearing on the bridge, with
+      the whistle-pull in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing that the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> had no steerage way, the captain
+      stopped his engines for a few minutes, and then went ahead again at
+      half-speed. This brought the vessels close together, and, as is the
+      invariable custom in such circumstances, the two crews stared stonily at
+      each other. On the deck were one or two passengers enjoying the morning
+      air after a cramped and uncomfortable night. Among these was an old man
+      with a singularly benign expression; he was standing near the after-wheel,
+      gazing with senile placidity towards St. Mâlo. As the vessels neared each
+      other, however, he walked towards the rail, and stood there with a
+      pleasant smile upon his face, as if ready to exchange a greeting with any
+      kindred soul upon the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old
+      man and watched him with some interest&mdash;not, however, altering his
+      position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in due
+      course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme stern
+      of his ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the young journalist removed Captain Lebrun's spare pipe from his
+      lips, and leaning sideways over the water, called out:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Signor Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman was
+      peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared at
+      the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden access
+      of fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from
+      beneath his smooth white brows. &ldquo;Ah! it is you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the
+      little strip of water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat.
+      He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught in the
+      lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his face. A dull
+      red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed ruddily, as if shot
+      with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with his breast against
+      the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the two ships passed
+      away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the clean deck,
+      grasping a pistol in his right hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and smiling
+      reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers crowd round
+      him, but the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> had now caught the breeze and was
+      moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the water in
+      little golden bars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apperlexy!&rdquo; said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found
+      Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer.
+      &ldquo;Apperlexy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; asked Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; was the reply, given with some conviction. &ldquo;I seen a man fall just
+      like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a moment of
+      excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once. Apperlexy they
+      said it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?&rdquo; said Christian
+      absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, it did,&rdquo; said the captain. &ldquo;Ye seemed to know him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. &ldquo;I have met
+      him twice,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;He was in England for some years, I believe;
+      a political refugee, he called himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive attention
+      to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well or ill,
+      according to their fancy. He knew that Christian Vellacott wished to tell
+      him no more, and he was content that it should be so, but he had noticed a
+      circumstance which, from the young journalist's position, was probably
+      invisible. He turned to give an order to the man at the wheel, and then
+      walked slowly and with some difficulty (for Captain Lebrun suffered, in a
+      quiet way, agonies from rheumatism) back towards his passenger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seemed to me,&rdquo; he said reflectively, as he looked upwards to see if the
+      foretopsail was shivering, &ldquo;as if he had something in his hand when a'
+      fell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian followed the Captain's gaze. The sails were now filling well,
+      and there was an exhilarating sound of straining cordage in the air while
+      the vessel glided on. The young journalist was not an impressionable man,
+      but he felt all these things. The sense of open freedom, the gentle rise
+      and fall of the vessel, the whirring breeze, and the distant line of high
+      land up the Rance towards Dinant&mdash;all these were surely worth
+      hearing, feeling, and seeing; assuredly, they added to the joy of living.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something in his hand,&rdquo; he repeated gravely; &ldquo;what was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun turned sideways towards the steersman, and made a little
+      gesture with his left hand. A wrinkle had appeared in one corner of the
+      foretopsail. Then he looked round the horizon with a sailor's far-seeing
+      gaze, before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seemed to me,&rdquo; he mumbled, without taking his pipe from his lips, &ldquo;that
+      it was a revolver.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the two men smoked in silence for some time. The little vessel moved
+      steadily out towards the blue water, passing a lighthouse built upon a
+      solitary rock, and later a lightship, with its clean red hull gleaming in
+      the sunlight as it rose and fell lazily. So close were they to the latter
+      that the man watching on deck waved his hand in salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Vellacott had vouchsafed no reply to Captain Lebrun's strange
+      statement. He sat on the low rail, swinging one leg monotonously, while
+      the square little sailor stood at his side with that patient maritime
+      reflectiveness which is being slowly killed by the quicker ways of steam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My calling brings me into contact with a rum lot of people,&rdquo; said the
+      young fellow at last, &ldquo;and I suppose all of us make enemies without
+      knowing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this vague elucidation the little skipper was forced to content
+      himself. He gave a grunt of acquiescence, and walked forward to
+      superintend the catheading of the anchor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      One would almost have said that the good citizen Jacquetot was restless
+      and disturbed. It was not that the little tobacco shop left aught to be
+      desired in the way of order, neither had the tobacconist quitted his seat
+      at the window-end of the counter. But he was not smoking, and at short
+      intervals he drew aside the little red curtain and looked out into the
+      quiet Rue St. Gingolphe with a certain eagerness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually
+      waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of
+      September in a year which it is not expedient to name, he seemed to be
+      looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by
+      surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast forehead
+      at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a snuff-taker
+      have recourse to that solace more frequently when he is agitated than when
+      a warm calm reigns within his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So quiet&mdash;so quiet,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;in our little street&mdash;and in
+      the others&mdash;who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters
+      lowered there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter of an
+      occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal of the <i>Petit Journal</i>.
+      Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply and drew aside
+      the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The footsteps were hurried
+      and yet hesitating&mdash;the gait of a person not knowing his whereabouts.
+      And yet the man who entered the shop a moment later was evidently the same
+      who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when last we met him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the tobacconist. &ldquo;It is you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the other. &ldquo;It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot&mdash;I
+      think you call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, yes!&rdquo; exclaimed the fat man in amazement. &ldquo;You are that citizen, and
+      you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer was looking round him curiously; he stepped towards the
+      curtained door, and turned the handle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is
+      this the room? Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and get a mattress. Bring it and lay it on this
+      table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jacquetot rose laboriously from his seat. He knew now that this was not
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke
+      with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be obeyed.
+      He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People. The Vicomte
+      d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different people&mdash;this
+      man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders without heeding the
+      reception of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small
+      door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving the
+      new-comer alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the Rue
+      St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man passed
+      through the little curtained doorway into the room at the back of the
+      shop, closing the door after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite
+      still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door
+      when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it behind
+      him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood
+      looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in height
+      and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird and
+      unpleasant in their action&mdash;in their silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the last comer. &ldquo;It is thou. I almost fired!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why have you done this?&rdquo; continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. &ldquo;I thought we
+      agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us both
+      without meeting, if we exercised a little care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is dead,&rdquo; replied the brother. &ldquo;She died two years ago&mdash;the wife
+      of Prangius&mdash;what does it matter now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that&mdash;but why did you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade,
+      and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast; the
+      light of the gas flickered, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my chest,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I am simply dripping with blood. It has
+      trickled down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first&mdash;and then very
+      cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety eyes there
+      passed that strange contraction which has been noted in the glance of the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sent for a mattress,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That bullet must come out. A
+      doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of your Jesuits?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;one of my Jesuits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced. He staggered a little, and
+      clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you not sit down?&rdquo; he suggested coldly. &ldquo;There are none of your&mdash;<i>People</i>&mdash;here
+      to be impressed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Vicomte smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said smoothly, &ldquo;we work on different lines, do we not? I wonder
+      which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two&mdash;the two
+      fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third&mdash;a
+      dolt. Thus are they made&mdash;these women!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said the Jesuit, &ldquo;you have not forgotten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids were heavy,
+      requiring an effort to lift them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not like to hear the rooks call&mdash;that is all,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed to
+      overcome Christian Vellacott's quiet defiance&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It makes one remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke&mdash;sharply and
+      suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, you fool!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You are fainting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the
+      tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure gleaming whitely
+      amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table. Then
+      the two men, the Provincial and the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe,
+      lifted the wounded aristocrat gently and placed him upon the improvised
+      bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no sound of agony,
+      but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's blouse in which he was
+      disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the doctor arrived. He was quite a
+      young man, with shifting grey eyes, and he saluted the Provincial with a
+      nervous obsequity which was unpleasant to look upon. The deftness with
+      which he completed the task of laying bare the wound was notable. His
+      fingers were too clever to be quite honest. When, however, he was face to
+      face with the little blue-rimmed orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's
+      muscular chest, the expression of his face&mdash;indeed his whole manner&mdash;changed.
+      His eyes lost their shiftiness&mdash;he seemed to forget the presence of
+      the great man standing at the other side of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne opened his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the doctor, noting this at once. &ldquo;You got this on the
+      Boulevard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get here?&rdquo; He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cab.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who carried you into this room?&rdquo; asked the doctor, returning to his case
+      of instruments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one! I walked.&rdquo; The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently
+      aggravated his patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the
+      Vicomte.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In order to avoid attracting attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was
+      instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again
+      the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that
+      of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He
+      said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar restraint to his
+      preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the
+      persistent gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will Monsieur take chloroform,&rdquo; he asked, unfolding a clean
+      pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;I beg of you&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not necessary,&rdquo; persisted the Vicomte calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little
+      movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible
+      elevation of the eyebrows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered
+      bottle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the doctor muttered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you will!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress&mdash;the gas was turned
+      up as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a
+      moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning
+      towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quick as thought, he suddenly darted forward and pressed the clean
+      handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte d'Audierne
+      gave a little smothered exclamation of rage, and raised his arms; but the
+      Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the mattress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay
+      unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn back in anger, so that
+      the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is possible,&rdquo; said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, &ldquo;that
+      Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a cat over its prey, the young doctor leant across the mattress.
+      Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the
+      order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless
+      movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous&mdash;neat,
+      rapid, and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed
+      beneath the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on
+      his shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red
+      stripes there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the lapse of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he
+      held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the bullet, my father,&rdquo; he said, without ceasing his occupation,
+      and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will he live?&rdquo; asked the Jesuit casually, while he examined the bullet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he tries, my father,&rdquo; was the meaning reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young doctor was bandaging now, skilfully and rapidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This would be the death of a dog,&rdquo; said the Provincial, as if musing
+      aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had
+      withdrawn some time before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better than the life of a dog,&rdquo; replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly
+      mocking way, without opening his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the
+      entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they
+      would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are like
+      a strong spirit&mdash;light and yet potent&mdash;that floats upon the top
+      of all other liquids and will mingle with none.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without
+      quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly
+      observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never was
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical, so sceptical, as in the presence of his
+      brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so Jesuitical,
+      as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far apart
+      now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      had hurried away from the deserted shore of the Côte du Nord, leaving his
+      brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit in his neck. That slit had
+      healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in both their
+      hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he said
+      that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the world who
+      could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to test his
+      authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose of seeing
+      his brother&mdash;senior by an hour. There were many things of which he
+      wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a more recent
+      date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott&mdash;one of the few men
+      who had succeeded in outwitting him&mdash;of Signor Bruno, or Max Talma,
+      who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a sudden,
+      voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at the sight
+      of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is full
+      of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that wonderful <i>inner</i>
+      history of France which is the most romantic story of human kind. And so
+      Raoul d'Audierne&mdash;the man whose power in the world is like that of
+      the fires burning within the crust of the earth, unseen, immeasurable&mdash;and
+      so he took his hat, and left the little room behind the tobacconist's shop
+      in the Rue St. Gingolphe&mdash;beaten, frustrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money,&rdquo; Captain Lebrun was saying emphatically, as the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>
+      drifted slowly past Gravesend pier on the rising tide. &ldquo;Hang money! Now, I
+      should think that you make as much of it in a month as I do in a year.
+      You're a young man, and as far as I know ye, ye're a successful one. Life
+      spreads out before you like a clean chart. I'm an old 'un&mdash;my time is
+      nearly up. I've lived what landsmen call a hard life, and now I'm slowly
+      goin' home. Ay, Mr. Vellacott, goin' home! And you think that with all
+      your manifold advantages you're a happier man than me. Not a bit of it!
+      And why? 'Cause you belong to a generation that looks so far ahead that
+      it's afraid of bein' happy, just for fear there's sorrow a comin'. Money,
+      and lookin' ahead, that's what spoils yer lives nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The skipper emphasised these weighty observations by expectorating
+      decisively into the water, and walked away, leaving Christian Vellacott
+      with a vaguely amused smile upon his face. It is just possible that Silas
+      Lebrun, master and owner of the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>, was nearer the mark
+      than he thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later, Vellacott was walking along the deserted embankment above
+      Westminster, on the Chelsea side of the river. It was nine o'clock, for
+      which fact Big Ben solemnly gave his word, far up in the fog. The morning
+      was very dark, and the street lamps were still alight, while every window
+      sent forth a gleam suggestive of early autumnal fires.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning up his own street he increased his pace, realising suddenly that
+      he had not been within his own doors for more than four months. Much might
+      have happened in that time&mdash;to change his life, perhaps. As he
+      approached the house he saw a strange servant, an elderly woman, on her
+      knees at the steps, and somehow the sight conveyed to his mind the thought
+      that there was something waiting for him within that peaceful little
+      house. He almost ran those last few yards, and sprang up the steps past
+      the astonished woman without a word of explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gas in the narrow entrance-hall was lighted, and as he threw aside his
+      cap he perceived a warm gleam of firelight through the half-open door of
+      the dining-room. He crossed the carpeted hall, and pushed open that door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near the little breakfast-table, just under the gas, stood Hilda Carew. In
+      <i>his</i> room, standing among <i>his</i> multifarious possessions, in
+      the act of pouring from <i>his</i> coffee-pot. She was dressed in black&mdash;he
+      noticed that. Instead of being arranged high upon her head, her marvellous
+      hair hung in one massive plait down her back. She looked like a tall and
+      beautiful school-girl. He had not seen her hair like that since the old
+      days when he had been as one of the Carews.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he pushed open the door, she looked up; and for a moment they stood
+      thus. She set down the coffee-pot, carefully and symmetrically, in the
+      centre of the china stand provided for its reception&mdash;and the colour
+      slowly left her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have come back at last!&rdquo; she said quite monotonously. It sounded like
+      a remark made for the purpose of filling up an awkward silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he entered the room, and mechanically closed the door behind him. She
+      noticed the action, but did not move. He passed round the table, behind
+      Aunt Judy's chair, and they shook hands conventionally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said almost breathlessly; &ldquo;I am back; you do not seem elated by
+      the fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly she smiled&mdash;the smile that suggested, in some subtle way, a
+      kitten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course&mdash;I am glad ... to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a peculiar dreamy way she began to add milk to the coffee. It seemed as
+      if this were mere play-acting, and not real life at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is it that you are here?&rdquo; he asked, with a broken, disjointed laugh.
+      &ldquo;You cannot imagine how strange an effect it was ... for me ... to come in
+      and see you ... here&mdash;of all people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him gravely, and moved a step towards him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Judy is dead!&rdquo; she explained; &ldquo;and Aunt Hester is very ill. Mother
+      is upstairs with them&mdash;<i>her</i>&mdash;now. I have just come from
+      the room, where I have been since midnight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped, raised her hand to her hair as if recollecting something, and
+      stood looking sideways out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is something about you this morning,&rdquo; he said, with a concentrated
+      deliberation, &ldquo;that brings back the old Prague days. I suppose it is that
+      I have not seen your hair as you have it to-day&mdash;since then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned quite away from his hungry gaze, looking out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause she broke the silence&mdash;with infinite tact&mdash;not
+      speaking too hurriedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a terrible week,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Mother heard from Mr. Bodery
+      that they were very ill; so we came. I never dreamt that it was so bad
+      when you spoke of them. Five years it has been going on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; five years. Thank you for coming, but I am sorry you should have
+      seen it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one should keep guard over his own skeleton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was looking at him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look very ill,&rdquo; she said curtly. &ldquo;Where have you been?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was kidnapped,&rdquo; he said, with a short laugh, &ldquo;and then I got typhoid.
+      The monks nursed me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were in a monastery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; in Brittany.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was idly arranging the cups and saucers with her left hand, which she
+      seemed desirous of bringing under his notice; but he could look at nothing
+      but her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it would have been impossible to find you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; he replied, and after a pause he added, in a singularly easy
+      manner, &ldquo;Tell me what happened after I disappeared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not seem to like the task.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;we searched&mdash;oh! Christian, it was horrid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wondered,&rdquo; he said, in a deep, soft voice, &ldquo;whether you would find it
+      so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course, we <i>all</i> did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This did not appear to satisfy him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you,&rdquo; he persisted, &ldquo;you, yourself&mdash;what did you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; she answered, with painful hesitation. &ldquo;I don't think I
+      thought at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what did you do, Hilda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;oh, we searched. We telegraphed for Mr. Bodery, who came down at
+      once. Then Fred rode over, and placed himself at Mr. Bodery's disposal.
+      First he went to Paris, then to Brest. He did everything that could be
+      done, but of course it was of no avail. By Mr. Bodery's advice everything
+      was kept secret. There was nothing in the newspapers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped suddenly, and there was a silence in the room. He was looking
+      at her curiously, still ignoring that little left hand. Only one word of
+      her speech seemed to have attached itself to his understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fred?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Fred Farrar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;my husband!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away&mdash;walked towards the door, and then returned to the
+      hearthrug, where he stood quite still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it was a quiet wedding,&rdquo; he said in a hard voice, &ldquo;on my
+      account; eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she whispered. He waited, but she added nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then suddenly he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made a most extraordinary mistake!&rdquo; he said, and again laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He came nearer to her&mdash;quite near, until his sleeve almost touched
+      her bowed head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought&mdash;at St. Mary Western&mdash;that you loved <i>me</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed to shrink away from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made me think so, Hilda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head, and her eyes flashed one momentary appeal for mercy&mdash;like
+      the eyes of a whipped dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he said sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;because <i>I</i> thought so myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he was so kind, so <i>brave</i>, Christian&mdash;because he knew of
+      my mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, after a pause, &ldquo;so long as you do not suffer by it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;h,&rdquo; she gasped, as if he were whipping her. She did not quite
+      know what he meant. She does not know now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he spoke again, slowly, deliberately, and without emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when you are older, when you have more experience of
+      the world, you will probably fall into the habit of thanking God, in your
+      prayers, that I am what I am. It is not because I am good ... perhaps it
+      is because I am ambitious&mdash;my father, you may remember, was
+      considered heartless; it may be <i>that</i>. But if I were different&mdash;if
+      I were passionate instead of being what the world calls cold and
+      calculating&mdash;you would be ... your life would be&mdash;&rdquo; he stopped,
+      and turning away he sat down wearily in Aunt Judy's armchair. &ldquo;You will
+      know some day!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is probable that she does know now. She knows, in all likelihood, that
+      her husband would have been powerless to save her from Christian Vellacott&mdash;from
+      herself&mdash;from that Love wherein there are no roses but only thorns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in the room above them Aunt Hester was dying. So wags the world. There
+      is no attention paid to the laws of dramatic effect upon the stage of
+      life. The scenes are produced without sequence, without apparent rhyme or
+      reason; and Chance, the scene-shifter, is very careless, for comedies are
+      enacted amid scenic effects calculated to show off to perfection the
+      deepest tragedy, while tragedies are spoilt by their surroundings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor and Mrs. Carew stood at the bedside, and listened to the old
+      woman's broken murmurings. Into her mind there had perhaps strayed a gleam
+      of that Light which is not on the earth, for she was not abusing her
+      great-nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Christian,&rdquo; she was murmuring, &ldquo;I wish you would come. I want to
+      thank you for your kindness, more especially to Aunt Judy. She is old, and
+      we must make allowances. I know she is aggravating. It happened long ago,
+      when your father was a little boy&mdash;but it altered her whole life. I
+      think women are like that. There is something that only comes to them
+      once. I am feeling far from well, nephew Vellacott. I think I should like
+      to see a doctor. What does Aunt Judy think? Is she asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her head to where she expected to find her sister, and in the
+      act of turning her eyes closed. She slumbered peacefully. The two sisters
+      had slept together for seventy years&mdash;seventy long, monotonous years,
+      in which there had been no incident, no great joy, no deep sorrow&mdash;years
+      lost. Except for the natural growth and slow decay of their frames, they
+      had remained stationary, while around them children had grown into men and
+      women and had passed away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Aunt Hester opened her eyes, and they rested on the vacant
+      pillow at her side. After a pause she slowly turned her head, and fixed
+      her gaze upon the doctor's face. He thought that the power of speech had
+      left her, but suddenly she spoke, quite clearly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is my sister Judith?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are times when the truth must be spoken, though it kill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sister died yesterday,&rdquo; replied the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. Her shrivelled
+      fingers were picking at the counter-pane. Then a gleam of intelligence
+      passed across her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I shall have a bed to myself. I have waited long
+      enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester was very human, although the shadow of an angel's wing lay
+      across her bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was many years later that Christian Vellacott found himself in the
+      presence of the Angel of Death again. A telegram from Havre was one day
+      handed to him in the room at the back of the tall house in the Strand, and
+      the result was that he crossed from Southampton to Havre that same night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the sun rose over the sea the next morning, its earliest rays glanced
+      gaily through the open port-hole of a cabin in a large ocean steamer,
+      still panting from her struggle through tepid Eastern seas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this little cabin lay the Jesuit missionary, René Drucquer, watching
+      the moving reflections of the water, which played ceaselessly on the
+      painted ceiling overhead. He had been sent home from India by a
+      kind-hearted army surgeon; a doomed man, stricken by a climatic disease in
+      which there was neither hope nor hurry. When the steamer arrived in the
+      Seine it was found expedient to let the young missionary die where he lay.
+      The local agent of the Society of Jesus was a kind-hearted man, and
+      therefore a faithless servant. He acceded to René Drucquer's prayer to
+      telegraph for Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered
+      the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you have come,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of
+      pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder? And hard&mdash;yes, hard
+      as steel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; replied Vellacott. &ldquo;It may be that the hardness that was once
+      there shows now upon my face&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman looked lovingly at him, with eyes like the eyes of a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now you are a great man, they tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my way,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;And you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I have taught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! and has it been a success?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In teaching I have learnt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott merely nodded his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know why I sent for you?&rdquo; continued the missionary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent for you in order to tell you that I burnt that letter at
+      Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to that conclusion, for it never arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought of it again,&rdquo; he replied heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest was looking keenly at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not say 'thou,' but '<i>you</i>,'&rdquo; he persisted gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott's glance wavered; he raised his head, and looked out of the open
+      port-hole across the glassy waters of the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said René Drucquer, &ldquo;there might be some one else&mdash;some
+      woman&mdash;who was waiting for news.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a little pause the journalist replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Abbé,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is no woman in the whole world who wants
+      news of me. And the result is, as you kindly say, I am a great man now&mdash;in
+      my way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he knew that he might have been a greater.
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Slave Of The Lamp
+
+Author: Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9195]
+This file was first posted on September 14, 2003
+Last Updated: May 5, 2013
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP ***
+
+
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+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Veronique Durand, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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+
+
+THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP
+
+By Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, "Young Mistley," in
+1888, when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his
+critique on the book, spoke of its "powerful situations" and
+unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater
+length on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right
+faults, and added that, if "Young Mistley" was not in itself a good
+novel, its author was one who might hereafter certainly write good
+novels.
+
+"Young Mistley" was followed in quick succession by "The Phantom
+Future," "Suspense," and "Prisoners and Captives." Some years later,
+considering them crude and immature works, the author, at some
+difficulty and with no little pecuniary loss, withdrew all these four
+first books from circulation in England. Their republication in America
+he was powerless to prevent. He therefore revised and abbreviated them,
+"conscious," as he said himself in a preface, "of a hundred defects
+which the most careful revision cannot eliminate." He was perhaps then,
+as he was ever, too severe a critic of his own works. But though these
+four early books have, added to youthful failings, the youthful merits
+of freshness, vigour and imagination, their author was undoubtedly right
+to suppress them. By writing them he learnt, it is true, the technique
+of his art: but no author wishes--or no author should wish--to give his
+copy-books to the world. It is as well then--it is certainly as he
+himself desired--that these four books do not form part of the present
+edition. It may, however, be noted that both "Young Mistley" and
+"Prisoners and Captives" dealt, as did "The Sowers" hereafter, with
+Russian subjects: "Suspense" is the story of a war-correspondent in the
+Russo-Turkish War of 1877: and "The Phantom Future" is the only novel of
+Merriman's in which the scene is laid entirely in his own country.
+
+In 1892 he produced "The Slave of the Lamp," which had run serially
+through the _Cornhill Magazine_, then under the editorship of Mr.
+James Payn.
+
+To Mr. Payn, Merriman always felt that he owed a debt of gratitude for
+much shrewd and kindly advice and encouragement. But one item of that
+advice he neglected with, as Mr. Payn always generously owned, great
+advantage. Mr. Payn believed that the insular nature of the ordinary
+Briton made it, as a general rule, highly undesirable that the scene of
+any novel should be laid outside the British Isles.
+
+After 1892 all Merriman's books, with the single exception of "Flotsam,"
+which appeared serially in _Longman's Magazine_, and was, at first,
+produced in book form by Messrs. Longman, were published by the firm of
+Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co.
+
+His long and serene connection with the great and honourable house which
+had produced the works of such masters of literature as Thackeray,
+Charlotte Bronte, and Robert Browning, was always a source of sincere
+pleasure to him. He often expressed the opinion that, from the moment
+when, as an inexperienced and perfectly unknown author, he sent "Young
+Mistley" to Messrs. Bentley, until the time when, as a very successful
+one, he was publishing his later novels with Messrs. Smith, Elder, he
+had invariably received from his publishers an entirely just and upright
+treatment.
+
+Also in 1892 he produced "From One Generation to Another": and, two
+years later, the first of his really successful novels, "With Edged
+Tools." It is the only one of his books of which he never visited the
+_mise-en-scene_--West Africa: but he had so completely imbued
+himself with the scenery and the spirit of the country that few, if any,
+of his critics detected that he did not write of it from personal
+experience. Many of his readers were firmly convinced of the reality of
+the precious plant, Simiacine, on whose discovery the action of the plot
+turns. More than one correspondent wrote to express a wish to take
+shares in the Simiacine Company!
+
+"With Edged Tools" was closely followed by "The Grey Lady." Some
+practical experience of a seafaring life, a strong love of it, and a
+great fellow-feeling for all those whose business is in great waters,
+helped the reality of the characters of the sailor brothers and of the
+sea-scenes generally. The author was for some years, and at the time
+"The Grey Lady" was written, an underwriter at Lloyd's, so that on the
+subject of ship insurance--a subject on which it will be remembered
+part of the plot hinges--he was _en pays de connaissance_. For the
+purpose of this story, he travelled in the Balearic Islands, having,
+earlier, made the first of many visits to Spain.
+
+One of the strongest characteristics in his nature, as it is certainly
+one of the strongest characteristics in his books, was his sympathy
+with, and, in consequence, his understanding of, the mind of the
+foreigner. For him, indeed, there were no alien countries. He learnt the
+character of the stranger as quickly as he learnt his language. His
+greatest delight was to merge himself completely in the life and
+interests of the country he was visiting--to stay at the mean
+_venta_, or the _auberge_ where the tourist was never seen--to
+sit in the local cafes of an evening and listen to local politics and
+gossip; to read for the time nothing but the native newspapers, and no
+literature but the literature, past and present, of the land where he
+was sojourning; to follow the native customs, and to see Spain, Poland
+or Russia with the eyes and from the point of view of the Spaniard, the
+Pole or the Russian.
+
+The difficulties--sometimes there were even serious difficulties--of
+visiting places where there was neither provision nor protection made
+for the stranger, always acted upon him not as deterrent but incentive:
+he liked something to overcome, and found the safe, comfortable,
+convenient resting-places as uncongenial to his nature as they were
+unproductive for the purposes of his work.
+
+In 1896 "The Sowers" was published. Merriman's travels in Russia had
+taken place some years before--before, in fact, the publication of
+"Young Mistley"--but time had not at all weakened the strong and sombre
+impression which that great country and its unhappy people had left upon
+him. The most popular of all his books with his English public, Merriman
+himself did not consider it his best. It early received the compliment
+of being banned by the Russian censor: very recently, a Russian woman
+told the present writers that "The Sowers" is still the first book the
+travelling Russian buys in the Tauchnitz edition, as soon as he is out
+of his own country--"we like to hear the truth about ourselves."
+
+In the same year as "The Sowers," Merriman produced "Flotsam." It is
+not, strictly speaking, a romance: some of its main incidents were taken
+from the life of a young officer of the 44th Regiment in Early Victorian
+days. The character of Harry Wylam is, as a whole, faithful to its
+prototype; and the last scene in the book, recording Harry's death in
+the Orange Free State, as he was being taken in a waggon to the
+missionary station by the Bishop of the State, is literally accurate.
+Merriman had visited India as a boy; so here, too, the scenery is from
+the brush of an eye-witness.
+
+His next novel, "In Kedar's Tents," was his first Spanish novel--pure
+and simple: the action of "The Grey Lady" taking place chiefly in
+Majorca.
+
+All the country mentioned in "In Kedar's Tents" Merriman visited
+personally--riding, as did Frederick Conyngham and Concepcion Vara, from
+Algeciras to Ronda, then a difficult ride through a wild, beautiful and
+not too safe district, the accommodation at Algeciras and Ronda being at
+that time of an entirely primitive description. Spain had for Merriman
+ever a peculiar attraction: the character of the Spanish
+gentleman--proud, courteous, dignified--particularly appealed to him.
+
+The next country in which he sought inspiration was Holland. "Roden's
+Corner," published in 1898, broke new ground: its plot, it will be
+remembered, turns on a commercial enterprise. The title and the main
+idea of the story were taken from Merriman's earliest literary venture,
+the beginning of a novel--there were only a few chapters of it--which
+he had written before "Young Mistley," and which he had discarded,
+dissatisfied.
+
+The novel "Dross" was produced in America in 1899, having appeared
+serially in this country in a well-known newspaper. Written during a
+period of ill-health, Merriman thought it beneath his best work, and,
+true to that principle which ruled his life as an author, to give to the
+public so far as he could of that best, and of that best only, he
+declined (of course to his own monetary disadvantage) to permit its
+publication in England in book form.
+
+Its _mise-en-scene_ is France and Suffolk; its period the Second
+Empire--the period of "The Last Hope." Napoleon III., a character by
+whom Merriman was always peculiarly attracted, shadows it: in it appears
+John Turner, the English banker of Paris, of "The Last Hope"; an
+admirable and amusing sketch of a young Frenchman; and an excellent
+description of the magnificent scenery about Saint Martin Lantosque, in
+the Maritime Alps.
+
+For the benefit of "The Isle of Unrest," his next book, Merriman had
+travelled through Corsica--not the Corsica of fashionable hotels and
+health-resorts, but the wild and unknown parts of that lawless and
+magnificent island. For "The Velvet Glove" he visited Pampeluna,
+Saragossa, and Lerida. The country of "The Vultures"--Warsaw and its
+neighbourhood--he saw in company with his friend, Mr. Stanley Weyman.
+The pleasure of another trip, the one he took in western
+France--Angouleme, Cognac, and the country of the Charente--for the
+scenery of "The Last Hope," was also doubled by Mr. Weyman's presence.
+In Dantzig--the Dantzig of "Barlasch of the Guard"--Merriman made a stay
+in a bitter mid-winter, visiting also Vilna and Koenigsberg; part of the
+route of the Great Retreat from Moscow he traced himself. He was
+inclined to consider--and if an author is not quite the worst judge of
+his own work he is generally quite the best--that in "Barlasch" he
+reached his high-water mark. The short stories, comprised in the volume
+entitled "Tomaso's Fortune," were published after his death. In every
+case, the _locale_ they describe was known to Merriman personally.
+At the Monastery of Montserrat--whence the monk in "A Small World" saw
+the accident to the diligencia--the author had made a stay of some days.
+The Farlingford of "The Last Hope" is Orford in Suffolk: the French
+scenes, as has been said, Merriman had visited with Mr. Weyman, whose
+"Abbess of Vlaye" they also suggested. The curious may still find the
+original of the Hotel Gemosac in Paris--not far from the Palais d'Orsay
+Hotel--"between the Rue de Lille and the Boulevard St. Germain."
+
+"The Last Hope" was not, in a sense, Merriman's last novel. He left at
+his death about a dozen completed chapters, and the whole plot carefully
+mapped out, of yet another Spanish book, which dealt with the Spain of
+the Peninsular War of 1808-14. These chapters, which were destroyed by
+the author's desire, were of excellent promise, and written with great
+vigour and spirit. His last trip was taken, in connection with this
+book, to the country of Sir Arthur Wellesley's exploits. The plot of the
+story was concerned with a case of mistaken identity; the sketch of a
+Guerilla leader, Pedro--bearing some affinity to the Concepcion Vara of
+"In Kedar's Tents"--was especially happy.
+
+It has been seen that Merriman was not the class of author who "sits in
+Fleet Street and writes news from the front." He strongly believed in
+the value of personal impressions, and scarcely less in the value of
+first impressions. In his own case, the correctness of his first
+impressions--what he himself called laughingly his _"coup
+d'oeil"_--is in a measure proved by a note-book, now lying before the
+writers, in which he recorded his views of Bastia and the Corsicans
+after a very brief acquaintance--that view requiring scarcely any
+modification when first impressions had been exchanged for real
+knowledge and experience.
+
+As to his methods of writing, in the case of all his novels, except the
+four early suppressed ones, he invariably followed the plan of drawing
+out the whole plot and a complete synopsis of every chapter before he
+began to write the book at all.
+
+Partly as a result of this plan perhaps, but more as a result of great
+natural facility in writing, his manuscripts were often without a single
+erasure for many pages; and a typewriter was really a superfluity.
+
+It is certainly true to say that no author ever had more pleasure in his
+art than Merriman. The fever and the worry which accompany many literary
+productions he never knew.
+
+Among the professional critics he had neither personal friends nor
+personal foes; and accepted their criticisms--hostile or
+favourable--with perfect serenity and open-mindedness. He was, perhaps,
+if anything, only too ready to alter his work in accordance with their
+advice: he always said that he owed them much; and admired their
+perspicuity in detecting a promise in his earliest books, which he
+denied finding there himself. His invincible modesty made him ready to
+accept not only professional criticism but--a harder thing--the advice
+of critics on the hearth. It was out of compliance with such a domestic
+criticism that the _denouement_ in "The Sowers" was re-written as
+it now stands, the scene of the attack on the Castle being at first
+wholly different.
+
+The jealousy and bitterness which are supposed to be inseparable from
+the literary life certainly never affected Merriman's. He had no trace
+of such feelings in his nature. Of one who is known to the public
+exclusively through his writings, it may seem strange--but it is not the
+less true--to say that his natural bent was not to the life of a
+literary man, but to a life of action, and that it was fate, rather than
+inclination, which made him express himself in words instead of deeds. A
+writer's books are generally his best biography: the "strong, quiet
+man," whose forte was to do much and say nothing; who, like Marcos
+Sarrion, loved the free and plain life of the field and the open, was a
+natural hero for Merriman, "as finding there unconsciously some image of
+himself."
+
+To any other biography he was strongly opposed. His dislike of the
+advertisement and the self-advertisement of the interview and the
+personal paragraph deepened with time. He held strongly and
+consistently, as he held all his opinions, that a writer should be known
+to the public by his books, and by his books only. One of his last
+expressed wishes was that there should be no record of his private life.
+
+It is respect for that wish which here stays the present writers' pen.
+
+E.F.S.
+
+S.G.T.
+
+_July_ 1909.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+CHAPTERS
+
+     I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+    II. TOOLS
+   III. WITHOUT REST
+    IV. BURDENED
+     V. A REUNION
+    VI. BROKEN THREADS
+   VII. PUPPETS
+  VIII. FALSE METAL
+    IX. A CLUE
+     X. ON THE SCENT
+    XI. BURY BLUFF
+   XII. A WARNING WORD
+  XIII. A NIGHT WATCH
+   XIV. FOILED
+    XV. ROOKS
+   XVI. FOES
+  XVII. A RETREAT
+ XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST
+   XIX. FOUL PLAY
+    XX. WINGED
+   XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+  XXII. GREEK AND GREEK
+ XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN
+  XXIV. BACK TO LIFE
+   XXV. BACK TO WORK
+  XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO
+ XXVII. IN THE RUE ST GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+
+
+It was, not so many years ago, called the Rue de l'Empire, but
+republics are proverbially sensitive. Once they are established they
+become morbidly desirous of obliterating a past wherein no republic
+flourished. The street is therefore dedicated to St. Gingolphe to-day.
+To-morrow? Who can tell?
+
+It is presumably safe to take it for granted that you are located in the
+neighbourhood of the Louvre, on the north side of the river which is so
+unimportant a factor to Paris. For all good Englishmen have been, or
+hope in the near future to be, located near this spot. All good
+Americans, we are told, relegate the sojourn to a more distant future.
+
+The bridge to cross is that of the Holy Fathers. So called to-day. Once
+upon a time--but no matter. Bridges are peculiarly liable to change in
+troubled times. The Rue St. Gingolphe is situated between the Boulevard
+St. Germain and Quai Voltaire. One hears with equal facility the
+low-toned boom of the steamers' whistle upon the river, and the crack of
+whips in the boulevard. Once across the bridge, turn to the right, and
+go along the Quay, between the lime-trees and the bookstalls. You will
+probably go slowly because of the bookstalls. No one worth talking to
+could help doing so. Then turn to the left, and after a few paces you
+will find upon your right hand the Rue St. Gingolphe. It is noted in the
+Directory "Botot" that this street is one hundred and forty-five metres
+long; and who would care to contradict "Botot," or even to throw the
+faintest shadow of a doubt upon his statement? He has probably measured.
+
+If your fair and economical spouse should think of repairing to the
+Bon-Marche to secure some of those wonderful linen pillow-cases (at one
+franc forty) with your august initial embroidered on the centre with a
+view of impressing the sleeper's cheek, she will pass the end of the Rue
+St. Gingolphe on her way--provided the cabman be honest. There! You
+cannot help finding it now.
+
+The street itself is a typical Parisian street of one hundred and
+forty-five metres. There is room for a baker's, a cafe, a bootmaker's,
+and a tobacconist who sells very few stamps. The Parisians do not write
+many letters. They say they have not time. But the tobacconist makes up
+for the meanness of his contribution to the inland revenue of one
+department by a generous aid to the other. He sells a vast number of
+cigarettes and cigars of the very worst quality. And it is upon the
+worst quality that the Government makes the largest profit. It is in
+every sense of the word a weed which grows as lustily as any of its
+compeers in and around Oran, Algiers, and Bonah.
+
+The Rue St. Gingolphe is within a stone's-throw of the Ecole des
+Beaux-Arts, and in the very centre of a remarkably cheap and yet
+respectable quarter. Thus there are many young men occupying apartments
+in close proximity--and young men do not mind much what they smoke,
+especially provincial young men living in Paris. They feel it incumbent
+upon them to be constantly smoking something--just to show that they are
+Parisians, true sons of the pavement, knowing how to live. And their
+brightest hopes are in all truth realised, because theirs is certainly a
+reckless life, flavoured as it is with "number one" tobacco, and those
+"little corporal" cigarettes which are enveloped in the blue paper.
+
+The tobacconist's shop is singularly convenient. It has, namely, an
+entrance at the back, as well as that giving on to the street of St.
+Gingolphe. This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the
+stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perinere, a lady who
+paints the magic word "Modes" beneath her name on the door-post of
+number seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her
+bonnets to the farthest corner of Paris.
+
+The tobacconist is a large man, much given to perspiration. In fact, one
+may safely make the statement that he perspires annually from the middle
+of April to the second or even third week in October. In consequence of
+this habit he wears no collar, and a man without a collar does not start
+fairly on the social race. It is always best to make inquiries before
+condemning a man who wears no collar. There is probably a very good
+reason, as in the case of Mr. Jacquetot, but it is to be feared that few
+pause to seek it. One need not seek the reason with much assiduity in
+this instance, because the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe is
+always prepared to explain it at length. French people are thus. They
+talk of things, and take pleasure in so doing, which we, on this side of
+the Channel, treat with a larger discretion.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot does not even wear a collar on Sunday, for the simple
+reason that Sunday is to him as other days. He attends no place of
+worship, because he acknowledges but one god--the god of most
+Frenchmen--his inner man. His pleasures are gastronomical, his sorrows
+stomachic. The little shop is open early and late, Sundays, week-days,
+and holidays. Moreover, the tobacconist--Mr. Jacquetot himself--is
+always at his post, on the high chair behind the counter, near the
+window, where he can see into the street. This constant attention to
+business is almost phenomenal, because Frenchmen who worship the god of
+Mr. Jacquetot love to pay tribute on fete-days at one of the little
+restaurants on the Place at Versailles, at Duval's, or even in the
+Palais Royal. Mr. Jacquetot would have loved nothing better than a
+pilgrimage to any one of these shrines, but he was tied to the little
+tobacco store. Not by the chains of commerce. Oh, no! When rallied by
+his neighbours for such an unenterprising love of his own hearth, he
+merely shrugged his heavy shoulders.
+
+"What will you?" he would say; "one has one's affairs."
+
+Now the affairs of Mr. Jacquetot were, in the days with which we have to
+do, like many things on this earth, inasmuch as they were not what they
+seemed.
+
+It would be inexpedient, for reasons closely connected with the
+tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, as well as with other gentlemen
+still happily with us in the flesh, to be too exact as to dates. Suffice
+it, therefore, to say that it was only a few years ago that Mr.
+Jacquetot sat one evening as usual in his little shop. It happened to be
+a Tuesday evening, which is fortunate, because it was on Tuesdays and
+Saturdays that the little barber from round the corner called and shaved
+the vast cheeks of the tobacconist. Mr. Jacquetot was therefore quite
+presentable--doubly so, indeed, because it was yet March, and he had not
+yet entered upon his summer season.
+
+The little street was very quiet. There was no through traffic, and
+folks living in this quarter of Paris usually carry their own parcels.
+It was thus quite easy to note the approach of any passenger, when such
+had once turned the corner. Some one was approaching now, and Mr.
+Jacquetot threw away the stump of a cheap cigar. One would almost have
+said that he recognised the step at a considerable distance. Young
+people are in the habit of considering that when one gets old and stout
+one loses in intelligence; but this is not always the case. One is apt
+to expect little from a fat man; but that is often a mistake. Mr.
+Jacquetot weighed seventeen stone, but he was eminently intelligent. He
+had recognised the footstep while it was yet seventy metres away.
+
+In a few moments a gentleman of middle height paused in front of the
+shop, noted that it was a tobacconist's, and entered, carrying an
+unstamped letter with some ostentation. It must, by the way, be
+remembered that in France postage-stamps are to be bought at all
+tobacconists'.
+
+The new-comer's actions were characterised by a certain carelessness, as
+if he were going through a formula--perfunctorily--without admitting its
+necessity.
+
+He nodded to Mr. Jacquetot, and rather a pleasant smile flickered for a
+moment across his face. He was a singularly well-made man, of medium
+height, with straight, square shoulders and small limbs. He wore
+spectacles, and as he looked at one straight in the face there was a
+singular contraction of the eyes which hardly amounted to a
+cast--moreover, it was momentary. It was precisely the look of a hawk
+when its hood is suddenly removed in full daylight. This resemblance was
+furthered by the fact that the man's profile was birdlike. He was
+clean-shaven, and there was in his sleek head and determined little face
+that smooth, compact self-complacency which is to be noted in the head
+of a hawk.
+
+The face was small, like that of a Greek bust, but in expression it
+suggested a yet older people. There was that mystic depth of expression
+which comes from ancient Egypt. No one feature was obtrusive--all were
+chiselled with equal delicacy; and yet there was only one point of real
+beauty in the entire countenance. The mouth was perfect. But the man
+with a perfect mouth is usually one whom it will be found expedient to
+avoid. Without a certain allowance of sensuality no man is
+genial--without a little weakness there is no kind heart. This
+Frenchman's mouth was not, however, obtrusively faultless. It was
+perfect in its design, but, somehow, many people failed to take note of
+the fact. It is so with the "many," one finds. The human world is so
+blind that at times it would be almost excusable to harbour the
+suspicion that animals see more. There may be something in that instinct
+by which dogs, horses, and cats distinguish between friends and foes,
+detect sympathy, discover antipathy. It is possible that they see things
+in the human face to which our eyes are blinded--intentionally and
+mercifully blinded. If some of us were a little more observant, a few of
+the human combinations which we bring about might perhaps be less
+egregiously mistaken.
+
+It was probably the form of the lips that lent pleasantness to the smile
+with which Mr. Jacquetot was greeted, rather than the expression of the
+velvety eyes, which had in reality no power of smiling at all. They were
+sad eyes, like those of the women one sees on the banks of the Upper
+Nile, which never alter in expression--eyes that do not seem to be busy
+with this life at all, but fully occupied with something else: something
+beyond to-morrow or behind yesterday.
+
+"Not yet arrived?" inquired the new-comer in a voice of some
+distinction. It was a full, rich voice, and the French it spoke was not
+the French of Mr. Jacquetot, nor, indeed, of the Rue St. Gingolphe. It
+was the language one sometimes hears in an old _chateau_ lost in
+the depths of the country--the vast unexplored rural districts of
+France--where the bearers of dangerously historical names live out their
+lives with a singular suppression and patience. They are either biding
+their time or else they are content with the past and the part played by
+their ancestors therein. For there is an old French and a new. In Paris
+the new is spoken--the very newest. Were it anything but French it would
+be intolerably vulgar; as it is, it is merely neat and intensely
+expressive.
+
+"Not yet arrived, sir," said the tobacconist, and then he seemed to
+recollect himself, for he repeated:
+
+"Not yet arrived," without the respectful addition which had slipped out
+by accident.
+
+The new arrival took out his watch--a small one of beautiful
+workmanship, the watch of a lady--and consulted it. His movements were
+compact and rapid. He would have made a splendid light-weight boxer.
+
+"That," he said shortly, "is the way they fail. They do not understand
+the necessity of exactitude. The people--see you, Mr. Jacquetot, they
+fail because they have no exactitude."
+
+"But I am of the people," moving ponderously on his chair.
+
+"Essentially so. I know it, my friend. But I have taught you something."
+
+The tobacconist laughed.
+
+"I suppose so. But is it safe to stand there in the full day? Will you
+not pass in? The room is ready; the lamp is lighted. There is an agent
+of the police always at the end of the street now."
+
+"Ah, bah!" and he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. "I am not
+afraid of them. There is only one thing to be feared, Citizen
+Jacquetot--the press. The press and the people, _bien entendu_."
+
+"If you despise the people why do you use them?" asked Jacquetot
+abruptly.
+
+"In default of better, my friend. If one has not steam one uses the
+river to turn the mill-wheel. The river is slow; sometimes it is too
+weak, sometimes too strong. One never has full control over it, but it
+turns the wheel--it turns the wheel, brother Jacquetot."
+
+"And eventually sweeps away the miller," suggested the tobacconist
+lightly. It must be remembered that though stout he was intelligent. Had
+he not been so it is probable that this conversation would never have
+taken place. The dark-eyed man did not look like one who would have the
+patience to deal with stupid people.
+
+Again the pleasant smile flickered like the light of a fire in a dark
+place.
+
+"That," was the reply, "is the affair of the miller."
+
+"But," conceded Jacquetot, meditatively selecting a new cigar from a box
+which he had reached without moving from his chair, "but the
+people--they are fools, hein!"
+
+"Ah!" with a protesting shrug, as if deprecating the enunciation of such
+a platitude.
+
+Then he passed through into a little room behind the shop--a little room
+where no daylight penetrated, because there was no window to it. It
+depended for daylight upon the shop, with which it communicated by a
+door of which the upper half was glass. But this glass was thickly
+curtained with the material called Turkey-red, threefold.
+
+And the tobacconist was left alone in his shop, smoking gravely. There
+are some people like oysters, inasmuch as they leave an after-taste
+behind them. The man who had just gone into the little room at the rear
+of the tobacconist's shop of the Rue St. Gingolphe in Paris was one of
+these. And the taste he left behind him was rather disquieting. One was
+apt to feel that there was a mistake somewhere in the ordering of human
+affairs, and that this man was one of its victims.
+
+In a few minutes two men passed hastily through the shop into the little
+room, with scarcely so much as a nod for Mr. Jacquetot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+TOOLS
+
+
+The first man to enter the room was clad in a blouse of coarse grey
+cloth which reached down to his knees. On his head he wore a black silk
+cap, very much pressed down and exceedingly greasy on the right side.
+This was to be accounted for by the fact that he used his right shoulder
+more than the left in that state of life in which he had been placed. It
+was not what we, who do not kill, would consider a pleasant state. He
+was, in fact, a slayer of beasts--a foreman at the slaughter-house.
+
+It is, perhaps, fortunate that Antoine Lerac is of no great prominence
+in this record, and of none in his official capacity at the
+slaughter-house. But the man is worthy of some small attention, because
+he was so essentially of the nineteenth century--so distinctly a product
+of the latter end of what is, for us at least, the most important cycle
+of years the world has passed through. He was a man wearing the blouse
+with ostentation, and glorying in the greasy cap: professing his
+unwillingness to exchange the one for an ermine robe or the other for a
+crown. As a matter of fact, he invariably purchased the largest and
+roughest blouse to be found, and his cap was unnecessarily soaked with
+suet. He was a knight of industry of the very worst description--a
+braggart, a talker, a windbag. He preached, or rather he shrieked, the
+doctrine of equality, but the equality he sought was that which would
+place him on a par with his superiors, while in no way benefiting those
+beneath him.
+
+At one time, when he had first come into contact with the dark-eyed man
+who now sat at the table watching him curiously, there had been a
+struggle for mastery.
+
+"I am," he had said with considerable heat, "as good as you. That is all
+I wish to demonstrate."
+
+"No," replied the other with that calm and assured air of superiority
+which the people once tried in vain to stamp out with the guillotine.
+"No, it is not. You want to demonstrate that you are superior, and you
+cannot do it. You say that you have as much right to walk on the
+pavement as I. I admit it. In your heart you want to prove that you have
+_more_, and you cannot do it. I could wear your blouse with
+comfort, but you could not put on my hat or my gloves without making
+yourself ridiculous. But--that is not the question. Let us get to
+business."
+
+And in time the butcher succumbed, as he was bound to do, to the man
+whom he shrewdly suspected of being an aristocrat.
+
+He who entered the room immediately afterwards was of a very different
+type. His mode of entry was of another description. Whereas the man of
+blood swaggered in with an air of nervous truculence, as if he were
+afraid that some one was desirous of disputing his equality, the next
+comer crept in softly, and closed the door with accuracy. He was the
+incarnation of benevolence--in the best sense of the word, a sweet old
+man--looking out upon the world through large tinted spectacles with a
+beam which could not be otherwise than blind to all motes. In earlier
+years his face might, perhaps, have been a trifle hard in its contour;
+but Time, the lubricator, had eased some of the corners, and it was now
+the seat of kindness and love. He bowed ceremoniously to the first
+comer, and his manner seemed rather to breathe of fraternity than
+equality. As he bowed he mentioned the gentleman's name in such loving
+tones that no greeting could have been heartier.
+
+"Citizen Morot," he said.
+
+The butcher, with more haste than dignity, assumed the chair which stood
+at the opposite end of the table to that occupied by the Citizen Morot.
+He had evidently hurried in first in order to secure that seat. From his
+pocket he produced a somewhat soiled paper, which he threw with
+exaggerated carelessness across the table. His manner was not entirely
+free from a suggestion of patronage.
+
+"What have we here?" inquired the first comer, who had not hitherto
+opened his lips, with a deep interest which might possibly have been
+ironical. He was just the sort of man to indulge in irony for his own
+satisfaction. He unfolded the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "a receipt for five hundred rifles with bayonets and
+shoulder-straps complete. 'Received of the Citizen Morot five hundred
+rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.--Antoine Lerac.'"
+
+He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.
+
+"Thank you," he said gravely.
+
+Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of
+the little iron stove behind him.
+
+"I judged it best to be strictly business-like," said the butcher, with
+moderately well-simulated carelessness.
+
+"But yes, Monsieur Lerac," with a shrug. "We of the Republic distrust
+each other so completely."
+
+The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.
+
+"The brave Lerac," he said, "is a man of business."
+
+Citizen Morot ignored this observation.
+
+"And," he said, turning to Lerac, "you have them stored in a safe place?
+There is absolutely no doubt of that?"
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"Good."
+
+"They are under my own eye."
+
+"Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One
+cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we
+bought, the ammunition we must steal."
+
+"They are good rifles--they are English," said the butcher.
+
+"Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready
+to place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as
+themselves."
+
+The old gentleman laughed--a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably
+encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
+
+"At last Friday's meeting," Lerac said shortly, "we enrolled forty new
+members. We now number four hundred and two in our _arrondissement_
+alone."
+
+"Good," muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
+
+"And four hundred hardy companions they are."
+
+"So I should imagine" (very gravely).
+
+"Four hundred strong men," broke in the old gentleman rather hastily.
+"Ah, but that is already a power."
+
+"It is," opined Lerac sententiously, "the strong man who is the power.
+Riches are nothing; birth is nothing. This is the day of force. Force is
+everything."
+
+"Everything," acquiesced Morot fervently. He was consulting a small
+note-book, wherein he jotted down some figures.
+
+"Four hundred and two," he muttered as he wrote, "up to Friday night, in
+the _arrondissement_ of the citizen--the good citizen--Antoine
+Lerac."
+
+The butcher looked up with a doubtful expression upon his coarse face.
+His great brutal lips twitched, and he was on the point of speaking when
+the Citizen Morot's velvety eyes met his gaze with a quiet smile in
+which arrogance and innocence were mingled.
+
+"And now," said the last-mentioned, turning affably to the old
+gentleman, "let us have the report of the reverend Father."
+
+"Ah," laughed Lerac, without attempting to conceal the contempt that was
+in his soul, "the Church."
+
+The old gentleman spread out his hands in mild deprecation.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "we are under a shadow. I do not even dare to wear
+my cassock."
+
+"You are in a valley of shadow, my reverend friend," said the butcher,
+with visible exultation, "to which the sun will never penetrate now."
+
+The Citizen Morot laughed at this pleasantry, while the old man against
+whom it was directed bowed his head patiently.
+
+"And yet," said the laugher, with a certain air of patronage, "the
+Church is of some use still. She paid for those rifles, and she will pay
+for the ammunition--is it not so, my father?"
+
+"Without doubt--without doubt."
+
+"Not to mention," continued the other, "many contributions towards our
+general fund. The force that is supplied by the strong right arm of the
+people is, one finds, a force constantly in need of substantial
+replenishment."
+
+"But," exclaimed the butcher, emphatically banging his fist down upon
+the table, "why does she do it? That is what I want to know!"
+
+The old priest glanced furtively towards Morot, and then his face
+assumed an air of childish bewilderment.
+
+"Ah!" he said guilelessly, "who can tell?"
+
+"Who, indeed!" chimed in Morot.
+
+The butcher was pleased with himself. He sat upright, and, banging the
+table a second time, he looked round defiantly.
+
+"But," said Morot, in an indifferent way which was frequently
+characteristic, "I do not see that it matters much. The money is good.
+It buys rifles, and it places them in the hands of the Citizen Lerac and
+his hardy companions. And when all is said and done, when the cartridges
+are burnt and a New Commune is raised, what does it matter whose money
+bought the rifles, and with what object the money was supplied?"
+
+The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
+conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
+upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for
+the sake of peace.
+
+The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets--causing
+Morot to wince visibly--and acquiesced.
+
+"But," he added cunningly, "the Church, see you--Ach! it is deep--it is
+treacherous. Never trust the Church!"
+
+The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
+singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man
+and said--
+
+"Have you nothing to report to us--my father?"
+
+"Nothing of great importance," replied he humbly. "All is going on well.
+We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
+and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
+in order to carry out the--the--what shall I say?--the loan of the
+ammunition."
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the butcher.
+
+Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.
+
+"Next week?" he said interrogatively.
+
+"Yes--on Tuesday."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The butcher here rose and ostentatiously dragged out a watch from the
+depths of his blouse.
+
+"I must go," he said. "I have committee at seven o'clock. And I shall
+dine first."
+
+"Yes," said Morot gravely. "Dine first. Take good care of yourself,
+citizen."
+
+"Trust me."
+
+"I do," was the reply, delivered with a little nod in answer to Lerac's
+curt farewell bow.
+
+The butcher walked noisily through the shop--heavy with
+responsibility--weighted with the sense of his own importance to the
+world in general and to France in particular. Had he walked less noisily
+he might have overheard the soft laugh of the old priest.
+
+Citizen Morot did not laugh. He was not a laughing man. But a fine,
+disdainful smile passed over his face, scarce lighting it up at all.
+
+"What an utter fool the man is!" he said impatiently.
+
+"Yes--sir," replied the old man, "but if he were less so it would be
+difficult to manage him."
+
+"I am not sure. I always prefer to deal with knaves than with fools."
+
+"That is because your Highness knows how to outwit them."
+
+"No titles--my father," said the Citizen Morot quietly. "No titles here,
+if you please. Tell me, are you quite sure of this scum--this Lerac?"
+
+"As sure as one can be of anything that comes from the streets. He is an
+excitable, bumptious, quarrelsome man; but he has a certain influence
+with those beneath him, although it seems hard to realise that there are
+such."
+
+"Ha! you are right! But a republic is a social manure-heap--that which
+is on the top is not pleasant, and the stuff below--ugh!"
+
+The manner of the two men had quite changed. He who was called Morot
+leant back in his seat and stretched his arms out wearily. There is no
+disguise like animation; when that is laid aside we see the real man or
+the real woman. In repose this Frenchman was not cheerful to look upon.
+He was not sanguine, and a French pessimist is the worst thing of the
+kind that is to be found.
+
+When the door had closed behind the departing Lerac, the old priest
+seemed to throw off suddenly quite a number of years. His voice, when
+next he spoke, was less senile, his movements were brisker. He was, in a
+word, less harmless.
+
+Mr. Jacquetot had finished his dinner, brought in from a neighbouring
+restaurant all hot, and was slumberously enjoying a very strong-smelling
+cigar, when the door of the little room opened at length, and the two
+men went out together into the dimly-lighted street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+WITHOUT REST
+
+
+Half-way down Fleet Street, on the left-hand side, stands the church of
+St. Dunstan-in-the-West. Around its grimy foundations there seethes a
+struggling, toiling race of men--not only from morning till night, but
+throughout the twenty-four hours. Within sound of this church bell a
+hundred printing-presses throb out their odorous broadsheets to be
+despatched to every part of the world. Day and night, week in week out,
+the human writing-machines, and those other machines which are almost
+human (and better than human in some points) hurry through their
+allotted tasks, and ignore the saintly shadow cast upon them by the
+spire of St. Dunstan. This is indeed the centre of the world: the hub
+from whence spring the spokes of the vast wheel of life. For to this
+point all things over the world converge by a vast web of wire,
+railroad, coach road, and steamer track. Upon wings that boast of
+greater speed than the wind can compass come to this point the voices of
+our kin in farthest lands. News--news--news. News from the East of
+events occurring in the afternoon--scan it over and flash it westward,
+where it will be read on the morning of the same day! News in every
+tongue to be translated and brought into shape--while the solemn church
+clock tells his tale in deep voice, audible above the din and scurry.
+
+From hurried scribbler to pale compositor, and behold, the news is
+bawled all over London! Such work as this goes on for ever around the
+church of St. Dunstan. Scribblers come and scribblers go; compositors
+come to their work young and hopeful, they leave it bent and poisoned,
+yet the work goes on. Each day the pace grows quicker, each day some new
+means of rapid propagation is discovered, and each day life becomes
+harder to live. One morning, perhaps, a scribbler is absent from his
+post--"Brain-fever, complete rest; a wreck." For years his writings have
+been read by thousands daily. A new man takes the vacant chair--he has
+been waiting more or less impatiently for this--and the thousands are
+none the wiser. One night the head compositor presses his black hand to
+his sunken chest, and staggers home. "And time too--he's had his turn,"
+mutters the second compositor as he thinks of the extra five shillings a
+week. No doubt he is right. Every dog his day.
+
+Nearly opposite to the church stands a tall narrow house of dirty red
+brick, and it is with this house that we have to do.
+
+At seven o'clock, one evening some years ago--when heads now grey were
+brown, when eyes now dim were bright--the Strand was in its usual state
+of turmoil. Carriage followed carriage. Seedy clerks hustled past portly
+merchants--not their own masters, _bien entendu_, but those of
+other seedy clerks. Carriages and foot-passengers were alike going
+westward. All were leaving behind them the day and the busy city--some
+after a few hours devoted to the perusal of _Times_ and
+_Gazette_; others fagged and weary from a long day of dusty books.
+
+Ah! those were prosperous days in the City. Days when men of but a few
+years' standing rolled out to Clapham or Highgate behind a pair of
+horses. Days when books were often represented by a bank-book and a
+roughly-kept day-book. What need to keep mighty ledgers when profits are
+great and returns quick in their returning?
+
+As the pedestrians made their way along the narrow pavement some of them
+glanced at the door of the tall red-brick house and read the inscription
+on a brass plate screwed thereon. This consisted of two mystic words:
+_The Beacon_. There was, however, in reality, no mystery about it.
+The _Beacon_ was a newspaper, published weekly, and the clock of
+St. Dunstan's striking seven told the end of another week. The
+publishing day was past; another week with its work and pleasure was to
+be faced.
+
+From early morning until six o'clock in the evening this narrow doorway
+and passage had been crowded by a heaving, swearing, laughing mass of
+more or less dilapidated humanity interested in the retail sale of
+newspapers. At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on
+the staff of the _Beacon_, had taken his station at the door, in
+order to greet would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging
+words: "Sold hout!"
+
+During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling
+"hout" of the _Beacon_ every Tuesday evening.
+
+At seven o'clock Mrs. Bander emerged from her den on the fourth floor,
+like a portly good-natured spider, and with a broom proceeded to attack
+the dust shaken from the boots of the journalistic fraternity, with
+noisy energy. After that she polished the door-plate; and peace reigned
+within the narrow house.
+
+On the second floor there was a small room with windows looking out into
+a narrow lane behind the house. It was a singularly quiet room; the door
+opened and shut without sound or vibration; double windows insured
+immunity from the harrowing cries of such enterprising merchants as
+exercised their lungs and callings in the narrow lane beneath. A certain
+sense of ease and comfort imperceptibly crept over the senses of persons
+entering this tiny apartment. It must have been in the atmosphere; for
+some rooms more luxuriously furnished are without it. It certainly does
+not lie in the furniture--this imperceptible sense of companionship; it
+does not lurk in the curtains. Some mansions know it, and many cottages.
+It is even to be met with in the tiny cabin of a coasting vessel.
+
+This diminutive room, despite its lack of sunlight, was such as one
+might wish to sit in. A broad low table stood in the middle of the
+floor, and on it lay the mellow light of a shaded lamp. At this table
+two men were seated opposite to each other. One was writing, slowly and
+easily, the other was idling with the calm restfulness of a man who has
+never worked very hard. He was rolling his pencil up to the top of his
+blotting-pad, and allowing it to come down again in accordance with the
+rules of gravity.
+
+This was Mr. Bodery's habit when thoughtful; and after all, there was no
+great harm in it. Mr. Bodery was editor and proprietor of the
+_Beacon_. The amusing and somewhat satirical article which appeared
+weekly under the heading of "Light" was penned by the chubby hand at
+that moment engaged with the pencil.
+
+Mr. Morgan, sub-editor, was even stouter than his chief. Laughter was
+his most prominent characteristic. He laughed over "Light" when in its
+embryo state, he laughed when the _Beacon_ sold out at six o'clock
+on Tuesday evenings. He laughed when the printing-machine went wrong on
+Monday afternoon, and--most wonderful of all--he laughed at his own
+jokes, in which exercise he was usually alone. His jokes were not of the
+first force. Mr. Morgan was the author of the slightly laboured and
+weighty Parliamentary articles on the first page. He never joked on
+paper, which is a gift apart.
+
+These two gentlemen were in no way of brilliant intellect. They had
+their share of sound, practical common-sense, which is in itself a
+splendid substitute. Fortune had come to them (as it comes to most men
+when it comes at all) without any apparent reason. Mr. Bodery had
+supplied the capital, and Mr. Morgan's share of the undertaking was
+added in the form of a bustling, hollow energy. The _Beacon_ was
+lighted, so to speak. It burnt in a dull and somewhat flickering manner
+for some years; then a new hand fed the flame, and its light spread
+afar.
+
+It was from pure good nature that Mr. Bodery held out a helping hand to
+the son of his old friend, Walter Vellacott, when that youth appeared
+one day at the office of the _Beacon_, and in an off-hand manner
+announced that he was seeking employment. Like many actions performed
+from a similar motive, Mr. Bodery's kindness of heart met with its
+reward. Young Christian Vellacott developed a remarkable talent for
+journalistic literature--in fact, he was fortunate enough to have found,
+at the age of twenty-two, his avocation in life.
+
+Gradually, as the years wore on, the influence of the young fellow's
+superior intellect made itself felt. Prom the position of a mere
+supernumerary, he worked his way upwards, taking on to his shoulders one
+duty after another--bearing the weight, quietly and confidently, of one
+responsibility after another. This exactly suited Mr. Bodery and his
+sub-editor. There was very little of the slave in the composition of
+either. They delighted in an easy, luxurious life, with just enough work
+to impart a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction. It suited Christian
+Vellacott also. In a few weeks he found his level--in a few months he
+began rising to higher levels.
+
+He was an only son; the only child of a brilliant father whose name was
+known in every court in Europe as that of a harum-scarum diplomatist,
+who could have done great things in his short life if he had wished to.
+It is from only sons that Fortune selects her favourites. Men who have
+no brothers to share their amusements turn to serious matters early in
+life. Christian Vellacott soon discovered that a head was required at
+the office of the _Beacon_ to develop the elements of success
+undoubtedly lying within the journal, and that the owner of such a head
+could in time dictate his own terms to the easy-going proprietor.
+
+Unsparingly he devoted the whole of his exceptional energies to the work
+before him. He lived in and for it. Each night he went home fagged and
+weary; but each morning saw him return to it with undaunted spirit.
+
+Human nature, however, is exhaustible. The influence of a strong mind
+over a strong body is great, but it is nevertheless limited. The
+_Beacon_ had reached a large circulation, but its slave was worn
+out. Two years without a holiday--two years of hurried, hard brain-work
+had left their mark. It is often so when a man finds his avocation too
+early. He is too hurried, works too hard, and collapses; or he becomes
+self-satisfied, over-confident, and unbearable. Fortunately for
+Christian Vellacott he was devoid of conceit, which is like the
+scaffolding round a church-spire, reaching higher and falling first.
+
+There was also a "home" influence at work. When Christian passed out of
+the narrow doorway, and turned his face westward, his day's work was by
+no means over, as will be shown hereafter.
+
+As Mr. Bodery rolled his pencil up and down his blotting-pad, he was
+slowly realising the fact that something must be done. Presently he
+looked up, and his pleasant eyes rested on the bent head of his
+sub-editor.
+
+"Morgan," he said, "I have been thinking--Seems to me Vellacott wants a
+rest! He's played out!"
+
+Mr. Morgan wiped his pen vigorously upon his coat, just beneath the
+shoulder, and sat back in his chair.
+
+"Yes," he replied; "he has not been up to the mark for some time. But
+you will find difficulty in making him take a holiday. He is a devil for
+working--ha, ha!"
+
+This "ha, ha!" did not mean very much. There was no mirth in it. It was
+a species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his
+remark.
+
+"I will ring for him now and see what he says about it."
+
+Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong.
+Almost instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without
+said, "Yess'r." A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at
+attention in the doorway.
+
+"Has Mr. Vellacott gone?"
+
+"No--sir!" In a tone which seemed to ask: "Now _is_ it likely?"
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"In the shop, sir."
+
+"Ask him to come here, please."
+
+"Yess'r."
+
+The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his
+heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head
+of the stairs. Then he proceeded to slide down the banister, to the
+trifling detriment of his waistcoat. As he reached the end of his
+perilous journey a door opened at the foot of the stairs, and a man's
+form became discernible in the dim light.
+
+"Is that the way you generally come downstairs, Wilson?" asked a voice.
+
+"It is the quickest way, sir!"
+
+"Not quite; there is one quicker, which you will discover some day if
+you overbalance at the top!"
+
+"Mr. Bodery wishes to see you, please sir!" The small boy's manner was
+very different from what it had been outside the door upstairs.
+
+"All right," replied Vellacott, putting on the coat he had been carrying
+over his arm. A peculiar smooth rapidity characterised all his
+movements. At school he had been considered a very "clean" fielder. The
+cleanness was there still.
+
+The preternaturally sharp boy--sharp as only London boys are--watched
+the lithe form vanish up the stairs; then he wagged his head very wisely
+and said to himself in a patronising way:
+
+"He's the right sort, he is--no chalk there!"
+
+Subsequently he balanced his diminutive person full length upon the
+balustrade, and proceeded to haul himself laboriously, hand over hand,
+to the top.
+
+In the meantime Christian Vellacott had passed into the editor's room.
+The light of the lamp was driven downwards upon the table, but the
+reflection of it rose and illuminated his face. It was a fairly handsome
+face, with eyes just large enough to be keen and quick without being
+dreamy. The slight fair moustache was not enough to hide the mouth,
+which was refined, and singularly immobile. He glanced at Mr. Bodery, as
+he entered, quickly and comprehensively, and then turned his eyes
+towards Mr. Morgan. His face was very still and unemotional, but it was
+pale, and his eyes were deeply sunken. A keen observer would have
+noticed, in comparing the three men, that there was something about the
+youngest which was lacking in his elders. It lay in the direct gaze of
+his eyes, in the carriage of his head, in the small, motionless mouth.
+It was what is vaguely called "power."
+
+"Sit down, Vellacott," said Mr. Brodery. "We want to have a
+consultation." After a short pause he continued: "You know, of course,
+that it is a dull season just now. People do not seem to read the papers
+in August. Now, we want you to take a holiday. Morgan has been away; I
+shall go when you come back. Say three weeks or a month. You've been
+over-working yourself a bit--burning the candle at both ends, eh?"
+
+"Hardly at both ends," corrected Vellacott, with a ready smile which
+entirely transformed his face. "Hardly at both ends--at one end in a
+draught, perhaps."
+
+"Ha, ha! Very good," chimed in Mr. Morgan the irrepressible. "At one end
+in a draught--that is like me, only the draught has got inside my cheeks
+and blown them out instead of in like yours, eh? Ha, ha!" And he patted
+his cheeks affectionately.
+
+"I don't think I care for a holiday just now, thanks," he said slowly,
+without remembering to call up a smile for Mr. Morgan's benefit.
+Unconsciously he put his hand to his forehead, which was damp with the
+heat of the printing-office which he had just left.
+
+"My dear fellow," said Mr. Bodery gravely, emphasising his remarks with
+the pencil, "you have one thing in life to learn yet--no doubt you have
+many, but this one in particular you must learn. Work is not the only
+thing we are created for--not the only thing worth living for. It is a
+necessary evil, that is all. When you have reached my age you will come
+to look upon it as such. A little enjoyment is good for every one. There
+are many things to form a brighter side to life.
+Nature--travelling--riding--rowing----"
+
+"And love," suggested the sub-editor, placing his hand dramatically on
+the right side of his broad waistcoat instead of the left. He could
+afford to joke on the subject now that the grass grew high in the little
+country churchyard where he had laid his young wife fifteen years
+before. In those days he was a grave, self-contained man, but that
+sorrow had entirely changed his nature. The true William Morgan only
+came out on paper now.
+
+Mr. Bodery was right. Christian had yet to learn a great lesson, and
+unconsciously he was even now beginning to grasp its meaning. His whole
+mind was full of his work, and out of those earnest grey eyes his soul
+was looking at the man who was perhaps saving his life.
+
+"We can easily manage it," said the editor, continuing his advantage. "I
+will take over the foreign policy article. The reviewing you can do
+yourself, as we can always send you the books, and there is no pressing
+hurry about them. The general work we will manage somehow--won't we,
+Morgan?"
+
+"Of course we will; as well as and perhaps better than he could do it
+himself, eh? Ha, ha!"
+
+"But seriously, Vellacott," continued Mr. Bodery, "things will go on
+just as well for a time. When I was young I used to make that mistake
+too. I thought that no one could manage things like myself, but in time
+I realised (as you will do some day) that things went on as smoothly
+when I was away. Depend upon it, my boy, when a man is put on the shelf,
+worn out and useless, another soon fills his place. You are too young to
+go on the shelf yet. To please me, Vellacott, go away for three weeks."
+
+"You are very kind, sir--" began the young fellow, but Mr. Bodery
+interrupted him.
+
+"Well, then, that is settled. Shall we say this day week? That will give
+you time to make your plans."
+
+With a few words of thanks Christian left the room. Vaguely and
+mechanically he wandered upstairs to his own particular den. It was a
+disappointing little chamber. The chaos one expects to find on the desk
+of a literary man was lacking here. No papers lay on the table in
+artistic disorder. The presiding genius of the room was
+method--clear-headed, practical method. The walls were hidden by shelves
+of books, from the last half-hysterical production of some vain woman to
+the single-volume work of a man's lifetime. Many of the former were
+uncut, the latter bore signs of having been read and studied. The
+companionship of these silent friends brought peace and contentment to
+the young man's spirit. He sat wearily down, and, leaning his chin upon
+his folded arms, he thought. Gradually there came into his mind pictures
+of the fair open country, of rolling hills and quiet valleys, of quiet
+lanes and running waters. A sudden yearning to breathe God's pure air
+took possession of his faculties. Mr. Bodery had gained the day. In the
+room below Mr. Morgan wrote on in his easy, comfortable manner. The
+editor was still thoughtfully playing with his pencil. The sharp little
+boy was standing on his head in the passage. At last Mr. Bodery rose
+from his chair and began his preparations for leaving. As he brushed his
+hat he looked towards his companion and said:
+
+"That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one."
+
+"I recognised that fact some years ago," replied the sub-editor, wiping
+his pen on his coat. "It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+BURDENED
+
+
+Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the
+westward-wending throng in the Strand. In the midst of the crowd he was
+alone, as townsmen soon learn to be. The passing faces, the roar of
+traffic, and the thousand human possibilities of interest around him in
+no way disturbed his thoughts. In his busy brain the traffic of thought,
+passing and repassing, crossing and recrossing, went on unaffected by
+outward things. A modern poet has confessed that his muse loves the
+pavement--a bold confession, but most certainly true. Why does talent
+gravitate to cities? Because there it works its best--because friction
+necessarily produces brilliancy. Nature is a great deceiver; she draws
+us on to admire her insinuating charms, and in the contemplation of them
+we lose our energy.
+
+Christian had been born and bred in cities. The din and roar of life was
+to him what the voice of the sea is to the sailor. In the midst of
+crowded humanity he was in his element, and as he walked rapidly along
+he made his way dexterously through the narrow places without thinking
+of it. While meditating deeply he was by no means absorbed. In his
+active life there had been no time for thoughts beyond the present, no
+leisure for dreaming. He could not afford to be absent-minded. Numbers
+of men are so situated. Their minds are required at all moments, in full
+working order, clear and rapid--ready, shoes on feet and staff in hand,
+to go whithersoever they may be called.
+
+Although he was going to the saddest home that ever hung like a
+mill-stone round a young neck, Christian wasted no time. The glory of
+the western sky lay ruddily over the river as he emerged from the small
+streets behind Chelsea and faced the broad placid stream. Presently he
+stopped opposite the door of a small red-brick house, which formed the
+corner of a little terrace facing the river and a quiet street running
+inland from it.
+
+With a latch-key he admitted himself noiselessly--almost
+surreptitiously. Once inside he closed the door without unnecessary
+sound and stood for some moments in the dark little entrance-hall,
+apparently listening.
+
+Presently a voice broke the silence of the house. A querulous,
+high-pitched voice, quavering with the palsy of extreme age. The sound
+of it was no new thing for Christian Vellacott. To-night his lips gave a
+little twist of pain as he heard it. The door of the room on the ground
+floor was open, and he could hear the words distinctly enough.
+
+"You know, Mrs. Strawd, we have a nephew, but he is always gadding
+about, I am sure; he has been a terrible affliction to us. A frothy,
+good-for-nothing boy--that is what he is. We have not set eyes on him
+for a month or more. Why, I almost forget his name!"
+
+"Christian, that is his name--a most inappropriate one, I am sure,"
+chimed in another voice, almost identical in tone. "Why Walter should
+have given him such a name I cannot tell. Ah! sister Judith, things are
+different from what they used to be when we were younger!"
+
+The frothy one outside the door seemed in no great degree impressed by
+these impartial views upon himself, though the pained look was still
+upon his lips as he turned to hang up his hat.
+
+"He's coming home to-night, though, Miss Judith," said another voice, in
+a coaxing, wheedling tone, such as one uses towards petulant children.
+"He's coming home to-night, sure enough!" It was a pleasant voice, with
+a strong, capable ring about it. One instinctively felt that the
+possessor of it was a woman to be relied upon at a crisis.
+
+"Is he now--is he now?" said the first speaker reflectively. "Well, I am
+sure it is time he did. We will just give him a lesson, eh, sister
+Hester?--we will give him a lesson, shall we not?"
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a little woman, quiet though
+somewhat anxious looking, came out. She evinced no surprise at the sight
+of the good-for-nothing nephew in the dimly-lighted passage, greeting
+him in a low voice.
+
+"How have they been to-day, nurse?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, they have been well enough, Master Christian," was the reply, in a
+cheerful undertone.
+
+"Aunt Judith has 'most got rid of her cold. But they've been very
+trying, sir--just like children, as wilful as could be--the same
+question over and over again till I was fit to cry. They are quieter
+now, but--but it's you they're abusing now, Master Chris!"
+
+The young fellow looked down into the little woman's face. His eyes were
+sympathetic enough, but he said nothing. With a little nod and a
+suppressed sigh he turned away from her. He laid his hand upon the door
+and then stopped.
+
+"As soon as you have brought up tea," he said, looking back, "I will
+take them for the evening, and you can have your rest as usual."
+
+From the room came, at intervals, the ring of silver, as if some one
+were moving the spoons and forks from the table. Christian waited until
+these sounds had ceased before he entered.
+
+"Good evening, Aunt Judith. Good evening, Aunt Hester," he said
+cheerily.
+
+They were exactly alike, these two old ladies; the same marvellously
+wrinkled features and silver hair; voluminous caps and white woollen
+shawls identical. With exaggerated marks of respect he kissed each by
+turn on her withered cheek.
+
+"May I sit down, Aunt Judith?" he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer drew a chair towards the fireplace, where a small fire burnt
+though it was the month of August.
+
+"Yes, Nephew Vellacott, you may take a seat," replied Aunt Judith with
+chill severity, "and you may also tell us where you have been during the
+last four weeks."
+
+Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
+farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
+mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
+old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.
+
+"Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
+doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us--us who support
+you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your
+back--leaving us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us,
+pray--what are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?"
+
+"What?" exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, "have the spoons
+gone--?" he almost said "again," but checked himself in time. He turned
+to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every piece of
+silver.
+
+"There, you see!" quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
+ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
+and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
+Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
+tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of
+a sick-nurse.
+
+"How did it occur?" he asked, when the old lady had recovered.
+
+"There, you see," remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of
+her accomplice.
+
+"I _am_ sure!" panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.
+
+"I _am_ sure!" echoed Aunt Hester.
+
+They allowed their nephew's remorse full scope, and then proceeded
+laboriously to extract the missing articles from the side of Aunt
+Judith's arm-chair. This farce was rehearsed every night, nearly word
+for word. A pleasant recreation for an intellectual man, assuredly. The
+only relief to the monotony was the occasional loss of a spoon in the
+crevice between the arm and the seat of Aunt Judith's chair. Then
+followed such a fumbling and a "dear me-ing" until the worthless nephew
+was perforce called to the rescue, to fish and probe with a paper-knife
+till the lost treasure was recovered.
+
+"We only wished, Nephew Vellacott, to show you what might have happened
+during your unconscionable absence. Servants are only too ready to talk
+to the first comer of their mistresses' wealth and position. They have
+no discrimination." said Aunt Judith in a reproving tone. The old ladies
+were very fond of boasting of their wealth and position, whereas, in
+reality, their nephew was the only barrier between them and the
+workhouse.
+
+"Well, Aunt Judith," replied Christian patiently, "I will try and stay
+at home more in future. But you know it is time I was doing something to
+earn my own livelihood now. I cannot exist on your kindness all my
+life!"
+
+He had learnt to humour these two silly old women. During the two years
+which had just passed he had gradually recognised the utter futility of
+endeavouring to make them realise the true state of their affairs. They
+spoke grandiloquently of the family solicitor: a man who had been in his
+grave for nearly a quarter of a century. It was simply impossible to
+instil into their minds any fact whatever, and such facts as had
+established themselves there were permanent. They belonged to another
+generation, and their mode of thought was a remnant of a forgotten and
+unsatisfactory period. To them Napoleon the First was a living man,
+Queen Victoria unheard of. The decay of their minds had been slow, and
+it had been Christian Vellacott's painful task to watch its steady
+progress. Day by day he had followed the gradual failing of each sense
+and power.
+
+There is something pathetic about the decay of a mind which has been
+driven to death by constant work, but there is a compensating thought to
+alleviate the sadness. It may rattle and grow loose, like some worn-out
+engine, where the friction presses; but it will work till it collapses
+totally, and some of the work achieved is good and permanent. It is
+bound to be so. Infinitely sadder is the sight of a mind which is
+falling to pieces by reason of the rust that has eaten into its very
+core. For rust must needs mean idleness--and no human intellect
+_need_ be idle. So it had been with these two old ladies. Born in a
+wofully unintellectual age, they had never left a certain groove in
+life. When their brother married Christian Vellacott's grandmother, they
+had left his house in Honiton to go and live in Bodmin upon a limited
+but sufficient income. These "sufficient incomes" are a curse; they do
+not allow of charity and make no call for labour.
+
+When Christian Vellacott arrived in England, an orphan with no great
+wealth, he made it his first duty to visit the only living relations he
+possessed. He was just in time to save them, literally, from starvation.
+It was obvious that he could not make a literary livelihood in Bodmin,
+so he made a home for the two old wrecks of humanity in London. Their
+means, like their minds, were simply exhausted. Aunt Judith was
+ninety-three; Aunt Hester ninety-one. During that vast blank (for blank
+it was, so far as their lives were concerned) stretching away back into
+a perspective of time which few around them could gauge--they had never
+been separated for one day. Like two apples they had grown side by side,
+until their very contact had engendered disease--a slow, deadly,
+creeping rot, finding its source at the point of contact, reaching its
+goal at the heart of each. They had _existed_ thus with terrible
+longevity--lived a mere animal life of sleeping and eating, such as
+hundreds of women are living around us now.
+
+"Of course, you must learn to make your daily bread, Nephew Vellacott!"
+answered Aunt Hester. "The desire does you credit; but you should be
+careful into what society you go without us. Girls are very designing,
+and many a one would like to marry a nephew of mine--eh, Judith?"
+
+"Yes, that they would," replied the old lady. "The minxes know that they
+might do worse than catch the nephew of Judith and Hester Vellacott!"
+
+"Look at us," continued Aunt Hester, drawing up her shrunken old form
+with a touch of pride. "Look at us? We have always avoided marriage, and
+we are very nice and happy, I am sure!"
+
+She waited for a confirmation of this bold statement, but Christian was
+not listening. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his
+knees, gazing into the fire. He was recalling the conversation which had
+passed in the little room in the Strand. Could he leave these two
+helpless old creatures. Could he get away from it all for a little
+time--away from the maddening prattle of unguided tongues, from the
+dread monotony of hopeless watching? He knew that he was wasting his
+manhood, neglecting his intellectual opportunities, and endangering his
+career; but his course of duty was marked out with terrible
+distinctness. He never saw the pathos of it, as a woman would have seen
+it, gathering perhaps some slight alleviation from the sight. It never
+entered his thoughts to complain, and he never conceived the idea of
+drawing comparisons between his position and that of other young men
+who, instead of being slaves to their relatives, made very good use of
+them. He merely went on doing his obvious duty and striving not to look
+forward too eagerly to a release at some future period.
+
+Fortunately, Mrs. Strawd was not long in bringing in the simple evening
+meal; and the attention of the old ladies was at once turned to the
+mystery hidden beneath the dish-cover. What was it, and would there be
+enough for Nephew Vellacott?
+
+Deftly, Christian poured out the tea. Two cups very weak and one
+stronger. Then two thin slices of crustless bread had to be buttered.
+This operation required great judgment and impartiality.
+
+"Excuse me, Nephew Vellacott!" said Aunt Judith, with dangerous
+severity. "Is that first slice intended for Aunt Hester? It appears to
+me that the butter is very thick--much thicker than on the second, which
+is doubtless intended for me!"
+
+"Do you think so, Aunt Judith?" asked Christian in a voice purposely
+loud in order to drown Aunt Hester's remonstrance. "Then I will take a
+little off!" He passed the knife harmlessly over the faulty slice, and
+laid the two side by side upon a plate. Then the old ladies promptly
+held a survey on them--that declared to be more heavily buttered being
+awarded to Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority.
+
+With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly
+despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the
+property of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament. The
+part he played in the domestic economy of the small household was a
+contemplative rather than an active one. Mick, Aunt Hester's bird, was
+of a more lively nature. He had, as a rule, something to say upon all
+subjects--and said it.
+
+Now Aunt Hester, in her inmost heart, loved a silent bird, and secretly
+coveted Dick, but as Mick was her property, and Dick the silent was
+owned by Aunt Judith, she never lost an opportunity of enlarging upon
+the stupidity and uselessness of silent birds. Aunt Judith, on the other
+hand, admired a lively and talkative canary; consequently she was
+weighed down with the conviction that her sister's bird was the superior
+article. Altogether, birds as a topic of conversation were best avoided.
+Dick and Mick were housed in cages of similar build--indeed, most things
+were strictly in duplicate in the whole household. Every evening
+Christian brought the cages, and Aunt Judith and Aunt Hester carefully
+placed within the wires a small piece of bread-and-butter, which Nurse
+Strawd as carefully removed, untouched, the next morning.
+
+When the birds' wants had been attended to, it was Christian's duty to
+settle the old ladies comfortably in their respective arm-chairs. This
+he did tenderly and cleverly as a woman, but it was not a pleasant sight
+to look upon. The man, with his lean, strong face, long jaw, and
+prominent chin, was so obviously out of place. These peaceful duties
+were never meant for such as he. His somewhat closely-set eyes were not
+such as wax tender over drowning flies, for even in repose they were
+somewhat direct and stern in their gaze. In fact, Christian Vellacott
+was so visibly created for strife and the forefront of life's battle,
+that it was almost painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful
+avocation.
+
+As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for
+an hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with
+the deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was
+their hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although
+they dozed in their chairs.
+
+He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
+touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and
+drowsily for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the
+room. Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys.
+Aunt Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on
+playing. Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds
+seemed to fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering.
+Silently the player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at
+the table from which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink,
+and paper were within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the
+following note:--
+
+"DEAR SIDNEY,--May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
+your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather
+than offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier
+way of spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly
+old Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,
+
+"CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT."
+
+He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed
+to "Sidney Carew, Esq., St. Mary Western, Dorset." Then he slipped
+noiselessly out of the room and upstairs to where Mrs. Strawd had a
+small sitting-room of her own. The little woman heard his footstep on
+the old creaking stairs, and opened the door of her room before he
+reached it.
+
+"If I went away for three weeks," he said, "could you do without me?"
+
+"Of course I could," replied the little woman readily. "Just you go away
+and take a holiday, Master Christian. You need it sorely, that I know.
+You do indeed. We shall get on splendidly without you. I'll just have my
+sister to come and stay, same as I did when you had to go to the Paris
+House of Parliament."
+
+"I have not had much of a holiday, you see, for two years now!"
+
+"Of course you haven't, and you want it. It's only human nature--and you
+a young man that ought to be in the open air all day. For an old woman
+like me it's different. We're made differently by the good God on
+purpose, I think."
+
+"Well, then, if your sister comes it must be understood, nurse, that I
+make the same arrangement with her as exists with you. She must simply
+be a duplicate of you--you understand?"
+
+The little woman laughed, lightly enough.
+
+"Oh, yes, Master Christian, that is all right. But you need not have
+troubled about that. She never would have thought of such a thing as
+wages, I'm sure!"
+
+"No," replied he gravely, "I know she would not, but it will be better,
+I think, to have it understood beforehand. Gratitude is a very nice
+thing to work for, but some work is worth more than gratitude. If you
+are going out for your walk, perhaps you will post this letter."
+
+Before Christian went to bed that night he held a candle close to the
+mirror and looked long and hard at his own reflection. There were dark
+streaks under his eyes, his small mouth was drawn and dry, his lips
+colourless. At each temple the bone stood out rather prominently, and
+the skin was brilliant in its whiteness and reflected the light of the
+candle. He felt his own pulse. It was beating, at one moment fast and
+irregular, at the next it was hardly perceptible.
+
+"Yes!" he muttered, with a professional nod--in his training as a
+journalist he had learnt a little of many sciences--"yes, old Bodery was
+right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A REUNION
+
+
+The gentle August night had cooled and soothed the dusty atmosphere. All
+things looked fair, even in London. The placid Thames glided stealthily
+down to the sea, as if wishing to speed on unseen, to cast at last his
+reeking waters into the cool ocean. The bright brown sails, low hulls,
+and gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream
+added to the beauty of the scene.
+
+Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the
+door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man. When once
+he had made up his mind to go, every obstacle was thrown aside, and his
+determination was now as great as had been his previous reluctance. He
+had no presentiment that he was taking an important step in life--one of
+those steps which we hardly notice at the time, but upon which we look
+back in after years and note how clear and definite it was, losing
+ourselves in vague conjecture as to what might have been had we held
+back.
+
+Christian being practical in all things, knew how to travel comfortably,
+dispensing with rugs and bags and such small packages as are understood
+to be dear to the elderly single female heart.
+
+The smoky suburbs were soon left behind, and the smiling land gave forth
+such gentle, pastoral odours as only long confinement in cities can
+teach us to detect. Christian lowered the window, and the warm air
+played round him as it had not done for two long years. The whizz of the
+wind past his face brought back the memory of the long, idle, happy days
+spent with his father in the Mediterranean, when they had been half
+sailors and wholly Bohemians, gliding from port to port, village to
+city, in their yacht, as free and careless as the wind. The warm breeze
+almost seemed to be coming to him from some parched Italian plain
+instead of pastoral Buckinghamshire.
+
+Then his thoughts travelled still further back to his school-days in
+Prague, when his father and Mr. Carew were colleagues in a brilliant but
+unfortunate embassy. Five years had passed since then. The two fathers
+were now dead, and the children had dropped apart as men and women do
+when their own personal interests begin to engross them. Now again, in
+this late summer time, they were to meet. All, that is, who were left.
+The _debris_, as it were. Three voices there were whose tones would
+never more be heard in the round of merry jest. Mr. Carew, Walter
+Vellacott (Uncle Walter, the young ones called him), and little Charlie
+Carew, the bright-eyed sailor of the family, had all three travelled on.
+The two former, whose age and work achieved had softened their
+departure, were often spoken of with gently lowered voice, but little
+Charlie's name was never mentioned. It was a fatal mistake--this
+silence--if you will; but it was one of those mistakes which are often
+made in wisdom. In splendid, solitary grandeur he lay awaiting the end
+of all things--the call of his Creator--in the grey ice-fields of the
+North. The darling of his ship, he had died with a smile in his blue
+eyes and a sad little jest upon his lips to cheer the rough fur-clad
+giants kneeling at his side. Time, the merciful, had healed, as best he
+could (which is by no means perfectly), the wound in the younger hearts.
+It is only the old that are quite beyond his powers; he cannot touch
+them. Mrs. Carew, a woman with a patient face and a ready smile, was the
+only representative of the vanishing generation. Her daughters--ay! and
+perhaps her sons as well (though boys are not credited with so much
+tender divination)--knew the meaning of the little droop at the side of
+their mother's smiling lips. They detected the insincerity of her kindly
+laugh.
+
+Shortly after leaving Exeter, Christian's station was reached. This was
+an old-fashioned seaport town, whose good fortune it was to lie too far
+west for a London watering-place, and too far east for Plymouth or
+Bristol. Sidney Carew was on the platform--a sturdy, typical Englishman,
+with a certain sure slowness of movement handed down to him by seafaring
+ancestors. The two friends had not met for many years, but with men
+absence has little effect upon affection. During the space of many years
+they may never meet and seldom write, but at the end that gulf of time
+is bridged over by a simple "Halloa, old fellow!" and a warm grip.
+Slowly, piece by piece, the history of the past years comes out. Both
+are probably changed in thought and nature, but the old individuality
+remains, the old bond of friendship survives.
+
+"Well, Sidney?"
+
+"How are you?"
+
+Simultaneously--and that was all. The changes were there in both, and
+noted by both, but not commented upon.
+
+"Molly is outside with the dog-cart," said Sidney; "is your luggage
+forward?"
+
+"Yes, that is it being pitched out now."
+
+It was with womanly foresight that Miss Molly Carew had elected to wait
+outside with the dog-cart while her brother met Christian on the
+platform. She feared a little natural embarrassment at meeting the old
+playfellow of the family, and concluded that the first moments would be
+more easily tided over here than at the train. Her fears were, as it
+turned out, unnecessary, but she did not know what Christian might be
+like after the lapse of years. Of herself she was sure enough, being one
+of those happy people who have no self-consciousness whatever.
+
+On seeing her, Christian came forward at once, raising his hat and
+shaking hands as if they had parted the day before.
+
+She saw at once that it was all right. This was Christian Vellacott as
+she had remembered him. She looked down at him as he stood with one hand
+resting on the splashboard, and he, looking up to her, smiled in return.
+
+"Christian," she said, "do you know I should scarcely have recognised
+you. You are so big, and--and you look positively ghastly!" She finished
+her remark with a little laugh which took away from the spoken meaning
+of it.
+
+"Ghastly?" he replied. "Thanks: I do not feel like it--only hungry.
+Hungry, and desperately glad to see a face that does not look
+overworked."
+
+"Meaning me."
+
+"Meaning you."
+
+She gave a little sarcastic nod, and pursed up a pair of very red lips.
+
+"Nevertheless I am the only person in the house who does any work at
+all. Hilda, for instance--"
+
+At this moment Sidney came up and interrupted them.
+
+"Jump up in front, Chris," he said; "Molly will drive, while I sit
+behind. Your luggage will follow in the cart."
+
+The drive of six miles passed away very pleasantly. Molly's strong
+little hands were quite accustomed to the reins, and the men were free
+to talk, which, however, she found time to do as well. The two young
+people on the front seat stole occasional sidelong glances at each
+other. The clever, mischievous little girl of Christian's recollection
+was transformed by the kindly hand of time into a fascinating and
+capable young lady. The uncertain profile had grown clear and regular.
+The truant hair was somewhat more under control, which, however, was all
+that could be said upon that subject. Only her eyes were unchanged, the
+laughing, fearless eyes of old. Fearless they had been in the times of
+childish mischief and adventure; fearless they remained in the face of
+life's graver mischances now.
+
+Christian had been a shy and commonplace-enough boy as she recollected
+him. Now she found a self-possessed man of the world. Tall and strong of
+body she saw he was, and she felt that he possessed another strength--a
+strength of mind and will which, reaching out, can grasp and hold
+anything or everything.
+
+With practised skill, Molly turned into the narrow gateway at a swinging
+trot, and then only was the house visible--a low, rambling building of
+brick and stone uncouthly mixed. Its chief outward characteristic was a
+promise of inward comfort. The sturdy manner in which its windows faced
+the scantily-wooded tableland that stretched away unbroken by wall or
+hedgerow to the sea, implied a certain thickness of wall and woodwork.
+The doorway which looked inland was singularly broad, and bore signs
+about its stonework of having once been even broader. The house had
+originally been a hollow square, with a roofless courtyard in the
+centre, into which the sheep and cattle were in olden times driven for
+safety at night against French marauders. This had later on been roofed
+in, and transformed into a roomy and comfortable hall, such as might be
+used as a sitting-room. All around the house, except, indeed, upon the
+sea-ward side, stood gnarled and twisted trees; Scotch firs in
+abundance, here and there a Weymouth pine, and occasionally a knotted
+dwarf oak with a tendency to run inland. The garden was, however, rich
+enough in shrubs and undergrowth, and to the landward side was a gleam
+of still water, being all that remained of a broad, deep moat.
+
+Mrs. Carew welcomed Christian at the open door. She said very little,
+but her manner was sufficiently warm and friendly to dispense with
+words.
+
+"Where is Hilda?" asked Molly, as she leapt lightly to the ground.
+
+"I do not know, dear. She is out, somewhere; in the garden, I expect.
+You are before your time a little. The train must have been punctual,
+for a wonder. Had Hilda known, she would have been here to welcome you,
+I know, Christian."
+
+"I expect she is at the moat," said Molly. "Come along, Christian; we
+will go and look for her. This way."
+
+In the meantime Sidney had driven the dog-cart round to the stables,
+kneeling awkwardly upon the back seat.
+
+As Christian followed his fair guide down the little path leading to the
+moat, he began to feel that it was not so difficult after all to throw
+off the dull weight of anxiety that lay upon his mind. The thoughts
+about the _Beacon_ were after all not so very absorbing. The
+anxiety regarding the welfare of the two old ladies was already
+alleviated by distance. The strong sea air, the change to pleasant and
+kindly society, were already beginning their work.
+
+Suddenly Molly stopped, and Christian saw that she was standing at the
+edge of a long, still sheet of water bounded by solid stonework, which,
+however, was crumbling away in parts, while everywhere the green moss
+grew in velvety profusion.
+
+"Oh, Christian," said Molly lightly, "I suppose Sidney told you a little
+of our news. Men's letters are not discursive as a rule I know, but no
+doubt he told you--something."
+
+He was standing beside her at the edge of the moat, looking down into
+the deep, clear water.
+
+"Yes," he replied slowly, "yes, Molly; he told me a little in a scrappy,
+unsatisfactory way."
+
+A pained expression came into her eyes for a moment, and then she spoke,
+rather more quickly than was habitual with her, but without raising her
+voice.
+
+"He told you--nothing about Hilda?" she said interrogatively.
+
+He turned and looked down at her.
+
+"No--nothing."
+
+Then he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw approaching them a
+young man and a maiden whose footsteps had been inaudible upon the
+moss-grown path. The man was of medium height, with an honest brown
+face. He was dressed for riding, and walked with a slight swagger, which
+arose less from conceit than from excessive riding on horseback. The
+maiden was tall and stately, and in her walk there was an old-fashioned
+grace of movement which harmonised perfectly with the old-world
+surroundings. She was looking down, and Christian could not see her
+face; but as she wore no hat, he saw and recognised her hair. This was
+of gold--not red, not auburn, not flaxen, but pure and living gold. The
+sun glinting through the trees shone upon it and gleamed, but in reality
+the hair gleamed without the aid of sunlight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+BROKEN THREADS
+
+
+They came forward, and suddenly the girl raised her face. She made a
+little hesitating movement of non-recognition, and then suddenly her
+face was transformed by a very pleasant smile. There was something
+peculiar in Hilda Carew's smile, which came from the fact that her
+eyelashes were golden, while her eyes were dark blue. The effect
+suggested a fascinating kitten. In repose her face was almost severe in
+its refined beauty, and the set of her lips indicated a certain
+self-reliance which with years might become more prominent if trouble
+should arrive.
+
+"Christian!" she exclaimed, "I am sorry I did not know you." They shook
+hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.
+
+"Mr. Farrar," she said; "Mr. Vellacott."
+
+The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
+Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking
+contradiction to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.
+
+"Tea is ready," said Molly somewhat hastily; "let us go in."
+
+Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
+followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion
+found herself compelled to wait for him.
+
+"Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,"
+said he in a conversational way; "it is quite green, and almost
+transparent."
+
+"Yes," replied Molly, moving away tentatively, "we see most peculiar
+effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep."
+
+He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
+lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
+truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
+cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.
+
+"Yes," he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether
+the action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At
+length he turned to follow her, but Molly had failed in her object; the
+others had passed out of earshot.
+
+"Tell me," said Christian in a lowered voice, "who is he?"
+
+"He is the squire of St. Mary Eastern, six miles from here," she
+replied; "very well off; very good to his mother, and in every way
+nice."
+
+Christian tore off a small branch which would have touched his forehead
+had he walked on without stooping. He broke it into small pieces, and
+continued throwing up at intervals into the air a tiny stick, hitting it
+with his hand as they walked on.
+
+"And," he said suggestively, "and--"
+
+"Yes, Christian," she replied decisively, "they are engaged. Come, let
+us hurry; I always pour out the tea. I told you before, if you remember,
+that I was the only person in the house who did any work."
+
+When Christian opened his eyes the following morning, the soft hum of
+insects fell on his ear instead of the roar of London traffic. Through
+the open window the southern air blew upon his face. Above the sound of
+busy wings the distant sea sang its low dirge. It was a living
+perspective of sound. The least rustle near at hand overpowered it, and
+yet it was always there--an unceasing throb to be felt as much as heard.
+Some acoustic formation of the land carried the noise, for the sea was
+eight miles away. It was very peaceful; for utter stillness is not
+peace. A room wherein an old clock ticks is infinitely more soothing
+than a noiseless chamber.
+
+Nevertheless the feeling that forced itself into Christian Vellacott's
+waking thoughts was not peaceful. It was a sense of discomfort.
+Town-people expect too much from the country--that is the truth of it.
+They quite overlook the fact that where human beings are there can be no
+peace.
+
+This sudden sense of restlessness annoyed him. He knew it so well. It
+had hovered over his waking head almost daily during the last two years,
+and here, in the depths of the country, he had expected to be without
+it. Moreover, he was conscious that he had not brought the cause with
+him. He had found it, waiting.
+
+There were many things--indeed there was almost everything--to make his
+life happy and pleasant at St. Mary Western. But in his mind, as he woke
+up on this first morning, none of these things found place. He came to
+his senses thinking of the one little item which could be described as
+untoward--thinking of Hilda, and Hilda engaged to be married to Fred
+Farrar. It was not that he was in love with Hilda Carew himself. He had
+scarcely remembered her existence during the last two years. But this
+engagement jarred, and Farrar jarred. It was something more than the
+very natural shock which comes with the news that a companion of our
+youth is about to be married--shock which seems to shake the memory of
+that youth; to confuse the background of our life. It is by means of
+such shocks as these that Fate endeavours vainly to make us realise that
+the past is irrevocable--that we are passing on, and that that which has
+been can never be again. And at the same time we learn something else:
+namely, that the past is not by any means unchangeable. So potential is
+To-day that it not only holds To-morrow in the hollow of its hand, but
+it can alter Yesterday.
+
+Christian Vellacott lay upon his bed in unwonted idleness, gazing
+vaguely at the flying clouds. The window was open, and the song of the
+distant sea rose and fell with a rhythm full of peace. But in this man's
+mind there was no peace. In all probability there never would be
+complete peace there, because Ambition had set its hold upon him. He
+wanted to do more than there was time for. Like many of us, he began by
+thinking that Life is longer than it is. Its whole length is in those
+"long, long thoughts" of Youth. When those are left behind, we settle
+down to work, and the rest of the story is nothing but labour. Vellacott
+resented this engagement because he felt that Hilda Carew had stepped
+out of that picture which formed what was probably destined to be the
+happiest time of his life--his Youth. For the unhappiness of Youth is
+preferable to the resignation of Age. He felt that she had willingly
+resigned something which he would on no account have given up. Above
+all, he felt that it was a mistake. This was, of course, at the bottom
+of it. He probably felt that it was a pity. We usually feel so on
+hearing that a pretty and charming girl is engaged to be married. We
+think that she might have done so much better for herself, and we grow
+pensive or possibly sentimental over her lost opportunity when
+contemplating him in the mirror as he shaves. Like all so-called happy
+events, an engagement is not usually a matter of universal rejoicing.
+Some one is, in all probability, left to think twice about it. But
+Christian Vellacott was not prepared to admit that he was in that
+position.
+
+He was naturally of an observant habit--his father had been
+one of the keenest-sighted men of his day--and he had graduated at the
+subtlest school in the world. He unwittingly fell to studying his
+fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of
+this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little
+scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically
+pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his
+clients.
+
+With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note. The
+squire of St. Mary Eastern was apparently very similar to his fellows.
+He was an ordinary young British squire with a knowledge of horses and a
+highly-developed fancy for smart riding-breeches and long boots. He had
+probably received a fair education, but this had ceased when he closed
+his last school-book. The seeds of knowledge had been sown, but they
+lacked moisture and had failed to grow. He was good-natured, plucky in a
+hard-headed British way, and gentlemanly. In all this there was nothing
+exceptional--nothing to take note of--and Vellacott only remembered the
+limpness of Frederick Farrar's grasp. He thought of this too
+persistently and magnified it. And this being the only mental note made,
+was rather hard on the young squire of St. Mary Eastern.
+
+Vellacott thought of these things while he dressed, he thought of them
+intermittently during the unsettled, noisy, country breakfast, and when
+he found himself walking beside the moat with Hilda later on he was
+still thinking of them.
+
+They had not yet gathered into their hands the threads which had been
+broken years before. At times they hit upon a topic of some slight
+common interest, but something hovered in the air between them. Hilda
+was gay, as she had always been, in a gentle, almost purring way; but a
+certain constrained silence made itself felt at times, and they were
+both intensely conscious of it.
+
+Vellacott was fully aware that there was something to be got over, and
+so instead of skipping round it, as a woman might have done, he went
+blundering on to the top of it.
+
+"Hilda," he said suddenly, "I have never congratulated you."
+
+She bent her head in a grave little bow which was not quite English; but
+she said nothing.
+
+"I can only wish you all happiness," he continued rather vaguely.
+
+Again she made that mystic little motion of the head, but did not look
+towards him, and never offered the assistance of smile or word.
+
+"A long life, a happy one, and your own will," he added more lightly,
+looking down into the green water of the moat.
+
+"Thank you," she said, standing quite still beside him.
+
+And then there followed an awkward pause. It was Vellacott who finally
+broke the silence in the only way left to him.
+
+"I like Farrar," he said. "I am sure he will make you happy. He--is a
+lucky fellow."
+
+At the end of the walk that ran the whole length of that part of the
+moat which had been allowed to remain intact, she made a little movement
+as if to turn aside beneath the hazel trees and towards the house. But
+he would not let her go. He turned deliberately upon his heel and waited
+for her. There was nothing else to do but acquiesce. They retraced their
+steps with that slow reflectiveness which comes when one walks backwards
+and forwards over the same ground.
+
+There is something eminently conversational in the practice of walking
+to and fro. For that purpose it is better than an arm-chair and a pipe,
+or a piece of knitting.
+
+Occasionally Vellacott dropped a pace behind, apparently with a purpose;
+for when he did so he raised his eyes instantly. He seemed to be slowly
+detailing the maiden, and he frowned a little. She was exactly what she
+had promised to be. The singularly golden hair which he had last seen
+flowing freely over her slight young shoulders had acquired a
+decorousness of curve, although the hue was unchanged. The shoulders
+were exactly the same in contour, on a slightly larger scale; and the
+manner of carrying her head--a manner peculiarly her own, and suggestive
+of a certain gentle wilfulness--was unaltered.
+
+And yet there was a change: that subtle change which seems to come to
+girls suddenly, in the space of a week--of one night. And this man was
+watching her with his analytical eyes, wondering what the change might
+be.
+
+He was more or less a bookworm, and he possibly thought that this
+subject--this pleasant young subject walking beside him in a blue cotton
+dress--was one which might easily be grasped and understood if only one
+gave one's mind to it. Hence the little frown. It denoted the gift of
+his mind. It was the frown that settled over his eyes when he cut the
+pages of a deep book and glanced at the point of his pencil.
+
+He had read many books, and he knew a number of things. But there is one
+subject of which very little can be learnt in books--precisely the
+subject that walked in a blue cotton dress by Christian Vellacott's side
+at the edge of the moat. If any one thinks that book-learning can aid
+this study, let him read the ignorance of Gibbon, comparing it with the
+learning of that cheery old ignoramus Montaigne. And Vellacott was
+nearer to Gibbon in his learning than to Montaigne in his careless
+ignorance of those things that are written in books.
+
+He glanced at her; he frowned and brought his whole attention to bear
+upon her, and he could not even find out whether she was pleased to
+listen to his congratulations, or angry, or merely indifferent. It was
+rather a humiliating position for a clever man--for a critic who knew
+himself to be capable of understanding most things, of catching the
+drift of most thoughts, however imperfectly expressed. He was vaguely
+conscious of defeat. He felt that he was nonplussed by a pair of soft
+round eyes like the eyes of a kitten, and the dignified repose of a pair
+of demure red lips. Both eyes and lips, as well as shoulders and golden
+hair, were strangely familiar and strangely strange by turns.
+
+With one finger he twisted the left side of his moustache into his
+mouth, and, dragging at it with his teeth, distorted his face in an
+unbecoming if reflective manner, which was habitually indicative of the
+deepest attention.
+
+While reflecting, he forgot to be conversational, and Hilda seemed to be
+content with silence. So they walked the length of the moat twice
+without speaking, and might have accomplished it a third time, had
+little Stanley Carew not appeared upon the scene with the impulsive
+energy of his thirteen years, begging Christian to bowl him some really
+swift overhands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+PUPPETS
+
+
+"Ah! It goes. It goes already!"
+
+The speaker--the Citizen Morot--slowly rubbed his white hands one over
+the other.
+
+He was standing at the window of a small house in an insignificant
+street on the southern side of the Seine. He was remarkably calm--quite
+the calmest man within the radius of a mile; for the insignificant
+little street was in an uproar. There was a barricade at each end of it.
+Such a barricade as Parisians love. It was composed of a few overturned
+omnibuses; for the true Parisian is a cynic. He likes overturned things,
+and he loves to see objects of peace converted to purposes of war. He is
+not content that ploughshares be beaten into swords. He prefers
+altar-rails. And so this little street was blocked at either end by a
+barricade of overturned omnibuses, of old hampers and empty boxes, of a
+few loads of second-hand bricks and paving-stones brought from the scene
+of some drainage operations round the corner.
+
+In the street between the barricades, surged, hooted, and yelled that
+wildest and most dangerous of incomprehensibles--a Paris mob.
+Half-a-dozen orators were speaking at once, and no one was listening to
+them. Here and there amidst the rabble a voice was raised at times with
+suspicious persistence.
+
+"_Vive le Roi!_" it cried. "Long live the King!"
+
+A few took up the refrain, but the general tone was negative. It was not
+so much a question of upholding anything as of throwing down that which
+was already up.
+
+"Down with the Republic!" was the favourite cry. "Down with the
+President! Down with everything!"
+
+And each man cried down his favourite enemy.
+
+The Citizen Morot listened, and his contemptuous mouth was twisted with
+a delicate, subtle smile.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered. "The voice of the people. The howling of the wolves.
+Go on, go on, my braves. Cry 'Long live the King,' and soon you will
+begin to believe that you mean it. They are barking now. Let them bark.
+Soon we shall teach them to bite, and then--then, who knows?"
+
+His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he stood there amidst the din
+and hubbub--dreaming. At last he raised his hand to his forehead--a
+prominent, rounded forehead, flat as the palm of one's hand from eyebrow
+to eyebrow, and curving at either side, sharply, back to deep-sunken
+temples.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a little laugh; and he drew from an inner
+pocket a delicately scented pocket-handkerchief, with which he wiped his
+brow. "If I get excited now, what will it be when they begin--to bite?"
+
+All this while the orators were shouting their loudest, and the voices
+dispersed throughout the crowd raised at intervals their short, sharp
+cry of--
+
+"Long live the King!"
+
+And the police? There were only two agents attached to the immediate
+neighbourhood, and they were smoking cigars and drinking absinthe in two
+separate cellars, with the door locked on the outside. They were
+prisoners of war of the most resigned type. The room in which stood the
+Citizen Morot was dark, and wisely so. For the Parisian street
+politician can make very pretty practice of a lighted petroleum-lamp
+with an empty bottle or half a brick. The window was wide open, and the
+wooden shutters were hooked back.
+
+The attitude of the man was interested and slightly self-satisfied. It
+suggested that of the manager of a theatre looking down from an
+upper-tier box upon a full house and a faultless stage. At the same time
+he was keeping what sailors call a very "bright look-out" towards either
+end of the street. From his elevated position he was able to see over
+the barricades, and he watched with intense interest the movements of
+two women (or perhaps men disguised as such) who stood in the centre of
+the street just beyond each obstruction.
+
+There was something dramatic in the motionless attitude of these two
+women, standing guard alone in the deserted street, on the wrong side of
+the barricades.
+
+At times Morot leant well out of the window and listened. Then he stood
+back again and contemplated the crowd.
+
+Each orator was illuminated by a naphtha "flare," which, being held in
+unsteady hands, flickered and wavered, casting strange gleams of light
+over the evil faces upturned towards it. At times one speaker would
+succeed in raising a laugh or extracting a groan, and when he did so
+those listening to his rivals turned and surged towards him. There was
+plenty of movement. It was what the newspapers call an animated
+scene--or a disgraceful scene--according to their political bias.
+
+The Citizen Morot could not hear the jokes nor distinguish the cause of
+the groaning. But he did not seem to mind much. The speeches were not of
+the description to be given in full in the morning papers. There were,
+fortunately, no reporters present. It was the frank eloquence of the
+slaughter-house--the unclad humour of the market.
+
+Suddenly one of the women--she who was posted at the southern end of the
+street--raised both her arms, and the Citizen leant far out of the
+window. He was very eager, and his hawk-like eyes blinked perpetually.
+His hand was raised to his mouth, and the lights of the orators gleamed
+on something that he held in his fingers--something that looked like
+silver.
+
+The woman held her two arms straight up into the air for some moments,
+then she suddenly crossed them twice, turning at the same moment and
+scrambling over the barricade. A long shrill whistle rang out over the
+heads of the mob, and its effect was almost instantaneous. The "flares"
+disappeared like magic. Dark figures swarmed up the lamp-posts and
+extinguished the feeble lights. The voice of the orator was still.
+Silence and darkness reigned over that insignificant little street on
+the southern side of the Seine. Then came the clatter of cavalry--the
+rattle of horses' feet, and the ominous clank of empty scabbards against
+spur and buckle. A word of command, and a scrambling halt. Then silence
+again, broken only by the shuffling of feet (not too well clad) in the
+darkness between the barricades.
+
+The Citizen Morot leant recklessly out of the window, peering into
+the gloom. He forgot to make use of the delicately scented
+pocket-handkerchief now, and the drops of perspiration trickled slowly
+down his face.
+
+The soldiers shuffled in their saddles. Some of the spirited little
+Arabs pawed the pavement. One of them squealed angrily, and there was a
+slight commotion somewhere in the rear ranks--an equine difference of
+opinion. The officers had come forward to the barricade and were
+consulting together. The question was--what was there behind that
+barricade? It might be nothing--it might be everything. In Paris one can
+never tell. At last one of them determined to see for himself. He
+scrambled up, putting his foot through the window of an omnibus in
+passing. Against the dim light of the street-lamp beyond, his slight,
+straight figure stood out in bold relief. It was a splendid mark for a
+man with chalked sights to his rifle.
+
+"Ah!" muttered the Citizen, "you are all right this time--master, the
+young officer. They are only barking. Next time perhaps it will be quite
+another history."
+
+The officer turned and disappeared. After the lapse of a few moments a
+dozen words of command were shouted, and upon them followed the sharp
+click of hilt on scabbard as the sabres fell home.
+
+After a pause it became evident that the barricade was being destroyed.
+And then lights flashed here and there. In a compact column the cavalry
+advanced at a trot. The street was empty.
+
+Citizen Morot turned away and sat down on a chair that happened to be
+placed near the window. His finely-drawn eyebrows were raised with a
+questioning weariness.
+
+"Pretty work!" he ejaculated. "Pretty work for--my father's son! So
+grand, so open, so noble!"
+
+He waited there, in the darkness, until the cavalry had been withdrawn
+and the local firemen were at work upon the barricade. Then, when order
+was fully restored, he left the house, walking quietly down the length
+of the insignificant little street.
+
+Ten minutes later he entered the tobacco-shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe.
+Mr. Jacquetot was at his post, behind the counter near the window, with
+the little tin box containing postage-stamps in front of him upon his
+desk. He was always there--like the poor. He laid aside the _Petit
+Journal_ and wished the new-comer a courteous, though breathless,
+good evening.
+
+The salutation was returned gravely and pleasantly. The Citizen Morot
+lingered a moment and remarked that it was a warm evening. He never
+seemed to be in a hurry. Then he passed on into the little room behind
+the shop.
+
+There he found Lerac, the foreman of the slaughter-house. The butcher
+was pale with excitement. His rough clothing was dishevelled; his
+stringy black hair stood up uncouthly in the centre of his head, while
+over his temples it was plastered down with perspiration and suet
+pleasingly mingled.
+
+"Well?" he exclaimed, with triumphant interrogation.
+
+"Good," said Morot. "Very good. It marches, my friend. It marches
+already."
+
+"Ah! But you are right. The People see you--it is a power!"
+
+"It is," acquiesced Morot fervently.
+
+How he hated this man!
+
+"And you stayed to the last?" inquired Lerac. He was rather white about
+the lips for a brave man.
+
+"Till the last," echoed Morot, taking up some letters addressed to him
+which lay on the table.
+
+"And the street was quite clear before they broke through the barrier?"
+
+"Quite--the People did not wait." He seemed to resign himself to
+conversation, for he put the letters into his pocket and sat down. "Had
+you," he inquired, "any difficulty in getting them away?"
+
+"Oh no," somewhat loftily and quite unsuspicious of irony. "The passages
+were narrow, of course; but we had allowed for that in our organisation.
+Organisation and the People, see you--"
+
+"Yes," replied Morot. "Organisation and the People." Like Lerac, he
+stopped short, apparently lost in the contemplation of the vast
+possibilities presented to his mental vision by the mere thought of such
+a combination.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed the butcher energetically, "I must move on. I have
+meetings. I merely wished to hear from you that all was right--that no
+one was caught."
+
+He was bubbling over with excitement and the sense of his own huge
+importance.
+
+The Citizen Morot raised his secretive eyes.
+
+"Good-night," he said, with an insolence far too fine for the butcher's
+comprehension.
+
+"Well--good-night. We may congratulate ourselves, I think, Citizen!"
+
+"I congratulate you," said Morot. "Good-night."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+It is probable that, had Lerac looked back, there would have been murder
+done in the small room behind the tobacco-shop. But the contemptuous
+smile soon vanished from the face of the Citizen Morot. No smile
+lingered there long. It was not built upon smiling lines at all.
+
+Then he took up his letters. There were only two of them: one bearing
+the postmark of a small town in Morbihan, the other hailing from
+England.
+
+He replaced the first in his pocket unread; the second he opened. It was
+written in French.
+
+"There are difficulties," it said. "Can you come to me? Cross from
+Cherbourg to Southampton--train from thence to this place, and ask for
+Signor Bruno, an Italian refugee, living at the house of Mrs. Potter, a
+_ci-devant_ laundress."
+
+The Citizen Morot rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the back of his
+hand, making a sharp, grating sound.
+
+"That old man," he said, "is getting past his work. He is losing nerve;
+and nerve is a thing that we cannot afford to lose."
+
+Then he turned to the letter again.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly; "St. Mary Western. He is there--how very
+strange. What a singular coincidence!"
+
+He fell into a reverie with the letter before him.
+
+"Carew is dead--but still I can manage it. Perhaps it is just as well
+that he is dead. I was always afraid of Carew."
+
+Then he wrote a letter, which he addressed to "Signor Bruno, care of
+Mrs. Potter, St. Mary Western, Dorset."
+
+"I shall come," he wrote, "but not in the way you suggest. I have a
+better plan. You must not know me when we meet."
+
+He purchased a twenty-five centime stamp from Mr. Jacquetot, and posted
+the letter with his own hand in the little wall-box at the corner of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+FALSE METAL
+
+
+There was, however, no cricket for Stanley Carew that morning. When
+they came within sight of the house Mrs. Carew emerged from an open
+window carrying several letters in her hand. She was not hurrying, but
+walking leisurely, reading a letter as she walked.
+
+"Just think, Hilda dear," she said, with as much surprise as she ever
+allowed herself. "I have had a letter from the Vicomte d'Audierne. You
+remember him?"
+
+"Yes," said the girl; "I remember him, of course. He is not the sort of
+man one forgets."
+
+"I always liked the Viscount," said Mrs. Carew, pensively looking at the
+letter she held in her hand. "He was a good friend to us at one time. I
+never understood him, and I like men whom one does not understand."
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+"Yes," she answered vaguely.
+
+"Your father admired him tremendously," Mrs. Carew went on to say. "He
+said that he was one of the cleverest men in France, but that he had
+fallen in a wrong season, and would not adapt himself. Had France been a
+monarchy, the Vicomte d'Audierne would have been in a very different
+position."
+
+Vellacott did not open his own letters. He seemed to be interested in
+the conversation of these ladies. He was not a reserved man, but a
+secretive, which is quite a different thing. Reserve is natural--it
+comes unbidden, and often unwelcome. Secretiveness is born of
+circumstances. Some men find it imperative to cultivate it, although
+their soul revolts within them. In professional or social matters it is
+often merely an expediency--in some cases it almost feels like a crime.
+There are some secrets which cannot be divulged; there are some
+deceptions which a certain book-keeper will record upon the credit side
+of our account.
+
+Like most young men who have got on in their calling, Christian
+Vellacott held his career in great respect. He felt that any sacrifice
+made for it carried its own reward. He thought that it levelled scruples
+and justified deceptions.
+
+He knew this Vicomte d'Audierne by reputation; he wished to hear more of
+him; and so he feigned ignorance--listening.
+
+"What has he written about?" inquired Hilda.
+
+"To ask if he may come and see us. I suppose he means to come and stay."
+
+Vellacott looked what the French call "contraried."
+
+"When?" asked the girl.
+
+"On Monday week."
+
+And then Mrs. Carew turned to her other letters. Vellacott took the
+budget addressed to him, and walked away to where an iron table and some
+chairs stood in the shade of a deodar.
+
+In a few minutes he looked still more put out. He had learnt of the
+disturbances in Paris, and was reading a rather panic-stricken letter
+from Mr. Bodery. The truth was that there was no one in the office of
+the _Beacon_ who knew anything whatever about French home politics
+but Christian Vellacott.
+
+A continuance of these disturbances would necessarily assume political
+importance, and might even lead to a crisis. This meant an instant
+recall for Vellacott. In a crisis his presence in London or Paris was
+absolutely necessary to the _Beacon_.
+
+His holiday had barely lasted twenty-four hours, and there was already a
+question of recall. It happened also that within that short space a
+considerable change had come over Vellacott. The subtle influence of a
+country life, and possibly the low, peaceful song of the distant sea,
+were already beginning to make themselves felt. He actually detected a
+desire to sit still and do nothing--a feeling of which he had not
+hitherto been conscious. He was distinctly averse to leaving St. Mary
+Western just yet. But there is one task-master who knows no mercy and
+makes no allowances. Some of us who serve him know it to our cost, and
+yet we would be content to serve no other. That task-master is the
+Public.
+
+Vellacott was a public servant, and he knew his position.
+
+Somewhat later in the morning Molly and Hilda found him still seated at
+the table, writing with that concentrated rapidity which only comes with
+practice.
+
+"I am sorry," he said, looking up, "but I must send off a telegram. I
+shall walk in to the station."
+
+"I was just coming," said Hilda, "to ask if you would drive me in. I
+want to get some things."
+
+"And," added Molly, "there are some domestic commissions--butcher,
+baker, &c."
+
+Vellacott expressed his entire satisfaction with the arrangement, and by
+the time he had finished his letter the dog-cart was waiting at the
+door.
+
+Several of the family were standing round the vehicle talking in a
+desultory manner, and Vellacott learnt then for the first time that
+Frederick Farrar had left home that same morning to attend a midland
+race-meeting.
+
+It was one of those brilliant summer days when it is quite impossible to
+be pessimistic and exceedingly difficult to compass preoccupation. The
+light breeze bowling over the upland from the sea had just sufficient
+strength to blow away all mental cobwebs. Also, Christian Vellacott had
+suddenly given way to one of those feelings which sometimes come to us
+without apparent reason. The present was joyous enough without the aid
+of the ever-to-be-bright future, and Vellacott felt that, after all,
+French politics and Frederick Farrar did not quite monopolise the world.
+
+Hilda was on this occasion more talkative than usual. There was in her
+manner a new sense of ease, almost of familiarity, which Vellacott could
+not understand. He noticed that she spoke invariably in generalities,
+avoiding all personal matters. Of herself she said no word, though she
+appeared willing enough to answer any question he might ask. She led him
+on to talk of himself and his work, listening gravely to his account of
+the little household at Chelsea. He made the best of this topic, and
+even treated it in a merry vein; but her smile, though sincere enough,
+was of short duration and not in itself encouraging. She appeared to see
+the pathos of it instead of the humour. Suddenly, in the middle of a
+particularly funny story about Aunt Judith, she interrupted him and
+changed the conversation entirely. She did not again refer to his home
+life.
+
+As they were returning in the full glare of the midday sun, they
+descried in front of them the figure of an old man; he was walking
+painfully and making poor progress. Carefully dressed in black
+broadcloth, he wore a soft felt hat of a shape seldom seen in England.
+
+"I believe," said Hilda, as they approached him, "that is Signor Bruno.
+Yes, it is. Please pull up, Christian. We must give him a lift!"
+
+Christian obeyed her. He thought he detected a shade of annoyance in
+Hilda's voice, with which he fully sympathised.
+
+On hearing the sound of the wheels, the old man looked up in surprise,
+as a deaf person might have been expected to do. This movement showed a
+most charming old face, surrounded by a halo of white hair and beard.
+The features were almost perfect, and might in former days have been a
+trifle cold, by reason of their perfection. Now, however, they were
+softened by the touch of years, and Signor Bruno was the living
+semblance of guilelessness and benevolence.
+
+"How do you do, Signor Bruno?" said Hilda, speaking rather loudly and
+very distinctly. "You are back from London sooner than you expected, are
+you not?"
+
+"Ah! my dear young lady," he replied, courteously removing his hat and
+standing bareheaded.
+
+"Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London--a
+most terrible place--terrible--terrible--terrible! As I walked along
+just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are blue; yonder
+is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.' This is Italy,
+Miss Hilda--Italy with a northern fairy walking in it!"
+
+Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before
+the old gentleman recovered his breath.
+
+"Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor
+Bruno!"
+
+Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had
+alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart.
+When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed
+upon his face with a quiet persistence which might have been
+embarrassing to a younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something
+unintelligible in reply to the Italian's extensive salutation.
+
+"Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!" said Signor Bruno, as
+he replaced his picturesque hat.
+
+Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then
+came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she
+should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the
+sign, and said urbanely:
+
+"You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!"
+
+"Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!" said Christian.
+
+"But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's
+guest, and I--I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed to
+back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr.
+Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!"
+
+The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a
+peculiar self-abnegating humour.
+
+"If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to
+see why you should sit in front!" said Christian with a laugh, which
+although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion.
+
+"Ah!" replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. "There you have
+worsted me. After that I am silent, and--I obey!"
+
+He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness
+of his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until
+the village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the
+gate of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was
+re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and
+Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said:
+
+"Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various
+local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor
+Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs."
+
+"Yes," replied Christian quietly. "He seems very nice."
+
+Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as
+if to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his
+face, which was not expressive of anything in particular.
+
+"Christian," she said gravely, "you do not like him?"
+
+Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he
+seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at
+her grave face.
+
+"No," he replied. "Not very much."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!"
+
+She laughed and shook her head.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked. "How can there be anything wrong with
+him--anything that would affect us, at all events?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
+
+"He says he is an Italian?"
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"I say he is a Frenchman," said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
+"Italians do not talk English as he talks it."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"Do you know him?" she asked.
+
+"No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
+somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it
+will come to me."
+
+"When it does come," said Hilda, with a smile, "you will find that it is
+some one else. I can assure you Signor Bruno is an Italian, and beyond
+that he is the nicest old gentleman imaginable."
+
+"Well," replied Christian. "In the meantime I vote that we do not
+trouble ourselves about him."
+
+The subject was dropped, and not again referred to until after they had
+reached home, when Hilda informed her mother that Signor Bruno had
+returned.
+
+"Oh, indeed," was the reply. "I am very glad. You must ask
+him to dinner to-morrow evening. Is he not a nice old man, Christian?"
+
+"Very," replied Christian, almost before the words were out of her lips.
+"Yes, very nice." He looked across the table towards Hilda with an
+absolutely expressionless composure.
+
+During the following day, which he passed with Sidney and Stanley at sea
+in a little cutter belonging to the Carews, Christian learnt, without
+asking many questions, all that Signor Bruno had vouchsafed in the way
+of information respecting himself. It was a short story and an old one,
+such as many a white-haired Italian could tell to-day. A life, income,
+and energy devoted to a cause which never had much promise of reward.
+Failure, exile, and a life closing in a land where the blue skies of
+Italy are known only by name, where Maraschino is at a premium, and long
+black cigars almost unobtainable.
+
+Hilda was engaged on this day to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mrs.
+Farrar, at Farrar Court. Molly and Christian were to drive over for her
+in the evening. This programme was carried out, but the young people
+lingered rather longer at Farrar Court listening to the quaint,
+old-world recollections of its white-haired hostess than was allowed
+for. Consequently they were late, and heard the first dinner-bell
+ringing as they drove up the lane that led in a casual way to their
+home. (This lane was characteristic of the house. It turned off
+unobtrusively from the high road at right angles with the evident
+intention of leading nowhere.) A race upstairs ensued and a hurried
+toilet. Molly and Christian met on the stairs a few minutes later.
+Christian had won the race, for he was ready, while Molly struggled with
+a silver necklace that fitted closely round her throat. Of course he had
+to help her. While waiting patiently for him to master the intricacies
+of the old silver clasp, Molly said:
+
+"Oh, Christian, there is one place you have not seen yet. Quite close at
+hand too."
+
+"Ye--es," he replied absently, as he at length fixed the clasp. "There,
+it is done!"
+
+As he held open the drawing-room door, he said: "What is the place I
+have to see?"
+
+Signor Bruno, who was seated at the far end of the room with Mrs. Carew,
+rose as he heard the door opened, and advanced to meet Molly.
+
+"Porton Abbey," she said over her shoulder as she advanced into the
+room. "You must see Porton Abbey."
+
+The Italian shook hands with the new-comers and made a clever, laughing
+reference to Christian's politeness of the previous day. At this moment
+Hilda entered, and as soon as she had returned Signor Bruno's courteous
+salutation Molly turned towards her.
+
+"Hilda," she said, "we have never shown Christian Porton Abbey."
+
+"No," was the reply. "I have been reserving it for some afternoon when
+we do not feel very energetic. Unfortunately, we cannot get inside the
+Abbey now, though."
+
+"Why?" asked Christian, without looking towards Hilda. He had discovered
+that Signor Bruno was attempting to keep up a conversation with his
+hostess, while he took in that which was passing at the other end of the
+room. The old man was seated, and his face was within the radius of
+light cast by a shaded lamp. Christian, who stood, was in the shade.
+
+"Because it is a French monastery," replied Molly. "Here," she added,
+"is a flower for your coat, as you say the button-hole is warped by
+constant pinning in of stalks."
+
+"Thanks," he replied, stooping a little in order that she could reach
+the button-hole of his coat. She was in front of him, directly between
+him and Signor Bruno; but he could see over her head. "What sort of
+monastery is it?" he continued conversationally. "I did not know that
+there were any establishments of that sort in England."
+
+Hilda looked up rather sharply from an illustrated newspaper she
+happened to be studying. She knew that he was not adhering strictly to
+the truth. From her point of vantage behind the newspaper she continued
+to watch Christian, and she realised during the minutes that followed,
+that this was indeed the brilliant young journalist of whose fame Farrar
+had spoken as already known in London.
+
+Signor Bruno's conversation with Mrs. Carew became at this moment
+somewhat muddled.
+
+"There, you see," said Molly vivaciously, "we endeavour to interest him
+by retailing the simple annals of our neighbourhood, and his highness
+simply disbelieves us!"
+
+"Not at all," Christian hastened to add, with a laugh. "It simply
+happened that I was surprised. It shall not occur again. But tell me,
+what sort of monastery is it? Dominican? Franciscan? Carmelite?--"
+
+"Oh, goodness! I do not know."
+
+"Perhaps," said Christian, advancing towards the Italian--"perhaps
+Signor Bruno can tell us."
+
+"What is that, Mr. Vell'cott?" asked the old gentleman, making a
+movement as if about to raise his curved hand to his ear, but
+restraining himself upon second thoughts.
+
+Hilda noticed that, instead of raising his voice, Christian spoke in the
+same tone, or even lower, as he said:
+
+"We want some details of the establishment at Porton Abbey, Signor
+Bruno."
+
+The old gentleman made a little grimace expressive of disgust, at the
+same time spreading out his hands as if to ward off something hurtful.
+
+"Ach!" he said, "do not ask me. I know nothing of such people, and wish
+to learn no more. It is to them that my poor country owes her downfall.
+No, no; leave them alone. I always take care of myself
+against--against--what you say--_ces gens-la_!"
+
+Christian awaited the answer in polite silence, and, when Signor Bruno
+had again turned to Mrs. Carew, he looked across the room towards Hilda
+with the same expression of vacant composure that she had noticed on a
+previous occasion. The accent with which Signor Bruno had spoken the few
+words of French was of the purest Parisian, entirely free from the
+harshness which an Italian rarely conquers.
+
+After dinner Hilda went out of the open window into the garden alone.
+Christian, who had seated himself at a small table in the drawing-room,
+did not move. Sidney and his mother were talking with the Italian.
+
+The young journalist was stooping over a book, a vase of flowers stood
+in front of him, but by the movement of his arm it appeared as if he
+were drawing instead of reading. Presently a faint, low whistle came
+from the garden. Though soft, the sound was very clear, and each note
+distinctly given. It was like the beginning of a refrain which broke off
+suddenly and was repeated. Signor Bruno gave a little start and a quick
+upward glance.
+
+"What is that?" he asked, with a little laugh, as if at the delicacy of
+his own nerves.
+
+"Oh," replied Mrs. Carew, "the whistle, you mean. That is our family
+signal. The children were in the habit of calling each other by that
+means in bygone years. I expect they are in the garden now, and wish us
+to join them."
+
+Mrs. Carew knew that Molly was not in the garden, but in making this
+intentional mistake she showed the wisdom of her kind.
+
+"It seems to me," said Signor Bruno, "that the air--the refrain, one
+might call it--is familiar."
+
+Christian Vellacott smiled suddenly behind his screen of flowers, but
+did not move or look up.
+
+"I expect," explained Sidney, "that you have heard the air played upon
+the bugle. It is the French 'retraite,' played by the patrol in garrison
+towns at night."
+
+In the meantime Christian had cut the fly-leaf from the book before him,
+and, after carefully folding it, he placed the paper in his
+breast-pocket. Then he rose and passed out of the open window into the
+garden.
+
+Immediately Signor Bruno asked his hostess a few polite questions
+regarding her guest--what was his occupation, how long he was going to
+stay, and whether she did not agree with him in considering that their
+young friend had a remarkably interesting face. In the course of his
+remarks the old gentleman rose and crossed to the table where Christian
+had been sitting. There was a flower there which he had not seen in
+England before. Absently he took up the book which Christian had just
+been studying, and very naturally turned to the title-page. The fly-leaf
+was gone! When he laid the volume down again he replaced it in the
+identical position in which he had found it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+A CLUE
+
+
+When Christian left the drawing-room he walked quickly down the
+moss-grown path to the moat. Hilda was standing at the edge of the dark
+water, and as he joined her she turned and walked slowly by his side.
+
+"You are a most unsatisfactory person," she said gravely after a few
+moments.
+
+He looked down at her without replying. His eyes softened for a moment
+into a smile, but his lips remained grave.
+
+"You deliberately set yourself," she continued, "to shatter one illusion
+after another. You have made me feel quite old and worldly to-night, and
+the worst of it is that you are invariably right. It is most annoying."
+
+Her voice was only half-playful. There was a shade of sadness in it.
+Christian must have divined her thoughts, for he said:
+
+"Do not let us quarrel over Signor Bruno. I dare say I am wrong
+altogether."
+
+She looked slowly round. Her eyes rested on the dark surface of the
+water, where the shadows lay deep and still; then she raised them to the
+trees, clearly outlined against the sky.
+
+"I suppose that such practical, matter-of-fact people as you are proof
+against mere outward influences."
+
+"So I used to imagine, but I am beginning to find that outward things
+are very important after all. In London it seemed only natural that
+every one should live in a hurry, with no time for thought, pushing
+forward and trying to outstrip their neighbours; but in the country it
+seems that things are different. Intellectual people live quiet,
+thoughtful, and even dreamy lives. They get through somehow without
+seeing the necessity for doing something--trying to be something that
+their neighbours cannot be--and no doubt they are happier for it. I am
+beginning to see how they are content to go on with their uneventful
+lives from year to year until the end even comes without a shock."
+
+"But you yourself would never reach that stage, Christian."
+
+"No, no, Hilda. I can understand it in others, but for me it is
+different. I have tasted too deeply of the other life. I should get
+restless----"
+
+"You are getting restless already," she interrupted gravely, "and you
+have not been here two days!"
+
+They were interrupted by Sidney's clear whistle, and a moment later
+Molly came tripping down the path.
+
+"Come along in," she said; "the old gentleman is going. I was just
+stealing away to join you when Sidney whistled."
+
+When Signor Bruno reached his home that evening, he threw his hat upon
+the table with some considerable force. His aged landlady, having left
+the lamp burning, had retired to bed. He sank into an armchair, and
+contemplated the square toes of his own boots for some moments. Then he
+scratched his head thoughtfully.
+
+"Sacre nom d'un chien!" he muttered; "where have I seen that face
+before?"
+
+Signor Bruno spoke French when soliloquising, which was perhaps somewhat
+peculiar for an Italian. However proficient a man may be in the mastery
+of foreign tongues, he usually dreams and talks to himself in the
+language he learnt at his mother's knee. He may count fluently in a
+strange tongue, but he invariably works out all mental arithmetic in his
+own. Likewise he prays--if he pray at all--in one tongue only. On the
+other hand, it appears very easy to swear in an acquired language.
+Probably our forefathers borrowed each other's expletives when things
+went so lamentably wrong over the Tower of Babel. Still muttering to
+himself, Signor Bruno presently retired to rest with the remembrance of
+a young face, peculiarly and unpleasantly strong, haunting his dreams.
+
+Shortly after Signor Bruno's departure, Christian happened to be left
+alone in the drawing room with Hilda. He promptly produced from his
+pocket the leaf he had cut from a book earlier in the evening. Unfolding
+the paper, he handed it to her, and said:--
+
+"Do you recognise that?"
+
+She looked at it, and answered without hesitation--
+
+"Signor Bruno!"
+
+The drawing was slight, but the likeness was perfect. The face was in
+profile, and the reproduction of the intelligent features could scarcely
+have been more lifelike in a careful portrait. Christian replaced the
+paper in his pocket.
+
+"You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris," continued he, "his father
+belonged to the Austrian Embassy!"
+
+"Yes, I remember him!"
+
+"To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is."
+
+"Yes--and then?"
+
+"When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the
+envelope the name that you will find inside--written by Trevetz."
+
+For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression
+of wonder upon her face.
+
+"Even if you are right," she said, "will it affect us? Will it make us
+cease to look upon him as a friend?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Then," she said slowly, "it has come. You remember now?"
+
+"Yes; I remember now--but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather have
+my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know--or think
+I know--about Bruno!"
+
+Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and
+the subject was perforce dropped.
+
+The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It
+was short, and not very pleasant.
+
+"DEAR VELLACOTT,--Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your
+holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see
+from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in
+the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they
+were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded
+by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained,
+but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present
+somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to
+us, as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge
+of French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject.
+Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course,
+he is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that
+there is plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong
+party has got up the whole affair--perhaps the Church. We must have
+something to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in
+view I must ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on
+receipt of a telegram or letter from me.--Yours,
+
+"C. C. BODERY."
+
+Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly
+his attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim
+round the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the
+paper. The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If
+Mr. Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace
+would have been left upon the envelope.
+
+Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw
+that his movements had passed unobserved.
+
+"Anything new?" asked Sidney, from the head of the table.
+
+"Well, yes," was the reply. "There has been a disturbance in Paris. I
+may have to go over there on receipt of a telegram from the office;" he
+stopped, and looked slowly round the table. Hilda's attention was taken
+up by her plate, upon which, however, there was nothing. He leant
+forward, and handed her the toast-rack. She took a piece, but forgot to
+thank him. "I am sorry," he continued simply, "very sorry that the
+disturbances should have taken place just at this time."
+
+His voice expressed natural and sincere regret, but no surprise. This
+seemed to arouse Molly's curiosity, for she looked up sharply.
+
+"You do not seem to be at all surprised," she said.
+
+"No," he replied; "I am accustomed to this sort of thing, you see. I
+knew all along that there was the chance of being summoned at any time.
+This letter only adds to the chance--that is all!"
+
+"It is a great shame," said Molly, with a pout. "I am sure there are
+plenty of people who could do it instead of you."
+
+Christian laughed readily.
+
+"I am sure there are," he replied, "and that is the very reason why I
+must take the opportunities that fortune offers."
+
+Hilda looked across the table at him, and noted the smile upon his lips,
+the light of energy in his eyes. The love of action had driven all other
+thoughts from his mind.
+
+"I suppose," she said conversationally, "that it will in reality be a
+good thing for you if the summons does come."
+
+"Yes," he replied, without meeting her glance; "it will be a good thing
+for me."
+
+"Is that consolatory view of the matter the outcome of philosophy, or of
+virtue?" inquired Molly mischievously.
+
+"Of virtue," replied Christian gravely, and then he changed the subject.
+
+After breakfast he devoted a short time to the study of some newspaper
+cuttings inclosed in Mr. Bodery's letter. Then he suddenly expressed his
+determination of walking down to the village post office.
+
+"I wish," he said, "to send a telegram, and to get some newspapers,
+which have no doubt come by the second post. After that you will be
+troubled no more about my affairs."
+
+"Until a telegram comes," said Hilda quietly, without looking up from a
+letter she held in her hand. She received one daily from Farrar.
+
+Christian glanced at her with his quick smile.
+
+"Oh," he said, "I do not expect a telegram. It is not so serious as all
+that. In fact, it is not worth thinking about."
+
+"You have a most enviable way of putting aside disagreeable subjects,"
+persisted Hilda, "for discussion at a vague future period."
+
+Christian was steadily cheerful that morning, imperturbably practical.
+
+"That," he said, "is the outcome--not of virtue--but of philosophy. Will
+you come to the post office with Stanley and me? I am sure there is no
+possible household duty to prevent you."
+
+Together they walked through the peaceful fields. Stanley never lingered
+long beside them; something was for ever attracting him aside or ahead,
+and he ran restlessly away. Christian could not help noticing the
+difference in Hilda's manner when they were alone together. The
+semi-sarcastic _badinage_ to which he had been treated lately was
+completely dropped, and her earnest nature was allowed to show itself
+undisguised. Still she was a mystery to him. He was by habit a close
+observer, but her changing moods and humours were to him unaccountable.
+At times she would make a remark the direct contradiction of which was
+shining in her eyes, and at other times she remained silent when mere
+politeness would seem to demand speech. Who knows? Perhaps at all times
+and in all things they understood each other. When their lips were
+exchanging mere nothings--the very lightest and emptiest of
+conversational chaff--despite averted eyes, despite indifferent manner,
+their souls may have been drawn together by that silent bond of sympathy
+which holds through fair and foul, through laughter and tears, through
+life and beyond death.
+
+Christian was not in the habit of allowing himself to become absorbed by
+any passing thoughts, however deep they might be. His mind had adapted
+itself to the work required of it, as the human mind is ever ready to
+do. No deep meditating was required of it, but a quick grasp and a
+somewhat superficial treatment. Journalism is superficial, it cannot be
+otherwise; it must be universal and immediate, and therefore its touch
+is necessarily light. There is nothing permanent about it except the
+ceaseless throb of the printing machine and the warm smell of ink. That
+which a man writes one day may be rendered useless and worthless the
+next, through no carelessness of his, but by the simple course of
+events. He must perforce take up his pen again and write against
+himself. He may be inditing history, and his words may be forgotten in
+twelve hours. There is no time for deep thought, even if such were
+required. He who writes for cursory reading is wise if he writes
+cursorily.
+
+Mr. Bodery's communication in no manner disturbed Christian. He was
+ready enough to talk and laugh, or talk and be grave, as Hilda might
+dictate, while they walked side by side that morning, but she was
+strangely silent. It thus happened that little passed between them until
+they reached the post office. There, he was formally introduced to the
+spry little postmistress, who looked at him sharply over her spectacles.
+
+"I wish, Mrs. Chalder," he said cheerily, as he scribbled off his
+message to Mr. Bodery, while Hilda made friendly overtures to the
+official cat, "I wish that you would forget to send me the disagreeable
+letters, and only forward the pleasant ones. There was one this morning,
+for instance, which you might very easily have mislaid. Instead of which
+you carefully sent it rather earlier than usual and spoilt my
+breakfast."
+
+His voice unconsciously followed the swing of his pencil. It seemed
+certain that he was making conversation with the sole purpose of
+entertaining the old woman. With a pleased laugh and a shake of her grey
+curls she replied:
+
+"Ah, I wish I could, sir. I wish I could burn the bad letters and send
+on only the good ones--but they're all alike on the outside. It's as
+hard to say what's inside a letter as it is to tell what's inside a man
+by lookin' on his face."
+
+"Yes," replied Christian, reading over what he had just written. "Yes,
+Mrs. Chalder, you are right."
+
+"But the reason of your letter gettin' earlier this morning was that
+Seen'yer Bruno said he was goin' past the Hall, sir, and would just
+leave the letters at the Lodge. It is a bit out of the carrier's way,
+and that man _do_ have a long tramp every day, sir."
+
+"Ah, that accounts for it," murmured the journalist, without looking up.
+He was occupied in crossing his t's and dotting his i's. He felt that
+Hilda was looking at him, and some instinct told him that she saw the
+motive of his conversation, but still he played his part and wore his
+mask of carelessness, as men have done before women, knowing the
+futility of it, since the world began. She never referred to the
+incident, and made no remark whatever with a view to his doing so, but
+he knew that it would be remembered, and in after days he learnt to
+build up a very castle of hope upon that frail foundation.
+
+Hilda had not been paying much attention to what he was saying until
+Signor Bruno's name was mentioned. The old man had hitherto occupied a
+very secondary place in her thoughts. He was no one in her circle of
+possibly interesting people, beyond the fact of his having passed
+through a troubled political phase--a fighter on the losing side. Now he
+had, as it were, assumed a more important _role_. The mention of his
+name possessed a new suggestion: and all this, forsooth, because
+Christian Vellacott opined that the benevolent old face was known to
+him.
+
+She began to entertain exaggerated ideas concerning the young
+journalist's thoughts and motives. Twice had she obtained a glimpse into
+the inner chamber of his mind, and on each occasion the result had been
+a vague suggestion of some mental conflict, some dark game of
+cross-purposes between him and Signor Bruno. Remembering this, she, in
+her intelligent simplicity, began to ascribe to Christian's every word
+and action an ulterior motive which in reality did not perhaps exist.
+She noted Christian's calm and direct way of reaching the end he
+desired, and unconsciously she yielded a little to the influence of his
+strength--an influence dangerously fascinating for a strong woman. Her
+strength is so different from that of a man that there is no real
+conflict--it seeks to yield, and glories over its own downfall.
+
+After paying for the telegram, Christian took possession of the bulky
+packet of newspapers addressed to him, and they left the post office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+ON THE SCENT
+
+
+It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the
+conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of
+reviving it.
+
+"Christian," he began conversationally, "is there any smuggling done
+now? Real smuggling, I mean."
+
+
+"No, I think not," replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon
+smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment.
+
+"Why do you ask?" interposed Hilda goodnaturedly.
+
+"Well, I was just wondering," replied the boy. "It struck me yesterday
+that our boat had been moved."
+
+"But," suggested Christian, "it should be very easy to see whether it
+has been dragged over the sand or not."
+
+"Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks
+whatever on the sand," argued little Stanley, determined not to be
+cheated out of his smugglers.
+
+"Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and
+enjoyment," suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was
+saying.
+
+"Then how did he get the padlock open?"
+
+"Smugglers, I suppose," said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother,
+"would be provided with skeleton keys."
+
+"Of course," replied Stanley in an awestruck tone.
+
+"I will tell you what we will do, Stanley," said Christian. "To-morrow
+morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the
+boat and tell you whether it has been moved."
+
+"Unless," added Hilda, "a telegram comes today."
+
+Christian laughed.
+
+"Unless," he said gravely, "the world comes to an end this evening."
+
+It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation,
+that Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened
+the flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper,
+and Mr. Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the
+closely-written sheets upon which his hand was resting.
+
+"It is from Vellacott," said the editor, and after a moment's thought he
+read aloud as follows:--
+
+"Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the
+whole affair. Will write particulars."
+
+Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder.
+
+"That young man," he said, "goes about the world with his eyes
+remarkably wide open, ha-ha!"
+
+Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not
+be delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same
+afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak
+tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the
+south-west, obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle
+breeze blew gaily across the bleak upland--a very different breath from
+that which twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time.
+
+"You would not care about climbing _down_ there, I should think,"
+observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. "It is a very different
+matter getting up."
+
+He was standing, gazing lazily up at the brown cliffs with his straw hat
+tilted backwards, his hands in his pockets, and his whole person
+presenting as fair a picture as one could desire of lazy, quiescent
+strength--a striking contrast to the nervous, wiry townsman at his side.
+
+"Hardly," replied Christian, gazing upwards at the dizzy height. "It is
+rather nasty stuff--slippery in parts and soft."
+
+He turned and strolled off by Hilda's side. With a climber's love of a
+rocky height he looked upwards as they walked, and she noted the
+direction of his gaze.
+
+Presently they sat on the edge of the boat over which Stanley's sense of
+proprietorship had been so grievously outraged.
+
+"What do you know, Christian, or what do you suspect about Signor
+Bruno?" asked Hilda suddenly.
+
+Stanley was running across the sands towards them, and Christian, seeing
+his approach, avoided the question by a generality.
+
+"Wait a little longer," he said. "Let me have Trevetz's answer to
+confirm my suspicions, and then I will tell you. Suspicions are
+dangerous things to meddle with. In imparting them to other people it is
+so difficult to remember that they _are_ suspicions and nothing more."
+
+At this moment Stanley arrived and threw himself down breathlessly on
+the warm sand.
+
+"Chris!" he exclaimed, "come down here and look at these seams in the
+boat--the damp is there still."
+
+The boat was clinker-built, and where the planks overlapped a slight
+appearance of dampness was certainly discernible. Christian lay lazily
+leaning upon his elbow, sometimes glancing at the boat in obedience to
+Stanley's accusatory finger, sometimes looking towards Hilda, whose eyes
+were turned seawards.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of some words pencilled on the stern-post of
+the boat, and by the merest chance refrained from calling Stanley's
+attention to them. Drawing nearer, he could read them easily enough.
+
+     Minuit vingt-six.
+
+"It certainly looks," he said rising, "as if the boat had been in the
+water, but it may be that the dampness is merely owing to heavy dew. The
+boat wants painting, I think."
+
+He knew well enough that little Stanley's suspicions were correct. There
+was no doubt that the boat had been afloat quite recently; but Christian
+knew his duty towards the _Beacon_ and sacrificed his strict sense of
+truth to it.
+
+On the way home he was somewhat pre-occupied--as much, that is to say,
+as he was in the habit of allowing. The pencil scrawl supplied food
+enough for conjectural thought. The writing was undoubtedly fresh, and
+this was the 26th of the month. Some appointment was made for midnight
+by the words pencilled on the boat, and the journalist determined that
+he would be there to see. The question was, should he go alone? He
+watched Sidney Carew walking somewhat heavily along in front of him, and
+decided that he would not seek aid from that quarter. There was no time
+to communicate with Mr. Bodery, so the only course open to him was to go
+by himself.
+
+In a vague manner he had connected the Jesuit party with the
+disturbances in Paris and the importation of the English rifles
+wherewith the crowd had been armed. The gay capital was at that time in
+the hands of the most "Provisional" and uncertain Government imaginable,
+and the home politics of France were completely disorganised. It was
+just the moment for the Church party to attempt a retrieval of their
+lost power. The fire-arms had been recognised by the English authorities
+as some of a pattern lately discarded. They had been stored at Plymouth,
+awaiting shipment to the colonies, where they were to be served out to
+the auxiliary forces, when they had been cleverly removed. The robbery
+was not discovered until the rifles were found in the hands of a Paris
+mob, still fresh and brutal from the horrors of a long course of
+military law. Some of the more fiery of the French journals boldly
+hinted that the English Government had secretly sold the firearms with a
+view to their ultimate gain by the disorganisation of France.
+
+Christian knew as much about affairs in Paris as most men. He was fully
+aware that in the politics of a disturbed country a deed is either a
+crime or a heroism according to circumstances, and he was wise enough to
+await the course of events before thrusting his opinion down the public
+throat. But now he felt that the crisis had supervened, and unwillingly
+he recognised that it was not for him to be idle amidst those rapid
+events.
+
+These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked inland from the Cove, and
+rendered his answers to Stanley's ceaseless flow of questions upon all
+conceivable subjects somewhat vague and unreliable. Hilda was walking
+with them, and divided with Christian the task of supplying her small
+brother with varied information.
+
+As they were approaching the Hall, Christian discerned two figures upon
+the smooth lawn, evidently coming towards them. At the same moment
+Stanley perceived them.
+
+"I see Fred Farrar and Mr. Signor Bruno," he exclaimed.
+
+Christian could not resist glancing over the little fellow's head
+towards Hilda, though he knew that it was hardly a fair action. Hilda
+felt the glance but betrayed no sign. She was looking straight in front
+of her with no change of colour, no glad smile of welcome for her
+stalwart lover.
+
+"I wonder why she never told me," thought Christian.
+
+Presently he said, in an airy, conversational way: "I did not know
+Farrar was coming back so--so soon."
+
+He knew that by this early return Farrar was missing an important day of
+the race-meeting he had been attending, but did not think it necessary
+to remark upon the fact.
+
+"Yes," replied Hilda. "He does not like to leave his mother for many
+days together." The acutest ears could have detected no lowering of the
+voice, no tenderness of thought. She was simply stating a fact; but she
+might have been speaking of Signor Bruno, so cool and unembarrassed was
+her tone.
+
+"I am glad he is back," said Christian thoughtlessly. It was a mere
+stop-gap. The silence was awkward, but he possessed tact enough to have
+broken it by some better means. Instantly he recognised his mistake, and
+for a moment he felt as if he were stumbling blindfold through an
+unknown country. He experienced a sudden sense of vacuity as if his mind
+were a blank and all words futile. It was now Stanley's turn to break
+the silence, and unconsciously he did it very well.
+
+"I wonder," he said speculatively, "whether he has brought any chocolate
+creams?"
+
+Hilda laughed, and the smile was still hovering in her eyes when she
+greeted the two men. Stanley ran on into the house to open a parcel
+which Farrar told him was awaiting inspection. It was only natural that
+Hilda should walk on with the young squire, leaving Bruno and Christian
+together. The old man lingered obviously, and his companion took the
+hint readily enough, anticipating some enjoyment.
+
+"To you, Mr. Vellacott," said the Italian, with senile geniality, "to
+you whose life is spent in London this must be very charming, very
+peaceful, and--very disorganising, I may perhaps add."
+
+Christian looked at his companion with grave attention.
+
+"It is very enjoyable," he replied simply.
+
+Signor Bruno mentally trimmed his sails, and started off on another
+tack.
+
+"Our young friends," he said, indicating with a wave of his expressive
+hand Hilda and Farrar, "are admirably suited to each other. Both young,
+both handsome, and both essentially English."
+
+"Yes," answered Christian, with a polite display of interest: "and,
+nevertheless, the Carews were all brought up and educated in France."
+
+"Ah!" observed the old man, stopping to raise the head of a "Souvenir de
+Malmaison," of which he inhaled the odour with evident pleasure. The
+little ejaculation, and its accompanying action, were admirably
+calculated to leave the hearer in doubt as to whether mere surprise was
+expressed or polite acquiescence in the statement of a known fact.
+
+"Yes," added Christian, deliberately. He also stooped and raised a white
+rose to his face, thus meeting Signor Bruno upon his own ground. The
+Italian looked up, and the two men smiled at each other across the rose
+bush; then they turned and walked on.
+
+"You also know France?" hazarded Signor Bruno.
+
+"Yes; if I were not an Englishman I should choose to be a Frenchman."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now with me," said Signor Bruno frankly, "it is different. If I were
+not an Italian (which God forbid!) I think--I think, yes, I am sure, I
+would by choice have been born an Englishman."
+
+"Ah!" observed Christian gravely, and Signor Bruno turned sharply to
+glance at his face. The young Englishman was gazing straight in front of
+him earnestly, with no suspicion upon his lips of the incredulous smile
+which seemed somehow to have lurked there when he last spoke. The
+Italian turned away dissatisfied, and they walked on a few paces in
+silence, until he spoke again, reflectively:--
+
+"Yes," he said, "there is a quality in the English character which to me
+is very praiseworthy. It is a certain directness of purpose. You know
+what you wish to do, and you proceed calmly to do it, without stopping
+to consider what your neighbours may think of it. Now with the Gallic
+races--for I take this virtue of straightforwardness as Teutonic--and in
+my own country especially, men seek to gain their ends by less open
+means."
+
+They were now walking up a gentle incline to the house, which was built
+upon the buried ruins of its ancient predecessor, and Signor Bruno was
+compelled to pause in order to gain breath.
+
+"But," interposed Christian softly, "you are now talking not so much of
+the people as of the Church."
+
+Again the Italian looked sharply up, and this time he met his
+companion's eyes fixed quietly on his face. He shrugged his shoulders
+deprecatingly and spread out his delicate hands.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," he said, with engaging frankness. "I am afraid
+you are. But you must excuse a little ill-feeling in a man such as I,
+with a past such as mine has been, and loving his country as I do."
+
+"I am afraid," continued Christian, "that foreigners find our bluntness
+very disagreeable and difficult to meet; but I know that they frequently
+misjudge us on the same account. It is to our benefit, so we cannot
+complain."
+
+"In what way do we misjudge you?" asked Signor Bruno genially. They were
+almost on the threshold of the drawing-room window, which stood
+invitingly open, and from which came the sounds of cups and saucers
+being mated.
+
+"You give us credit for less intelligence than we in reality possess,"
+said Christian with a smile, as he stood aside to let his companion pass
+in first.
+
+Whatever influences may have been at work among those congregated at the
+Hall during the half-hour or so occupied by afternoon tea, no sign
+appeared upon the surface. Molly as usual led the chorus of laughter.
+Hilda smiled her sweet "kittenish" smile. Signor Bruno surpassed himself
+in the relation of innocent little tales, told with a true southern
+"verve" and spirit, while Fred Farrar's genial laugh filled in the
+interstices reliably. Grave and unobtrusive, Christian moved about among
+them. He saw when Molly wanted the hot water, and was invariably the
+first to detect an empty cup. He laughed softly at Signor Bruno's
+stories, and occasionally capped them with a better, related in a
+conciser and equally humorous manner. It was to him that Farrar turned
+for an encouraging acquiescence when one of his latest Newmarket
+anecdotes threatened to fall flat, and with it all he found time for an
+occasional spar with Signor Bruno, just by way of keeping that inquiring
+gentleman upon his guard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+BURY BLUFF
+
+
+As Christian walked rapidly across the uneven turf towards the sea at
+midnight, his thoughts were divided between a schoolboy delight in the
+adventurous nature of his expedition and an uncomfortable sensation of
+surreptitiousness. He was not accustomed to this sort of work, and felt
+remarkably like a thief. If by some mischance his absence was discovered
+at the Hall, it would be difficult to account for it unless he played
+the part of a temporary lunatic. Fortunately his window communicated
+easily enough with the garden by means of a few stone steps, but
+visitors are not usually in the habit of leaving their bedrooms in order
+to take the air at midnight. Thinking over these things in his rapid and
+rather superficial way, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
+
+The night was clear and starlit; the air soft and very pleasant, with a
+faint breath of freshness from the south-west. The moon, being well upon
+the wane, would not rise for an hour or more, but the heavens were
+glowing with the gentler light of stars, and on earth the darkness was
+of that transparent description which sailors prefer to the brightest
+moonlight.
+
+Christian Vellacott had worked out most problems in life for himself.
+Taken as a whole, his solutions had been fairly successful--as
+successful as those of most men. If his views upon things in general
+were rather photographic--that is to say, hard, with clearly defined
+shadows--it was owing to his father's somewhat cynical training and to
+the absence of a mother's influence. Elderly maiden ladies, with
+sufficient time upon their hands to manage other people's affairs in
+addition to their own, complained of his want of sympathy, which may be
+read in the sense of stating that he neither sought theirs nor asked
+advice upon questions connected with himself. This self-reliance was the
+inevitable outcome of his life at home and at the office of the
+_Beacon_. Admirable as it may be, independence can undoubtedly be
+carried to an unpleasant excess--unpleasant that is for home life. Women
+love to see their men-folk a trifle dependent upon them.
+
+Christian was in the midst of a problem as he walked across the
+tableland that stretched from St. Mary Western to the sea. That problem
+absorbed more of his attention than the home politics of France; it
+required a more careful study than any article he had ever penned for
+the _Beacon_. It gave him greater anxiety than Aunt Judy and Aunt Hester
+combined. Yet it was comprised in a single word. A single arm could
+encompass the whole of it. The single word--Hilda.
+
+Leaving the narrow road, he presently struck the little pathway leading
+to the Cove. Suddenly he stopped, and stood motionless. There--not
+twenty yards from him--was the still figure of a man. Behind Christian
+the land rose gradually to some considerable height, so that he stood in
+darkness, while against the glowing sky the figure of this watcher was
+clearly defined in hard outline. Instinctively crouching down and
+seeking the covert of a few low bushes, Christian decreased the
+intervening distance by a few yards. The faint hope that it might prove
+to be a coastguard was soon dispelled. The heavy clothing and loose
+thigh-boots were those of a fisherman. The huge "cache-nez" which lay in
+coils upon his shoulders and completely protected the neck and throat,
+was such as is worn by the natives of the Cotes-du-Nord.
+
+The sea boomed forth its melancholy song, far down in the black depths
+beyond. The tide was high, and the breeze freshening every moment.
+Christian could have crept up to the man's very feet without being
+detected. Lying still upon the short, dry grass, he watched for some
+moments.
+
+From the man's clumsy attitude it was almost possible to divine his
+slow, mindless nature--for there is expression in the very turn of a
+man's leg as he stands--and it was easy to see that he was guarding the
+little path down the cliff to the Cove.
+
+He had been posted there, and evidently meant to stay till called away.
+
+There was only one way, now, to the Cove, and that was down the face of
+the cliff: the way that Christian had that very afternoon pronounced so
+hazardous. By day it was dangerous enough; by night it was almost an
+impossibility.
+
+He crept noiselessly along to the eastward, so that the watcher stood
+upon the windward side of him, and reaching the brink he peered over
+into the darkness. Of course he could discern nothing. The sea rose and
+fell with a monotonous roar; overhead the stars twinkled as merrily as
+they have twinkled over the strifes of men from century to century.
+
+Quietly he knelt upright and buttoned his coat with some care. Then
+without a moment's hesitation he crept to the edge and cautiously
+disappeared into the grim abyss of darkness. Slowly and laboriously he
+worked his way down, feeling for each foothold in advance. Occasionally
+he muttered impatiently to himself at the slowness of his progress. He
+knew that the strata of soft sandstone trended downwards at an easy
+angle, and with consummate skill took full advantage of his knowledge.
+Occasionally he was forced to progress sideways with his face to the
+rock and hands outstretched till his fingers were cramped, and the
+feeling known as "pins and needles" assailed his arms. Then he would
+rest for some moments, peering into the darkness below him all the
+while. Once or twice he dropped a small stone cautiously, holding it at
+arm's length. When the tiny messenger touched earth soon after leaving
+his hand, he continued his downward progress. Once, no sound followed
+for some seconds, and then it was only a distant concussion far down
+beside the sea. With an involuntary shudder, the climber turned and made
+his way upwards and sideways again, before venturing to descend once
+more.
+
+For half an hour he continued his perilous struggle, till his strong
+arms were stiff and his fingers almost powerless. With marvellous
+tenacity he held to his purpose. Never since leaving the summit had he
+been able to rest both hands at once. With a dogged, mechanical
+endurance which is essentially characteristic of climbers and
+mountaineers, he lowered himself, inch by inch, foot by foot. Louder and
+louder sang the sea, as if in derision at his petty efforts, but through
+his head there rushed another sound infinitely more terrible: a
+painful, continuous buzz, which seemed to press upon his temples. A dull
+pain was slowly creeping up the muscles of his neck towards his head.
+All these symptoms the climber knew. The buzzing in his ears would never
+cease until he could lie down and breathe freely with every muscle
+relaxed, every sinew slack. The dull ache would creep up until it
+reached his brain, and then nothing could save him--no strength of will
+could prevent his fingers from relaxing their hold.
+
+"Sish--sish, sish--sish!" laughed the waves below. Placidly the stars
+held on their stately course--each perhaps peopled by millions of its
+own--young and old, tame and fiery--all pursuing shadows as we do here.
+
+"This is getting serious," muttered Christian, with a pitiful laugh. The
+perspiration was running down his face, burning his eyes, and dripping
+from his chin. With straining eyes he peered into the night. Close
+beneath him there was a ledge of some breadth. It was not flat, but
+inclined upwards from the face of the cliff, thus forming a shelf of
+solid stone. For some seconds he stared continuously at this, so as to
+reduce to a minimum the chance of being mistaken. Then with great
+caution he slid down the steep incline of smooth stone and landed
+safely. The glissade lasted but a moment, nevertheless it recalled to
+his mind a picture which was indelibly stamped in his memory. Years
+before he had seen a man slide like this, unintentionally, after a false
+step. Again that picture came to him--unimpressionable as his life had
+rendered him. Again he saw the glittering expanse of snow, and on it the
+broad, strong figure of the Vaudois guide sliding down and down, with
+madly increasing speed--feet foremost, skilful to the last. Again he
+felt the thrill which men cannot but experience at the sight of a man,
+or even of a dumb beast, fighting bravely for life. Again he saw the
+dull gleam of the uplifted ice-axe as the man dealt scientific blow
+after blow on the frozen snow, attempting to arrest his terrible career.
+And again in his mind's eye the pure expanse of spotless white lay
+before him, scarred by one straight streak, marking where the taciturn
+mountaineer had vanished over the edge of the precipice to his certain
+doom.
+
+Christian lay like a half-drowned man upon the shelving ledge, slowly
+realising his position. He calculated that he could not yet be half-way
+down, and his strength was almost exhausted. Yet, as he lay there, no
+thought of waiting for daylight, no question of retreat entered his
+stubborn West-country brain. The exploit still possessed for him the
+elements of a good joke, to be related thereafter in such a manner as
+would enforce laughter.
+
+Suddenly--within the softer sound of the sea below--a harsh, grating
+noise struck his ears. It was to him like the sound made by a nailed
+boot upon rock. It was as if another were following him down the face of
+the cliff. In a second he was upon his feet, his weariness a thing
+forgotten. Overhead, against the starlit sky, he could define the line
+of rock with its sharp, broken angles and uncouth turns. Not thirty feet
+above him something was moving. His first feeling was one of intense
+fear. Every climber knows that it is easier to pass a difficult corner
+than to stand idle, watching another do it. Slowly the dark form came
+downwards, and suddenly, with a quick sense of unutterable relief,
+Christian saw the black line of a tightened rope. When it was barely ten
+feet above him he saw that the object was no man, but a square case. In
+a flash of thought he divined what the box contained, and unhesitatingly
+ran along the ledge towards it. As it descended he seized it with both
+hands and swung it in towards himself. With pendulum-like motion it
+descended, and at last touched the rock at his feet. As this took place
+he grasped the rope with both hands and threw his entire weight upon it,
+hauling slowly in, hand over hand. So quickly and deftly was this
+carried out that those lowering overhead were deceived, and continued to
+pay out the rope slowly. Steadily Christian hauled in, the slack falling
+in snake-like coils at his feet. Only being able to guess at his
+position on the cliff, it was no easy matter to calculate how much rope
+it was necessary to take in in order to carry out the deception.
+
+At length he ceased abruptly, and proceeded to untie the knots round the
+bale. Then, after the manner of a sailor who is working out of sight
+with a life-line, he jerked the rope, which immediately began to ascend
+rapidly and with irregularity. Coil after coil ran easily away, and at
+last the frayed end passed into the darkness above Christian's head. He
+stood there watching it, and when it had disappeared he burst into a low
+hoarse laugh which suddenly broke off into a sickening gurgle, and he
+fell sideways and backwards on to the box, clutching at it with his
+nerveless fingers.
+
+When he recovered his faculties his first sensation was one of great
+cold. The breeze had freshened with the approach of dawn, and blowing
+full upon him as he lay bathed in perspiration, the effect was like that
+of a refrigerator. He moved uneasily, and found that he was lying on the
+stone ledge _outside_ the box, from which he had fallen. After a moment,
+he rose rapidly to his feet as if desirous of dismissing the memory of
+his own collapse, and turned his attention to the bundle. Beneath the
+rough covering of canvas, which was not sewn but merely lashed round, it
+was easy enough to detect the shape of the case.
+
+"What luck--what wonderful luck," he muttered, as he groped round the
+surface of the bundle.
+
+Indeed it seemed as if everything had arranged itself for his special
+benefit and advantage.
+
+The three men whose duty it had been to lower the case coiled up their
+rope and started off on foot inland, after telling the sentinel
+stationed at the head of the little path to rejoin his boat. This the
+man was only too willing to do at once. He was a semi-superstitious
+Breton of no great intelligence, who vastly preferred being afloat in
+his unsavoury yawl to climbing about unknown rocks in the dark. On the
+beach, he found his two comrades, to whom he gruffly imparted the
+information that they were to go on board.
+
+"Had the 'monsieur' said nothing else?"
+
+"No, the 'monsieur' said nothing else."
+
+The Breton intellect is not, as a rule, acute. Like sheep the three men
+proceeded to carry up from the water's edge Stanley's boat, which was
+required to carry the heavy case, their own dinghy being too small. This
+done, they rowed off silently to the yawl, which was rolling lazily in
+the trough of the sea, a quarter of a mile from the shore. Once on board
+they were regaled with some choice French profanity from the lips of a
+large man in a sealskin cap and a dirty woollen muffler. This gentleman
+they addressed as the "patron," and, with clumsy awe, informed him that
+they had waited at the same spot as before, but nothing had come, until
+at length Hoel Grall arrived with instructions from the "monsieur" to go
+on board. Whereupon further French profanity, followed by unintelligible
+orders, freely interlarded with embellishments of a forcible tenor.
+
+As the yawl swung slowly round and stood out to sea, Christian turned to
+climb up Bury Bluff. He found that he had in reality made very little
+progress in descending. Before leaving the case, he edged it by degrees
+nearer to the base of the ledge, which would render it invisible from
+the beach. The ascent was soon accomplished, and after a cautious search
+he concluded that no one was about, so set off home at a rapid pace.
+
+Before he reached the Hall the light of coming day was already creeping
+up into the eastern sky. All nature was stirring, refreshed with the
+balmy dew and coolness of the night. Far up in the higher branches of
+the Weymouth pines, the wrens were awake, calling to each other with
+tentative twitter, and pluming themselves the while for another day of
+sunshine and song.
+
+Like a thief Christian hurried on, and creeping into his bedroom window,
+was soon sleeping the dreamless, forgetful sleep of youth.
+
+By seven o'clock he was awake with all the quick realisation of a
+Londoner. In the country men wake up slowly, and slowly gather together
+their senses after an all-sufficing sleep of ten hours. In cities, five,
+four, or even three are sufficient for the unfatigued body and the
+restless mind. Men wake up quickly, and are at once in full possession
+of their faculties. It is, after all, a mere matter of habit.
+
+Christian had slept sufficiently. He rose quite fresh and strong, and
+presently sat down, coatless to write.
+
+Page after page he wrote, turning each leaf over upon its face as it was
+completed--never referring back, never hesitating, and only occasionally
+raising his pen from the paper. Line after line of neat, small writing,
+quite different from what his friends knew in letters or on envelopes,
+flowed from his pen. It was his "press" handwriting, plain, rapid, and
+as legible as print. The punctuation was attended to with singular care:
+the commas broad and heavy, the colons like the kisses in a child's
+letter, round and black. Once or twice he smiled as he wrote, and
+occasionally jerked his head to one side critically as he re-read a
+sentence.
+
+In less than two hours it was finished. He rose from his seat, and
+walked slowly to the window. Standing there he gazed thoughtfully across
+the bare, unlovely tableland towards the sea. He had written many
+hundreds of pages, all more or less masterly; he had read criticisms
+upon his own work saying that it was good; and yet he knew that the
+best--the best he had ever written--lay upon the table behind him. Then
+he turned and shook the loose leaves together symmetrically. Pensively
+he counted them. He was young and strong; the world and life lay before
+him, with their infinite possibilities--their countless opportunities to
+be seized or left. He looked curiously at the written pages. The writing
+was his own; the form of every letter was familiar; the heavy
+punctuation and clean, closely written lines such as the compositor
+loved to deal with; and while he turned the leaves over he wondered if
+ever he would do better, for he knew that it was good.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A WARNING WORD
+
+
+As the breakfast-bell echoed through the house Christian ran downstairs.
+He met Hilda entering the open door with the letters in her hand.
+
+"Down already?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," she replied incautiously, "I wished to get the letters early."
+
+"And, after all, there is nothing for you?"
+
+"No," she replied. "No, but--"
+
+She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly,
+and apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a
+peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied
+the envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address.
+Presently he raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a
+letter daintily between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little
+puffs of her pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the
+infantile amusement immensely.
+
+He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside
+for her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill
+operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
+
+"Well?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"What?"
+
+"And Mr. Trevetz's answer--I suppose it is one of those letters?"
+
+"Oh yes!" he replied. "I had forgotten my promise."
+
+He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
+
+"One is from Trevetz," he said slowly, "and the other from Mrs. Strawd."
+
+"Nothing from Mr. Bodery?" asked she indifferently.
+
+He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's
+letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his
+occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:--
+
+"No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet."
+
+"I am very glad," she murmured conventionally.
+
+"And I," he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
+
+She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it
+critically.
+
+"M-a-x," she read; "how badly it is written! Max--Max Talma--is that
+it?"
+
+"Yes," he answered gravely, "that is it."
+
+With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open
+the envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf
+of a novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as
+she unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the
+open sketch to him. At the foot was written:--
+
+"Max Talma--look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
+
+"In haste, C.T."
+
+Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his
+pocket. "Trevetz writes in a good forcible style," he said, turning to
+greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an
+instant her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as
+she caught sight of her sister and Christian standing together.
+
+"Are you just down?" she asked carelessly.
+
+"Yes," answered Christian, still holding her hand.
+
+"I have just come down."
+
+As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the
+station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was
+printed Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the
+guard, who would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at
+Paddington, and the editor of the _Beacon_ would receive it by four
+o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was
+satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a
+brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon.
+This was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer.
+The lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family
+assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were
+left open for those who wished to pass in and out.
+
+Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework,
+while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy,
+while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney
+was reading in his own room--reading for a vague law examination which
+always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.
+
+Christian was seated at the piano, playing by snatches and turning over
+the brown leaves of some very old music, unearthed from a lumber-room by
+Mrs. Carew for his benefit. He waited for no thanks or comment;
+sometimes he read a few bars only, sometimes a page. He appeared to have
+forgotten that he had an audience. Presently he rose, leaving the music
+in disorder. Hilda had been called away some time before by an old
+village woman requiring medicaments for unheard-of symptoms. Christian
+looked slowly round the room, then raising his hand he dexterously
+caught a huge moth which had flown past his face.
+
+As he crossed the room towards the open window, with a view of
+liberating the moth, a low whistle reached his ear. The refrain was that
+of the familiar "retraite." Hilda had evidently gone out to the moat by
+another door. Bowing his head, he passed between the muslin curtains and
+disappeared in the darkness. The sound of his footsteps died away almost
+immediately amidst the rustle of branch and leaf already crisp with
+approaching change.
+
+It was Stanley's bed-time. Mechanically, Molly kissed her brother,
+continuing to work thoughtfully.
+
+In a few minutes the door opened and Hilda entered the room. She came up
+to the table, and standing there with her hands resting upon some pieces
+of Molly's work, she gave a graphic description of the old woman's
+complaints and maladies. She stood quite close to Molly, and told her
+story to Mrs. Carew merrily, failing to notice that her sister had
+ceased sewing, and was listening with a surprised look in her eyes. When
+the symptoms had been detailed and laughed over, Hilda turned quietly
+and passed out into the garden. With fearless familiarity she ran
+lightly down the narrow pathway towards the moat, but no signal-whistle
+greeted her. The leaves rustled and whispered overhead; the water lapped
+and gurgled at her feet, but there was no sign or sound of life.
+
+Silent and motionless she stood, a tall fair form clad in white, amidst
+the universal, darkness. So silent and so still that it might have been
+the shade of some fair maid of bygone years mourning the loss of her
+true knight, who in all the circumstances of war had crossed that same
+moat never to return.
+
+Presently a sudden feeling of loneliness, a new sense of fear, came over
+Hilda. All around was so forbidding. The water at her feet was so black
+and mysterious. She gave a soft low whistle identical with that which
+had called Christian out twenty minutes before, but it remained
+unanswered, and through the rustling leaves she sped towards the house.
+From the open window a glow of rosy light shone forth upon the flowers,
+imparting to all alike a pallid pink, and dimly defining the grey
+tree-trunks across the lawn. As Hilda stepped between the curtains, the
+servants entered the drawing-room in solemn Indian file for evening
+prayers.
+
+Mrs. Carew looked up from the Bible which lay open before her, and said
+to Hilda:--
+
+"Where is Christian?"
+
+"I don't know, mother; he is not in the garden," answered the girl,
+crossing the room to her own particular chair.
+
+Sidney rose from his seat, and going to the window, sent his loud clear
+whistle away into the night. His broad figure remained motionless for
+some minutes, almost filling up the window; then he silently resumed his
+seat.
+
+Mrs. Carew smoothed down the silken book-marker, and began reading in a
+low voice. It is to be feared that the Psalmist's words of joy were not
+heard with understanding ears that night. A short prayer followed;
+softly and melodiously Mrs. Carew asked for blessings upon the bowed
+heads around her, and the servants left the room.
+
+"Have you not seen Christian since you went to see Mrs. Sender, Hilda?"
+asked Molly, at once.
+
+"No," replied Hilda, arranging the music into something like order upon
+the piano.
+
+"He went out about half an hour ago, in answer to your whistle."
+
+Hilda turned her head as if about to reply hastily, but checked herself,
+and resumed her task of setting the music in order.
+
+"How could I whistle," she asked gently, "when I was in the kitchen
+doling out medicated cotton-wool to Mrs. Sender?"
+
+Molly looked puzzled.
+
+"Did _you_ whistle, Sidney?" she asked.
+
+"I--no; I was half-asleep over a law-book in my own room."
+
+"I expect he has gone for a stroll, and forgotten the time," suggested
+Mrs. Carew reassuringly, as she sat down to work again.
+
+"But what about the whistle; are you sure you heard it, Molly?" asked
+Hilda, speaking rather more quickly than was habitual with her. She
+walked towards the window and drew aside the curtain, keeping her back
+turned towards the room.
+
+"Yes," answered Molly uneasily. "Yes--I heard it, and so did he, for he
+went out at once."
+
+Sidney stood awkwardly with his shoulder against the mantelpiece,
+listening in a half-hearted way to his sisters' conversation. With a
+heavy jerk he threw himself upright and slowly crossed the room. He
+stood for some moments immediately behind Hilda without touching her.
+Then he raised his hand and with gentle, almost caressing pressure round
+her waist, he made her step aside so that he could pass out. He was a
+singularly undemonstrative man, rarely giving way to what he considered
+the weakness of a caress. Fortunately, however, for their own happiness,
+his womenfolk understood him, and especially between himself and Hilda
+there existed a peculiar unspoken sympathy.
+
+In the ordinary way he would have mumbled--
+
+"Le'mme out!"
+
+On this occasion he touched her waist gently, and the caress almost
+startled her. It seemed like a confession that he shared the vague
+anxiety which she concealed so well.
+
+With the charity of maternal love, which is by no means so blind as is
+generally supposed, Mrs. Carew often said of Sidney that he invariably
+rose to the occasion; and Mrs. Carew's statements were as a rule
+correct. His slowness was partly assumed; his indifference was a mere
+habit. The assumption of the former saved him infinite worry and
+responsibility; the habit of indifference did away with the necessity of
+coming to a decision upon general questions. This state of mind may, to
+townsmen, be incomprehensible. Certain it is that such as are in that
+condition are not found among the foremost dwellers in cities. But in
+the country it is a different matter. Such cases are only too common,
+and (without breath of disparagement) they are usually to be found in
+households where one man finds himself among several women--be the
+latter mother and sisters, or wife and sisters-in-law.
+
+The man may be a thorough sportsman, he may be an excellent landlord and
+a popular squire, but within his own doors he is overwhelmed. Chivalry
+bids him give way to the wishes and desires of some woman or other, and
+if he be a sportsman he is necessarily chivalrous. When one is tired
+after a long day in the saddle or with a gun, it is so much easier to
+acquiesce and philosophically persuade oneself that the matter is not
+worth airing an adverse opinion over. This is the beginning, and if any
+beginning can look forward to great endings it is that of a habit.
+
+It would appear that Sidney Carew's occasion had come at last, for once
+outside the window he changed to a different being. The lazy slouch
+vanished from his movements, his eyes lost their droop, and he held his
+head erect.
+
+He made his way rapidly to the stable, and there, without the knowledge
+of the grooms, he obtained a large hurricane-lamp, lighted it, and
+returned towards the house. From the window Hilda saw him pass down a
+little path towards the moat, with the lamp swinging at his side, while
+the shadows waved backwards and forwards across the lawn.
+
+The mind is a strange storehouse. However long a memory may have been
+warehoused there, deep down beneath piles of other remembrances and
+conceits, it is generally to be found at the top when the demand comes,
+ready for use--for good or evil. A dim recollection was resuscitated in
+Sidney's mind. An unauthenticated nursery tale of a departing guest
+leaving with a word of joy upon his lips and warm comfort in his heart,
+turning from the glowing doorway and walking down the little pathway
+straight into the moat.
+
+Christian, however, was an excellent swimmer; he knew every inch of the
+pathway, every stone round the moat. That he should have been drowned in
+ten feet of clear water, with an easy landing within ten yards, seemed
+the wildest impossibility. Of course such things have happened, but
+Christian Vellacott was essentially wide awake, and unlikely to come to
+mishap through his own carelessness. Of all these things Sidney thought
+as he walked rapidly towards the moat, and in particular he pondered
+over Molly's statement that she had heard Hilda whistle. This had met
+with flat denial from Hilda, and Sidney, with brotherly candour, could
+only arrive at the conclusion that Molly had been mistaken. He would not
+give way to the least suggestion of anxiety even in his own mind. After
+all Christian would probably come in with some simple explanation and a
+laugh for their fears. It often happens thus, as we must all know. The
+moments so long and dreary for the watcher, whose imagination gains more
+and more power as the time passes, slip away unheeded by the awaited,
+who treats the matter with a laugh or, at the most, a few conventional
+words of sympathy.
+
+Sidney stood at the edge of the water and threw the beams of light
+across the rippling surface. Mechanically he followed the ray as it
+swept from end to end of the moat, and presently, without heeding, he
+turned his attention to the stones at his feet. A gleam of reflected
+light caught his passing gaze, and he stooped to examine the cause more
+closely.
+
+The smooth stonework was wet; in fact the water was standing in little
+pools upon it. Round these there were circles of dampness, showing that
+evaporation was taking place. The water had not lain there long. A man
+falling into the moat would have thrown up splashes such as these; in no
+other way could they be plausibly accounted for. Sidney stood erect.
+Again he held the lamp over the gleaming water, half fearing to see
+something. His lips had quite suddenly become dry and parched, and there
+was an uncomfortable throb in his throat. Suddenly he heard a rustle
+behind him, and before he could draw back Hilda was at his side. She
+slipped her hand through his arm, and by the slightest pressure drew him
+away from the moat.
+
+"You know--Sid--he could swim perfectly," she said persuasively.
+
+He made no answer, but walked slowly by her side, swinging the lamp
+backwards and forwards as a schoolboy swings his satchel. Thus he gained
+time to moisten his lips and render speech possible.
+
+Together they went round the grounds, but no sign or vestige of
+Christian did they discover. A pang of remorse came to Hilda as she
+touched her brother's strong arm. Ever since Christian's arrival she
+remembered that Sidney had been somewhat neglected, or only remembered
+when his services were required. Christian had indeed been attentive to
+him, but Hilda felt that their friendship was not what it used to be.
+The young journalist in his upward progress had left the slow-thinking
+country squire behind him. All they had in common belonged to the past;
+and, for Christian, the past was of small importance compared to the
+present. She recollected that during the last fortnight everything had
+been arranged with a view to giving pleasure to herself, Molly, and
+Christian, without heed to Sidney's inclinations. By word or sign he had
+never shown his knowledge of this; he had never implied that his
+existence or opinion was of any great consequence. She remembered even
+that such pleasures as Christian had shared with Sidney--pleasures after
+his own heart, sailing, shooting, and fishing--had been undertaken at
+Christian's instigation or suggestion, and eagerly welcomed by Sidney.
+
+And now, at the first suspicion of trouble, she turned instinctively to
+her brother for the help and counsel which were so willingly and
+modestly accorded.
+
+"Sidney," she said, "did he ever speak to you of his work?"
+
+"No," he replied slowly; "no, I think not."
+
+"He has been rather worried over those disturbances in Paris, I think,
+and--and--I suppose he has never said anything to you about Signor
+Bruno?"
+
+"Signor Bruno!" said Sidney, repeating the name in some surprise. "No,
+he has never mentioned his name to me."
+
+"He does not like him----"
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+"But you never told me--Sid!"
+
+"No," he replied simply: "there was nothing to be gained by it!"
+
+This was lamentably true, and Hilda felt that it was so, although her
+brother had no thought of posing as a martyr.
+
+"Christian," she continued softly, "distrusted him for some reason. He
+knows something of his former life, and told me a short time ago that
+Bruno was not his name at all. This morning Christian received a letter
+from Carl Trevetz, whom we knew in Paris, you will remember, saying that
+Signor Bruno's real name was Max Talma, also warning Christian to avoid
+him."
+
+"Is this all you know?" asked Sidney, in a peculiarly quiet tone.
+
+"That is all I know," she replied. "But it has struck me that--that
+this may have something to do with Signor Bruno. I mean--is it not
+probable that Christian may have discovered something which caused him
+to go away suddenly without letting Bruno know of his departure?"
+
+Sidney thought of the water at the edge of the moat. The incident might
+prove easy enough of explanation, but at the moment it was singularly
+unreconcilable with Hilda's comforting explanation. And again, the
+recollection of the signal-whistle heard by Molly was unwelcome.
+
+"Yes," he replied vaguely. "Yes, it may."
+
+He was, by nature and habit, a slow thinker, and Hilda was running away
+from him a little; but he was, perhaps, surer than she.
+
+"I am convinced, Sidney," she continued, "that Christian connects Signor
+Bruno in some manner with the disturbances in France. It seems very
+strange that an old man buried alive in a small village should have it
+in his power to do so much harm."
+
+"A man's power of doing harm is practically unlimited," he said slowly,
+still wishing to gain time.
+
+"Yes, but he has always appeared so childlike and innocent."
+
+"That is exactly what I disliked about him," said Sidney.
+
+"Then do you think he has been deliberately deceiving us all along?"
+she asked.
+
+"Not necessarily," was the tolerant reply. "You must remember that
+Christian is essentially a politician. He does not suspect Bruno of
+anything criminal; his suspicions are merely political; and it may be
+that Bruno's doings, whatever they appear to be now, may in the future
+be looked upon as the actions of a hero. Politics are impersonal, and
+Signor Bruno is only known to us socially."
+
+Hilda could not see the matter in this light. No woman could have been
+expected to do so.
+
+"I suppose," she said presently, "that Signor Bruno is a political
+intriguer."
+
+"I expect so," replied her brother.
+
+They were walking slowly up the broad path towards the house, having
+given up the idea of searching for Christian or calling him.
+
+"Then," continued Sidney, "you think it is likely that he has gone off
+to see Bruno, or to watch him?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of," he said
+gravely and doubtfully, for he was still thinking of the moat.
+
+They entered the house, and to Mrs. Carew and Molly their explanation
+was imparted. It was received somewhat doubtfully, especially by Molly.
+However, the farce had to be kept up--and do we not act in similar
+comedies every day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+A NIGHT WATCH
+
+
+Cheerfulness is, thank goodness, infectious. The watchers at the Hall
+that night made a great show of light-heartedness. Sidney had risen to
+the occasion. He laughed at the idea of anything serious having happened
+to Christian, and his confidence gradually spread and gained new
+strength. Molly, however, was apparently beyond its influence. With her
+perpetual needle-work in her hands she sat beneath the lamp and worked
+rapidly. Occasionally she glanced towards Hilda, but contributed nothing
+to the explanations forthcoming from all quarters.
+
+Hilda was also working; slowly, however, and with marvellous care. She
+was engaged upon a more artistic production than ever came from Molly's
+work-basket. Once she consulted Mrs. Carew about the colour of a skein
+of wool, but otherwise showed no inclination to avoid topics in any
+manner connected with Christian, despite the fact that these were
+obviously distasteful to her family. In all that she said, indifference
+was blended in a singular way with imperturbable cheerfulness.
+
+Thus they waited until after midnight, pretending bravely to work and
+read as if there were no such feeling as suspense in the human heart.
+Then Mrs. Carew persuaded the young people to go to bed. She had letters
+to write, and would not be ready for hours. If Christian did not appear
+by the time that she was sleepy, she would wake Sidney. After all, she
+acted her part better than they. She was old at it--they were new. She
+was experienced in stage-craft and made her points skilfully; above all,
+she did not over-act.
+
+The three young people kissed their mother and left the room, assuring
+each other of their conviction that they would find Christian at the
+breakfast table next morning. Molly's room was at the head of the
+stairs. With a smile and a nod she closed her door while Hilda and
+Sidney walked slowly down the long passage together. Arrived at the end,
+Sidney kissed his sister. She turned the handle of her door and stood
+with her back to him for a few moments without entering the room, as if
+to give him an opportunity of speaking if he had aught to say. He stood
+awkwardly behind her, gazing mechanically at her hair, which reflected
+the light from the candle that he was holding all awry, while the wax
+dripped upon the carpet.
+
+"It will be all right, Hilda," he said unevenly, "never fear!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I know it will," she replied.
+
+And then she passed into the room without closing the door, and he
+walked on with loudly-creaking shoes.
+
+Hilda crossed her room and set the candle upon the dressing-table. She
+waited there till Sidney's footsteps had ceased, and then she turned and
+walked uprightly to the door, which she closed. She looked round the
+room with a strange, vacant look in her eyes, and then she made her way
+unsteadily towards the bed, where she lay staring at the wavering candle
+and its reflection in the mirror behind until daylight came to make its
+flame grow pale and yellow.
+
+There were four watchers in the house that night. Downstairs, Mrs. Carew
+sat by the shaded lamp in her upright armchair. She was not writing, but
+had re-opened the large black Bible. Molly was courting sleep in vain,
+having resolutely blown out her candle. Sidney made no pretence. He was
+fully dressed, and seated at his rarely-used writing-table. Before him
+lay a telegraph-form bearing nothing but the address--
+
+C.C. BODERY, _Beacon_ Office, Fleet St., London.
+
+He was gazing mechanically at the blank spaces waiting to be filled in,
+and through his mind was passing and repassing the same question that
+occupied the thoughts of his mother and sisters. What could be the
+explanation of the whistle heard by Molly? The want of this alone
+sufficed to overthrow the most ingenious of consolatory explanations.
+All four looked at it from different points of view, and to each the
+signal-whistle calling Christian into the garden was an insurmountable
+barrier to every explanation.
+
+Before it was wholly light Hilda moved wearily to the window. She threw
+it open, and sat with arms resting on the sill and her chin upon her
+hands, mechanically noting the wonders of the sunrise. A soft white mist
+was rising from the thick pasture, wholly obscuring the sea and filling
+the atmosphere with a damp chill. Seated there in her thin evening
+dress, she showed no sign of feeling the cold. At times physical pain is
+almost a pleasure. The glistening damp rested on every blade of grass,
+on every leaf and twig, while the many webs stood whitely against the
+shadows, some hanging like festoons from tree to tree, others floating
+out in mid-air without apparent reason or support. In and among the
+branches lingered little secret deposits of mist waiting the sun's
+warmth to melt them all away.
+
+The suppressed creak of Sidney's door attracted Hilda's attention, but
+she did not move, merely turning to look at her own door as her brother
+passed it with awkward caution. A dull instinct told her that he was
+going to the moat again. Presently he passed beneath her window and
+across the dewy lawn, leaving a trailing mark upon the grass. The whole
+picture seemed suddenly to be familiar to her. She had lived through it
+all before--not in another life, not in years gone by, not in a dream,
+but during the last few hours.
+
+The air was very still, and she could hear the clank of the chain as
+Sidney unmoored the old punt, rarely used except by the gardener to
+clean the moat when the weeds died down in autumn. The quiet was
+rendered more remarkable by the suddenness of its advent. All night it
+had been blowing a wild gale, which dropped at dawn, and from the soft
+land the mist rose instantly.
+
+Prompted by a vague desire to be doing something, Hilda presently turned
+from the window, and, after a moment's indecision, chose from the shelf
+a novel fresh from the brain of the king of writers. With it she
+returned to her low chair and listlessly turned over the leaves for some
+moments. She raised her head and sought in vain the tiny form of a lark
+trilling out his morning hymn far up in the blue sky. Then she
+resolutely commenced to read uninterruptedly.
+
+She read on until Sidney's firm step upon the gravel beneath the window
+roused her. A minute later he knocked softly at her door. The water was
+glistening on his rough shooting-boots as he entered the room, and upon
+the brown leather gaiters there was a deeper shade showing where the wet
+grass had brushed against his legs. His honest, immobile face showed but
+little surprise at the sight of Hilda still in evening dress, but she
+saw that he noticed it.
+
+She rose from her low chair and laid aside the book, but no sort of
+greeting passed between them.
+
+"I have been all round again," he said quietly, "by daylight, and--and
+of course there is no sign."
+
+She nodded her head, but did not speak.
+
+"I have been thinking," he continued somewhat shyly, "as to what is to
+be done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I
+know it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that
+Christian has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the
+same excuse will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph
+this morning to Mr. Bodery, the editor of the _Beacon_, and await his
+instructions. I think that is all that we can do in the meantime."
+
+She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon
+the closed volume of "Vanity Fair," but instead of looking at her
+brother she was gazing calmly out of the window.
+
+"Yes," she murmured, "I think that is all that we can do in the
+meantime."
+
+Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated
+still.
+
+"Have you nothing to suggest?" he asked. "Do you think I am acting
+rightly?"
+
+She was still looking out of the window--still standing motionless near
+the table with her hand upon Thackeray's "Vanity Fair."
+
+"Yes," she replied; "everything you suggest seems wise and prudent."
+
+"Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to
+say nothing--nothing that may betray our anxiety?"
+
+"Yes, I will see them."
+
+Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round
+once more.
+
+"It is nearly half-past seven," he said, with more confidence in his
+tone, "and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for
+her to see you in that dress."
+
+Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face.
+
+"No," she said, with a sudden smile; "I will change it at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+FOILED
+
+
+When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the
+tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the
+table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves
+tucked up. The subeditor of the _Beacon_ was in reality a good hard
+worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire
+that the world should be aware of his industry.
+
+"Good morning, Morgan," said the editor, hanging up his hat.
+
+"Morning," replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before
+Mr. Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand
+with heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and
+looked up.
+
+"This article of Vellacott's is first-rate," he said. "By Jove! sir, he
+drops on these holy fathers--lets them have it right and left. The way
+he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting
+everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing
+_could_ be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see
+quickly enough that it means to show how the trick was in reality
+performed--ha, ha!"
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Bodery absently. He was glancing at the pile of
+letters that lay upon his desk. There were among them one or two
+telegrams, and these he put to one side while he took up each envelope
+in succession to examine the address, throwing it down again unopened.
+At length he turned again to the telegrams, and picked up the top one.
+He was about to tear open the envelope when there was a sharp knock at
+the door.
+
+"'M'in!" said Mr. Morgan sharply, and at the same moment the silent door
+was thrown open. The diminutive form of the boy stood in the aperture.
+
+"Gentleman to see you, sir," he said, with great solemnity.
+
+"What name?" asked Mr. Bodery.
+
+"Wouldn't give his name, sir--said you didn't know it, sir."
+
+Even this small office-boy was allowed his quantum of discretionary
+power. It rested with him whether an unknown visitor was admitted or
+politely dismissed to a much greater extent than any one suspected. Into
+his manner of announcing a person he somehow managed to convey his
+opinion as to whether it was worth the editor's time to admit him or
+not, and he invariably received Mr. Bodery's "Tell him I'm engaged" with
+a little nod of mutual understanding which was intensely comprehensive.
+
+On this occasion, his manner said, "Have him in, have him in my boy, and
+you will find it worth your while."
+
+"Show him in," said Mr. Bodery.
+
+The nameless gentleman must have been at the door upon the boy's heels,
+for no sooner had the words left Mr. Bodery's lips than a tall, dark
+form slid into the room. So noiseless and rapid were this gentleman's
+movements that there is no other word with which to express his mode of
+progression.
+
+He made a low bow, and shot up erect again with startling rapidity. He
+then stood quietly waiting until the door had closed behind the small
+boy, who, after having punctiliously expectorated upon a silver coin
+which had found its way into the palm of his hand, proceeded to slide
+down the balustrade upon his waistcoat.
+
+It often occurred that strangers addressed themselves to Mr. Morgan when
+ushered into the little back room, under the impression that he was the
+editor of the _Beacon_. Not so, however, this tall, clean-shaven person.
+He fixed his peculiar light-blue eyes upon Mr. Bodery, and, with a
+slight inclination, said suavely--
+
+"This, sir, is, I believe, your printing day?"
+
+"It is, sir, and a busy day with us," replied the editor, with no great
+warmth of manner.
+
+"Would it be possible now," inquired the stranger conversationally, "at
+this late hour, to remove a printed article and substitute another?"
+
+At these words Mr. Morgan ceased making some pencil notes with which he
+was occupied, and looked up. He met the stranger's benign glance and,
+while still looking at him, deliberately turned over all the
+proof-sheets before him, leaving no printed matter exposed to the gaze
+of the curious.
+
+Mr. Bodery had in the meantime consulted his watch.
+
+"Yes," he replied, with dangerous politeness. "There would still be time
+to do so if necessary--at the sacrifice of some hundredweight of paper."
+
+"How marvellously organised your interesting paper must be!"
+
+Dead silence. Most men would have felt embarrassed, but no sign of such
+feeling was forthcoming from any of the three. It is possible that the
+dark gentleman with the sky-blue eyes wished to establish a sense of
+embarrassment with a view to the furtherance of his own ends. If so, his
+attempt proved lamentably abortive. Mr. Bodery sat with his plump hands
+resting on the table, and looked contemplatively up into the stranger's
+face. Mr. Morgan was scribbling pencil notes on a tablet.
+
+"The truth is," explained the stranger at length, "that a friend of
+mine, who is unfortunately ill in bed this morning--"
+
+(Mr. Bodery did not look in the least sympathetic, though he listened
+attentively.)
+
+"... has received a telegram from a gentleman who I am told is on the
+staff of your journal--Mr. Vellacott. This gentleman wishes to withdraw,
+for correction, an article he has sent to you. He states that he will
+re-write the article, with certain alterations, in time for next week's
+issue."
+
+Mr. Bodery's face was pleasantly illegible.
+
+"May I see the telegram?" he asked politely.
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+The stranger produced and handed to the editor a pink paper covered with
+faint black writing.
+
+"You will see at the foot this--Mr. Vellacott's reason for not wiring to
+you direct. He wished my friend to be here before the printers got to
+work this morning; but owing to this unfortunate illness--"
+
+"I am afraid you are too late, sir," interrupted Mr. Bodery briskly.
+"The press is at work--"
+
+"My friend instructed me," interposed the stranger in his turn, "to make
+you rather a difficult proposition. If a thousand pounds will compensate
+for the loss incurred by the delay of issue, and defray the expense of
+paper spoilt--I--I have that amount with me."
+
+Mr. Bodery did not display the least sign of surprise, merely shaking
+his head with a quiet smile. Mr. Morgan, however, laid aside his pencil,
+and placed his elbow upon the proof-sheets before him.
+
+The stranger then stepped forward with a sudden change of manner.
+
+"Mr. Bodery," he said, in a low, concentrated voice, "I will give you
+five hundred pounds for a proof copy of Mr. Vellacott's article."
+
+A dead silence of some moments' duration followed this remark. Mr.
+Morgan raised his head and looked across the table at his chief. The
+editor made an almost imperceptible motion with his eyebrows in the
+direction of the door.
+
+Then Mr. Morgan rose somewhat heavily from his chair, with a hand upon
+either arm, after the manner of a man who is beginning to put on weight
+rapidly. He went to the door, opened it, and, turning towards the
+stranger, said urbanely:
+
+"Sir--the door!"
+
+This kind invitation was not at once accepted.
+
+"You refuse my offers?" said the stranger curtly, without deigning to
+notice the sub-editor.
+
+Mr. Bodery had turned his attention to his letters, of which he was
+cutting open the envelopes, one by one, with a paper-knife, without,
+however, removing the contents. He looked up.
+
+"To-morrow morning," he said, "you will be able to procure a copy from
+any stationer for the trifling sum of sixpence."
+
+Then the stranger walked slowly past Mr. Morgan out of the room.
+
+"A curse on these Englishmen!" he muttered, as he passed down the narrow
+staircase. "If I could only see the article I could tell whether it is
+worth resorting to stronger measures or not. However, that is Talma's
+business to decide, not mine."
+
+Mr. Morgan closed the door of the small room and resumed his seat. He
+then laughed aloud, but Mr. Bodery did not respond.
+
+"That's one of them," observed Mr. Morgan comprehensively.
+
+"Yes," replied the editor, "a dangerous customer. I do not like a
+blue-chinned man."
+
+"I was not much impressed with his diplomatic skill."
+
+"No; but you must remember that he had difficult cards to play. No doubt
+his information was of the scantiest, and--we are not chickens, Morgan."
+
+"No," said Mr. Morgan, with a little sigh. He turned to the revision of
+the proof-sheets again, while the editor began opening and reading his
+telegrams.
+
+"This is a little strong," exclaimed Mr. Morgan, after a few moments of
+silence, broken only by the crackle of paper. "Just listen here:--
+
+"'It simply comes to this--the General of the Society of Jesus is an
+autocrat in the worst sense of the word. He holds within his fingers the
+wires of a vast machine moving with little friction and no noise. No
+farthest corner of the world is entirely beyond its influence; no
+political crisis passes that is not hurried on or restrained by its
+power. Unrecognised, unseen even, and often undreamt of, the vast
+Society does its work. It is not for us who live in a broad-minded,
+tolerant age to judge too harshly. It is not for us to say that the
+Jesuits are unscrupulous and treacherous. Let us be just and give them
+their due. They are undoubtedly earnest in their work, sincere in their
+belief, true to their faith. But it is for us to uphold our own
+integrity. We are accused--as a nation--of stirring up the seeds of
+rebellion, of crime and bloodshed in the heart of another country. Our
+denial is considered insufficient; our evidence is ignored. There
+remains yet to us one mode of self-defence. After denying the crime (for
+crime it is in humane and political sense) we can turn and boldly lay it
+upon those whom its results would chiefly benefit: the Roman Catholic
+Church in general--the Society of Jesus in particular. We have
+endeavoured to show how the followers of Ignatius Loyola could have
+brought about the present crisis in France; the extent to which they
+would benefit by a religious reaction is patent to the most casual
+observer; let the Government of England do the rest.'"
+
+Mr. Bodery was, however, not listening. He was staring vacantly at a
+telegram which lay spread out upon the table.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed huskily.
+
+The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then
+Mr. Bodery read:
+
+"Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last
+night."
+
+Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively
+rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table.
+
+"Who is it from?" he asked.
+
+"Sidney Carew, the man he is staying with."
+
+They remained thus for some moments; the editor looking at the telegram
+with a peculiar blank expression in his eyes; Mr. Morgan staring at him
+while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with outspread finger and thumb.
+In the lane beneath the window some industrious housekeeper was sweeping
+her doorstep with aggravating monotony; otherwise there was no sound.
+
+At length Mr. Morgan rose from his seat and walked slowly to the window.
+He stood gazing out upon the smoke-begrimed roofs and crooked chimneys.
+Between his lips he held his pen, and his hands were thrust deeply into
+his trouser pockets. It was on that spot and in that attitude that he
+usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon "Home
+Affairs." He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which
+stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and
+the supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his
+orders.
+
+"Bradshaw."
+
+"Yess'r," replied the boy, closing the door. His inventive mind had
+conceived a new and improved method of going downstairs. This was to lie
+flat on his back upon the balustrade with a leg dangling on either side.
+If the balance was correct, he slid down rapidly and shot out some feet
+from the bottom, as he had, from an advantageous point of view on
+Blackfriars Bridge, seen sacks of meal shoot from a Thames warehouse
+into the barge beneath. If, however, he made a miscalculation, he
+inevitably rolled off sideways and landed in a heap on the floor. Either
+result appeared to afford him infinite enjoyment and exhilaration. On
+this occasion he performed the feat with marked success.
+
+"Guv'nor's goin' on the loose--wants the railway guide," he confided to
+a small friend in the printing interest whom he met as he was returning
+with the required volume.
+
+"Suppose you'll be sitten' upstairs now, then," remarked the
+black-fingered one with fine sarcasm. Whereupon there followed a
+feint--a desperate lunge to one side, a vigorous bob of the head, and a
+resounding bang with the railway guide in the centre of the sarcastic
+youth's waistcoat.
+
+Having executed a strategic movement, and a masterly retreat up the
+stairs, the small boy leant over the banisters and delivered himself of
+the following explanation:
+
+"I 'it yer one that time. Don't do it agin. _Good_ morning, sir."
+
+Mr. Bodery turned the flimsy leaves impatiently, stopped, looked rapidly
+down a column, and, without raising his eyes from the railway guide,
+tore a telegraph form from the handle of a drawer at his side. Then he
+wrote in a large clear style:
+
+"Will be with you at five o'clock. Invent some excuse for V.'s absence.
+On no account give alarm to authorities."
+
+The sharp boy took the telegram from the editor's hand with an
+expression of profound respect upon his wicked features.
+
+"Go down to Banks," said Mr. Bodery, "ask him to let me have two copies
+of the foreign policy article in ten minutes."
+
+When the silent door was closed, Mr. Morgan wheeled round upon his
+heels, and gazed meditatively at his superior.
+
+"Going down to see these people?" he asked, with a jerk of his head
+towards the West.
+
+"Yes, I am going by the eleven-fifteen."
+
+"I have been thinking," continued the sub-editor, "we may as well keep
+the printing-office door locked to-day. That slippery gentleman with the
+watery eyes meant business, or I am very much mistaken. I'll just send
+upstairs for Bander to go on duty at the shop door to-day as well as
+to-morrow; I think we shall have a big sale this week."
+
+Mr. Bodery rose from his seat and began brushing his faultless hat.
+
+"Yes," he replied; "do that. It would be very easy to get at the
+machinery. Printers are only human!"
+
+"Machinery is ready enough to go wrong when nobody wishes it," murmured
+Mr. Morgan vaguely, as he sat down at the table and began setting the
+scattered papers in order.
+
+Mr. Bodery and his colleagues were in the habit of keeping at the office
+a small bag, containing the luggage necessary for a few nights in case
+of their being suddenly called away. This expedient was due to Christian
+Vellacott's forethought.
+
+The editor now proceeded to stuff into his bag sundry morning newspapers
+and a large cigar case. Telegraph forms, pen, ink, and foolscap paper
+were already there.
+
+"I say, Bodery," said the sub-editor with grave familiarity, "it seems
+to me that you are taking much too serious a view of this matter.
+Vellacott is as wide awake as any man, and it always struck me that he
+was very well able to take care of himself."
+
+"I have a wholesome dread of men who use religion as a means of
+justification. A fanatic is always dangerous."
+
+"A sincere fanatic," suggested the sub-editor.
+
+"Exactly so; and a sincere fanatic in the hands of an agitator is the
+very devil. That is whence these fellows got their power. Half of them
+are fanatics and the other half hypocrites."
+
+Mr. Bodery had now completed his preparations, and he held out his plump
+hand, which the subeditor grasped.
+
+"I hope," said the latter, "that you will find Vellacott at the station
+to meet you--ha, ha!"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"If," said Mr. Morgan, following the editor to the door--"if he turns up
+here, I will wire to Carew and to you, care of the station-master."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+BOOKS
+
+
+The London express rolled with stately deliberation into Brayport
+station. Mr. Bodery folded up his newspapers, reached down his bag from
+the netting, and prepared to alight. The editor of the _Beacon_ had
+enjoyed a very pleasant journey, despite broiling sun and searching
+dust. He knew the possibilities of a first-class smoking-carriage--how
+to regulate the leeward window and chock off the other with a wooden
+match borrowed from the guard.
+
+He stepped from the carriage with the laboured sprightliness of a man
+past the forties, and a moment later Sidney Carew was at his side.
+
+"Mr. Bodery?"
+
+"The same. You are no doubt Mr. Carew?"
+
+"Yes. Thanks for coming. Hope it didn't inconvenience you?"
+
+"Not at all," replied the editor, breaking his return ticket.
+
+"D----n!" said Sidney suddenly.
+
+He was beginning to rise to the occasion. He was one of those men who
+are usually too slack to burthen their souls with a refreshing
+expletive.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired Mr. Bodery gravely.
+
+"There is a man," explained Sidney hurriedly, "getting out of the train
+who is coming to stay with us. I had forgotten his existence. _Don't_
+look round!"
+
+Mr. Bodery was a Londoner. He did not look round. Nine out of ten
+country-bred people would have indulged in a stare.
+
+"Is this all your luggage?" continued Sidney abruptly. He certainly was
+rising.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then come along. We'll bolt for it. He'll have to get a fly, and that
+means ten minutes' start if the porter is not officious and mulls
+things."
+
+They hurried out of the station and clambered into the dog-cart. Sidney
+gathered up the reins.
+
+"Hang it," he exclaimed. "What bad luck! There is a fly waiting. It is
+never there when you want it."
+
+Mr. Bodery looked between the shafts.
+
+"You need not be afraid of that fly," he said.
+
+"No--come up, you brute!"
+
+Mr. Bodery turned carelessly to put his bag in the back of the cart.
+
+"Let him have it," he exclaimed in a low voice. "Your friend sees you,
+but he does not know that you have seen him. He is pointing you out to
+the station-master."
+
+As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard,
+nearly throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the
+whip-socket.
+
+"There," he said, "we are safe. I think I can manage that fly."
+
+Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby
+knees.
+
+"Now," he said, "tell me all about Vellacott."
+
+Sidney did so.
+
+He gave a full and minute description of events previous to Christian
+Vellacott's disappearance, omitting nothing. The relation was somewhat
+disjointed, somewhat vague in parts, and occasionally incoherent. The
+narrator repeated himself--hesitated--blurted out some totally
+irrelevant fact, and finished up with a vague supposition (possessing a
+solid basis of truth) expressed in doubtful English. It suited Mr.
+Bodery admirably. In telling all about Vellacott, Sidney unconsciously
+told all about Mrs. Carew, Molly, Hilda, and himself. When he reached
+the point in his narration telling how Vellacott had been attracted into
+the garden, he became extremely vague and his style notably colloquial.
+Tell the story how he would, he felt that he could not prevent Mr.
+Bodery from drawing his own inferences. Young ladies are not in the
+habit of whistling for youthful members of the opposite sex. Few of them
+master the labial art, which perhaps accounts for much. Sidney Carew was
+conscious that his style lacked grace and finish.
+
+Mr. Bodery did draw his own inferences, but the countenance into which
+Sidney glanced at intervals was one of intense stolidity.
+
+"Well, I confess I cannot make it out--at present," he said; "Vellacott
+has written to us only on business matters. We publish to-morrow a very
+good article of his purporting to be the dream of an overworked
+_attache_. It is very cutting and very incriminating. The Government
+cannot well avoid taking some notice of it. My only hope is that he is
+in Paris. There is something brewing over there. Our Paris agent wired
+for Vellacott this morning. By the way, Mr. Carew, is there a monastery
+somewhere in this part of the country?"
+
+"Down that valley," replied Sidney, pointing with his whip.
+
+"In Vellacott's article there is mention of a monastery--not too
+minutely described, however. There are also some remarkable suppositions
+respecting an old foreigner living in seclusion. Could that be the man
+you mentioned just now--Signor Bruno?"
+
+"Hardly. Bruno is a harmless old soul," replied Sidney, pulling up to
+turn into the narrow gateway.
+
+There was no time to make further inquiries.
+
+Sidney led the way into the drawing-room. The ladies were there.
+
+"My mother, Mr. Bodery--my sister; my sister Hilda," he blurted out
+awkwardly.
+
+Mrs. Carew shook hands, and the two young ladies bowed. They were all
+disappointed in Mr. Bodery. He was too calm and comfortable--also there
+was a suggestion of cigar smoke in his presence, which jarred.
+
+"I am sorry," said the Londoner, with genial self-possession, "to owe
+the pleasure of this visit to such an unfortunate incident."
+
+Molly felt that she hated him.
+
+"Then you have heard nothing of Christian?" said Mrs. Carew.
+
+"Nothing," replied Mr. Bodery, removing his tight gloves. "But it is too
+soon to think of getting anxious yet. Vellacott is eminently capable of
+taking care of himself--he is, above all things, a journalist. Things
+are disturbed in Paris, and it is possible that he has run across
+there."
+
+Mrs. Carew smiled somewhat incredulously.
+
+"It was a singular time to start," observed Hilda quietly.
+
+Mr. Bodery turned and looked at her.
+
+"Master mind in _this_ house," he reflected.
+
+"Yes," he admitted aloud.
+
+He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The
+others watched him in silence.
+
+"Do you take sugar and cream?" inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the
+second time.
+
+"Please--both. In moderation."
+
+"I say," interrupted Sidney at this moment, "the Vicomte d'Audierne is
+following us in a fly. He will be here in five minutes."
+
+Mrs. Carew nodded. She had not forgotten this guest.
+
+"The Vicomte d'Audierne," said Mr. Bodery, with considerable interest,
+turning away from the tea-table, cup in hand. "Is that the man who got
+out of my train?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sidney; "do you know him?"
+
+"I have heard of him." Mr. Bodery turned and took a slice of bread and
+butter from a plate which Hilda held.
+
+At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels.
+
+"By the way," said the editor of the _Beacon_, raising his voice so as
+to command universal attention, "do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne
+about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do
+not tell him of my connection with the _Beacon_."
+
+The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
+Bodery when the door was thrown open, and a servant announced M.
+d'Audierne.
+
+He who entered immediately afterwards--with an almost indecent
+haste--was of middle height, with a certain intrepid carriage of the
+head which appeals to such as take pleasure in the strength and
+endurance of men. His face, which was clean shaven, was the face of a
+hawk, with the contracted myope vision characteristic of that bird. It
+is probable that from the threshold he took in every occupant of the
+room.
+
+"Mrs. Carew," he said in a pleasant voice, speaking almost faultless
+English, "after all these years. What a pleasure!"
+
+He shook hands, turning at the same time to the others.
+
+"And Sid," he said, "and Molly--wicked little Molly. Never mind--your
+antecedents are safe. I am silent as the grave."
+
+This was not strictly true. He was as deep, and deeper than the
+resting-place mentioned, but his method was superior to silence.
+
+"And Hilda," he continued, "thoughtful little Hilda, who was always too
+busy to be naughty. Not like Molly, eh?"
+
+"Heavens! How old it makes one feel!" he exclaimed, turning to Mrs.
+Carew.
+
+The lady laughed.
+
+"You are not changed, at all events," she said. "Allow me to introduce
+Mr. Bodery--the Vicomte d'Audierne."
+
+The two men bowed.
+
+"Much pleasure," said the Frenchman.
+
+Mr. Bodery bowed again in an insular manner, which just escaped
+awkwardness, and said nothing.
+
+Then Molly offered the new-comer some tea, and the party broke up into
+groups. But the Vicomte's personality in some subtle manner pervaded the
+room. Mr. Bodery lapsed into monosyllables and felt ponderous. Monsieur
+d'Audierne had it in his power to make most men feel ponderous when the
+spirit moved him in that direction.
+
+As soon as tea was finally disposed of Mrs. Carew proposed an
+adjournment to the garden. She was desirous of getting Mr. Bodery to
+herself.
+
+It fell to Hilda's lot to undertake the Frenchman. They had been great
+friends once, and she was quite ready to renew the pleasant
+relationship. She led her guest to the prettiest part of the garden--the
+old overgrown footpath around the moat.
+
+As soon as they had passed under the nut-trees into the open space at
+the edge of the water, the Vicomte d'Audierne stopped short and looked
+round him curiously. At the same time he gave a strange little laugh.
+
+"_Hein--hein--c'est drole_," he muttered, and the girl remembered that
+in the old friendship between the brilliant, middle-aged diplomatist and
+the little child they had always spoken French. She liked to hear him
+speak his own language, for in his lips it received full justice: it was
+the finest tongue spoken on this earth. But she did not feel disposed
+just then to humour him. She looked at him wonderingly as his deep eyes
+wandered over the scene.
+
+While they stood there, something--probably a kestrel--disturbed the
+rooks dwelling in the summits of the still elms across the moat, and
+they rose simultaneously in the air with long-drawn cries.
+
+"Ah! Ah--h!" said the Vicomte, with a singular smile.
+
+And then Hilda forgot her shyness.
+
+"What is it?" she inquired in the language she had always spoken to this
+man.
+
+He turned and walked beside her, suiting his steps to hers, for some
+moments before replying.
+
+"I was not here at all," he said at length, apologetically; "I was far
+away from you. It was impolite. I am sorry."
+
+He intended that she should laugh, and she did so softly. "Where were
+you?" she inquired, glancing at him beneath her golden lashes.
+
+Again he paused.
+
+"There is," he said at length, "an old _chateau_ in Morbihan--many
+miles from a railway--in the heart of a peaceful country. It has a moat
+like this--there are elms--there are rooks that swing up into the air
+like that and call--and one does not know why they do it, and what they
+are calling. Listen, little girl--they are calling something. What is
+it? I think I was _there_. It was impolite--I am sorry, Miss Carew."
+
+She laughed again sympathetically and without mirth; for she was meant
+to laugh.
+
+He looked back over his shoulder at times as if the calling of the rooks
+jarred upon his nerves.
+
+"I do not think I like them--" he said, "now."
+
+He was not apparently disposed to be loquacious as he had been at first.
+Possibly the rooks had brought about this change. Hilda also had her
+thoughts. At times she glanced at the water with a certain shrinking in
+her heart. She had not yet forgotten the moments she had passed at the
+edge of the moat the night before. They walked right round the moat and
+down a little pathway through the elm wood without speaking. The rooks
+had returned to their nests and only called to each other querulously at
+intervals.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, little girl," said the Vicomte d'Audierne
+suddenly, "to doubt the wisdom of the Creator's arrangements for our
+comfort, or otherwise, here below?"
+
+"I suppose not," he went on, without waiting for an answer, which she
+remembered as an old trick of his. "You are a woman--it is different for
+you."
+
+The girl said nothing. She may have thought differently; one cannot
+always read a maiden's thoughts.
+
+They walked on together. Suddenly the Vicomte d'Audierne spoke.
+
+"Who is this?" he said.
+
+Hilda followed the direction of his eyes.
+
+"That," she answered, "is Signor Bruno. An old Italian exile. A friend
+of ours."
+
+Bruno came forward, hat in hand, bowing and smiling in his charming way.
+
+Hilda introduced the two men, speaking in French.
+
+"I did not know," said Signor Bruno, with outspread hands, "that you
+spoke French like a Frenchwoman."
+
+Hilda laughed.
+
+"Had it," she said, with a sudden inspiration, "been Italian, I should
+have told you."
+
+There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "learnt most of it from me. We are old
+friends."
+
+Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
+
+"Ah--but is that so?" he murmured conversationally.
+
+"Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me," replied the Vicomte
+carelessly.
+
+Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not imagine, little girl," replied d'Audierne, "that you could
+learn very much that is good from me."
+
+Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the
+nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor
+Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew
+and Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his
+handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a
+slight delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.
+
+Before the two foreigners came up with Hilda, who had walked on, Signor
+Bruno found time to say:
+
+"I must see you to-night, without fail; I am in a very difficult
+position. I have had to resort to strong measures."
+
+"Where?" inquired the Vicomte d'Audierne, with that pleasant nonchalance
+which is so aggravating to the People.
+
+"In the village, any time after nine; a yellow cottage near the well."
+
+"Good!"
+
+And they joined Hilda Carew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+FOES
+
+
+It is only when our feelings are imaginary that we analyse them. When
+the real thing comes--the thing that only does come to a few of us--we
+can only feel it, and there is no thought of analysis. Moreover, the
+action is purely involuntary. We feel strange things--such things as
+murder--and we cannot help feeling it. We may cringe and shrink; we may
+toss in our beds when we wake up with such thoughts living, moving,
+having their being in our brains--but we cannot toss them off. The very
+attempt to do so is a realisation, and from consciousness we spring to
+knowledge. We know that in our hearts we are thieves, murderers,
+slanderers; we know that if we read of such thoughts in a novel we
+should hold the thinker in all horror; but we are distinctly conscious
+all the time that these thoughts are our own. This is just the
+difference existing between artificial feelings and real: the one bears
+analysis, the other cannot.
+
+Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the
+arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of
+the little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with
+singular care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual,
+but all the while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda
+Carew. At certain moments she wondered with a throb of apprehension
+whether the difference which was so glaringly patent to herself could
+possibly be hidden from others. She caught strange inflections in her
+own voice which she knew had never been there before--her own laughter
+was a new thing to her. And yet she went on through dinner and until
+bedtime, acting this strange part without break, without fault--a part
+which had never been rehearsed and never learnt: a part which was
+utterly artificial and yet totally without art, for it came naturally.
+
+And through it all she feared the Vicomte d'Audierne. Mr. Bodery counted
+for nothing. He made a very good dinner, was genial and even witty in a
+manner befitting his years and station. Mrs. Carew was fully engaged
+with her guests, and Molly was on lively terms with the Vicomte; while
+Sidney, old Sidney--no one counted him. It was only the Vicomte who
+paused at intervals during his frugal meal, and looked across the table
+towards the young girl with those deep, impenetrable eyes--shadowless,
+gleamless, like velvet.
+
+When bedtime at length arrived, she was quite glad to get away from that
+kind, unobtrusive scrutiny of which she alone was aware. She went to her
+room, and sitting wearily on the bed she realised for the first time in
+her life the incapacity to think. It is a realisation which usually
+comes but once or twice in a lifetime, and we are therefore unable to
+get accustomed to it. She was conscious of intense pressure within her
+brain, of a hopeless weight upon her heart, but she could define
+neither. She rose at length, and mechanically went to bed like one in a
+trance. In the same way she fell asleep.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Bodery, Sidney Carew, and the Vicomte d'Audierne
+were smoking in the little room at the side of the porch. A single lamp
+with a red shade hung from the ceiling in the centre of this room,
+hardly giving enough light to read by. There were half-a-dozen deep
+armchairs, a divan, and two or three small tables--beyond that nothing.
+Sidney's father had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation
+of Oriental ways. It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but
+merely a smoking-room. Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and
+through the thin smoke he glanced persistently at the Vicomte
+d'Audierne. The Vicomte did not return this attention; he glanced at the
+clock instead. He was thinking of Signor Bruno, but he was too polite
+and too diplomatic to give way to restlessness.
+
+At last Mr. Bodery opened fire from, as it were, a masked battery; for
+he knew that the Frenchman was ignorant of his connection with one of
+the leading political papers of the day. It was a duel between sheer
+skill and confident foreknowledge. When Mr. Bodery spoke, Sidney Carew
+leant back in his chair and puffed vigorously at his briar pipe.
+
+"Things," said the Englishman, "seem to be very unsettled in France just
+now."
+
+The Vicomte was engaged in rolling a cigarette, and he finished the
+delicate operation before looking up with a grave smile.
+
+"Yes," he said. "In Paris. But Paris is not France. That fact is hardly
+realised in England, I think."
+
+"What," inquired Mr. Bodery, with that conversational heaviness of touch
+which is essentially British, "is the meaning of this disturbance?"
+
+Sidney Carew was enveloped in a perfect cloud of smoke.
+
+For a moment--and a moment only--the Vicomte's profound gaze rested on
+the Englishman's face. Mr. Bodery was evidently absorbed in the
+enjoyment of his cigar. The smile that lay on his genial face like a
+mask was the smile of a consciousness that he was making himself
+intensely pleasant, and adapting his conversation to his company in a
+quite phenomenal way.
+
+"Ah!" replied the Frenchman, with a neat little shrug of bewilderment.
+"Who can tell? Probably there is no meaning in it. There is so often no
+meaning in the action of a Parisian mob."
+
+"Many things without meaning are not without result."
+
+Again the Vicomte looked at Mr. Bodery, and again he was baffled.
+
+"You only asked me the meaning," he said lightly. "I am glad you did not
+inquire after the result; because there I should indeed have been at
+fault. I always argue to myself that it is useless to trouble one's
+brain about results. I leave such matters to the good God. He will
+probably do just as well without my assistance."
+
+"You are a philosopher," said Mr. Bodery, with a pleasant and friendly
+laugh.
+
+"Thank Heaven--yes! Look at my position. Fancy carrying in France to-day
+a name that is to be found in the most abridged history. One needs to be
+a philosopher, Mr. Bodery."
+
+"But," suggested the Englishman, "there may be changes. It may all come
+right."
+
+The Vicomte sipped his whisky and water with vicious emphasis.
+
+"If it began at once," he said, "it would never be right in my time. Not
+as it used to be. And in the meantime we are in the present--in the
+present France is governed by newspaper men."
+
+Sidney drew in his feet and coughed. Some of his smoke had gone astray.
+
+Mr. Bodery looked sympathetic.
+
+"Yes," he said calmly, "that really seems to be the case."
+
+"And newspaper men," pursued the Vicomte, "what are they? Men of no
+education, no position, no sense of honour. The great aim of politicians
+in France to-day is the aggrandisement of themselves."
+
+Mr. Bodery yawned.
+
+"Ah!" he said, with a glance towards Sidney.
+
+Perhaps the Frenchman saw the glance, perhaps he was deceived by the
+yawn. At all events, he rose and expressed a desire to retire to his
+room. He was tired, he said, having been travelling all the previous
+night.
+
+Mr. Bodery had not yet finished his cigar, so he rose and shook hands
+without displaying any intention of following the Vicomte's example.
+
+Sidney lighted a candle, one of many standing on a side table, and led
+the way upstairs. They walked through the long, dimly lighted corridors
+in silence, and it was only when they had arrived in the room set apart
+for the Vicomte d'Audierne that this gentleman spoke.
+
+"By the way," he said, "who is this person--this Mr. Bodery? He was not
+a friend of your father's." Sidney was lighting the tall candles that
+stood upon the dressing-table, and the combined illumination showed with
+remarkable distinctness the reflection of his face in the mirror. From
+whence he stood the Frenchman could see this reflection.
+
+"He is the friend of a great friend of mine; that is how we know him,"
+replied Sidney, prizing up the wick of a candle. He was still rising to
+the occasion--this dull young Briton. Then he turned. "Christian
+Vellacott," he said; "you knew his father?"
+
+"Ah, yes: I knew his father."
+
+Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any
+intention of being deterred.
+
+"His father," continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively,
+"was brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?"
+
+"I think so. Good night."
+
+"Good night."
+
+When the door was closed the Vicomte looked at his watch. It was almost
+midnight.
+
+"The Reverend Father Talma will have to wait till to-morrow morning," he
+said to himself. "I cannot go to him to-night. It would be too
+theatrical. That old gentleman is getting too old for his work."
+
+In the meantime, Sidney returned to the little smoking-room at the side
+of the porch. There he found Mr. Bodery smoking with his usual
+composure. The younger man forbore asking any questions. He poured out
+for himself some whisky, and opened a bottle of soda-water with
+deliberate care and noiselessness.
+
+"That man," said Mr. Bodery at length, "knows nothing about Vellacott."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I am convinced of it. By the way, who is the old gentleman who came to
+tea this afternoon?"
+
+"Signor Bruno, do you mean?"
+
+"I suppose so--that super-innocent old man with the white hair who wears
+window-glass spectacles."
+
+"Are they window-glass?" asked Sidney, with a little laugh.
+
+"They struck me as window-glass--quite flat. Who is he--beyond his name,
+I mean?"
+
+"He is an Italian refugee--lives in the village."
+
+Mr. Bodery had taken his silver pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and
+was rolling it backwards and forwards on the table. This was indicative
+of the fact that the editor of the _Beacon_ was thinking deeply.
+
+"Ah! And how long has he been here?"
+
+"Only a few weeks."
+
+Mr. Bodery looked up sharply.
+
+"Is _that_ all?" he inquired, with an eager little laugh.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then, my dear sir, Vellacott is right. That old man is at the bottom of
+it. This Vicomte d'Audierne, what do you know of him?"
+
+"Personally?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is an old friend of my father's. In fact, he is a friend of the
+family. He calls the girls by their Christian names, as you have heard
+to-night."
+
+"Yes; I noticed that. And he came here to-day merely on a friendly
+visit?"
+
+"That is all. Why do you ask?" inquired Sidney, who was getting rather
+puzzled.
+
+"I know nothing of him personally--except what I have learnt to-day. For
+my own part, I like him," answered Mr. Bodery. "He is keen and clever.
+Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman. But, politically speaking, he is
+one of the most dangerous men in France. He is a Jesuit, an active
+Royalist, and a staunch worker for the Church party. I don't know much
+about French politics--that is Vellacott's department. But I know that
+if he were here, and knew of the Vicomte's presence in England, he would
+be very much on the alert."
+
+"Then," asked Sidney, "do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here
+with the absence of Vellacott?"
+
+"There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly.
+Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a
+scoundrel."
+
+Sidney thought deeply.
+
+"He may be," he admitted.
+
+"I do not," pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, "think
+that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion."
+
+"He asked who you were--if you were a friend of my father's."
+
+"And you said--"
+
+"No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned
+Vellacott's name. He knew his father very well."
+
+"Were you"--asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and
+rising from his deep chair--"were you looking at the Vicomte when you
+answered the question?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And there was no sign of discomfort--no flicker of the eyelids, for
+instance?"
+
+"No; nothing."
+
+Mr. Bodery nodded his head in a businesslike way, indicative of the fact
+that he was engaged in assimilating a good deal of useful information.
+
+"There is nothing to be done to-night," he said presently, as he made a
+movement towards the door, "but to go to bed. To-morrow the _Beacon_
+will be published, and the result will probably be rather startling. We
+shall hear something before to-morrow afternoon."
+
+Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands.
+
+"By the way," said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly,
+"if any one should inquire--your mother or one of your sisters--you can
+say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A RETREAT
+
+
+It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left
+his room. As he walked along the still corridor and down the stairs it
+was noticeable that he made absolutely no sound, without, however,
+indulging in any of those contortions which are peculiar to late
+arrivals in church. It would seem that Nature had for purposes of her
+own made his footfall noiseless--if, by the way, Nature can be credited
+with any purpose whatever in her allotment of human gifts and failings.
+
+In the hall he found a stout cook armed for assault upon the front-door
+step.
+
+"Good morning," he said. "Can you tell me the breakfast-hour? I forgot
+to inquire last night."
+
+"Nine o'clock, sir," replied the servant, rather taken aback at the
+thought of having this visitor dependent upon her for entertainment
+during the next hour and a half.
+
+"Ah--and it is not yet eight. Never mind. I will go into the garden. I
+am fond of fruit before breakfast."
+
+He took his hat and lounged away towards the kitchen-garden which lay
+near the moat.
+
+"And now," he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way,
+"where is this pestilential village?"
+
+The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the
+Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where
+Signor Bruno was lodging.
+
+The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the
+door before the Vicomte reached it.
+
+He turned and led the way into a little room on the right hand of the
+narrow passage. A little room intensely typical: china dogs, knitted
+antimacassars of a brilliant tendency, and horse-hair covered furniture.
+There was even the usual stuffy odour as if the windows, half-hidden
+behind muslin curtains and scarlet geraniums, were never opened from one
+year's end to another.
+
+Signor Bruno closed the door before speaking. Then he turned upon his
+companion with something very like fury glittering in his eyes.
+
+"Why did you not come last night?" he asked. "I am left alone to contend
+against one difficulty on the top of another. Read that!"
+
+He drew from his pocket a thin and somewhat crumpled sheet of paper,
+upon which there were two columns of printed matter.
+
+"That," he said, "cost us two thousand francs." The Vicomte d'Audierne
+read the printed matter carefully from beginning to end. He had
+approached the window because the light was bad, and when he finished he
+looked up for a few minutes, out of the little casement, upon the quiet
+village scene.
+
+"The _Beacon_," he said, turning round, "what is that?"
+
+"A leading weekly newspaper."
+
+"Published--?
+
+"To-day," snapped Signor Bruno.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne made a little grimace.
+
+"Who wrote this?" he inquired.
+
+"Christian Vellacott, son of _the_ Vellacott, whom you knew in the old
+days."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was something in the Vicomte's expressive voice that made Signor
+Bruno look at him sharply with some apprehension.
+
+"Why do you say that?"
+
+The Vicomte countered with another question.
+
+"Who is this Mr. Bodery?"
+
+He gave a little jerk with his head in the direction of the house he had
+just left.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"I was told last night that he was a friend of this Christian
+Vellacott--a protector."
+
+The two Frenchmen looked at each other in silence. Signor Bruno was
+evidently alarmed--his lips were white and unsteady. There was a smile
+upon the bird-like face of the younger man, and behind his spectacles
+his eyes glittered with an excitement in which there was obviously no
+fear.
+
+"Do you know," he asked in a disagreeably soft manner, "where Christian
+Vellacott is?"
+
+Across the benevolent old face of Signor Bruno here came a very evil
+smile.
+
+"You will do better not to ask me that question," he replied, "unless
+you mean to run for it--as I do."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne looked at his companion in a curious way.
+
+"You had," he said, "at one time no rival as a man of action--"
+
+Signor Bruno shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I am a man of action still."
+
+The Vicomte folded the proof-sheet carefully, handed it back to his
+companion, and said:
+
+"Then I understand that--there will be no more of these very clever
+articles?"
+
+Bruno nodded his head.
+
+"I ask no questions," continued the other. "It is better so. I shall
+stay where I am for a few days, unless it grows too hot--unless I think
+it expedient to vanish."
+
+"You have courage?"
+
+"No; I have impertinence--that is all. There will be a storm--a
+newspaper storm. The embassies will be busy; in the English Parliament
+some pompous fool will ask a question, and be snubbed for his pains. In
+the _Chambre_ the newspaper men will rant and challenge each other in
+the corridors; and it will blow over. In the meantime we have got what
+we want, and we can hide it till we have need of it. Your Reverence and
+I have met difficulties together before this one."
+
+But Signor Bruno was not inclined to fall in with these optimistic
+views.
+
+"I am not so sure," he said, "that we have got what we want. There has
+been no acknowledgment of receipt of the last parcel--in the usual
+way--the English _Standard_."
+
+"What was the last parcel?"
+
+"Fifty thousand cartridges."
+
+"But they were sent?"
+
+"Yes; they were despatched in the usual way; but, as I say, they have
+not been acknowledged. There may have been some difficulty on the other
+side. Our police are not so easy-going as these coastguard gentlemen."
+
+"Well," said the aristocrat, with that semi-bantering lightness of
+manner which sometimes aggravated, and always puzzled, his colleagues,
+"we will not give ourselves trouble over that: the matter is out of our
+hands. Let us rather think of ourselves. Have you money?"
+
+"Yes--I have sufficient."
+
+"It is now eight o'clock--this newspaper--this precious _Beacon_ is now
+casting its light into some dark intellects in London. It will take
+those intellects two hours to assimilate the information, and one more
+hour to proceed to action. You have, therefore, three hours in which to
+make yourself scarce."
+
+"I have arranged that," replied the old man calmly. "There is a small
+French potato-ship lying at Exmouth. In two hours I shall be one of her
+crew."
+
+"That is well. And the others?"
+
+"The others left yesterday afternoon. They cross by this morning's boat
+from Southampton to Cherbourg. You see how much I have had to do."
+
+"I see also, my friend, how well you have done it."
+
+"And now," said Signor Bruno, ignoring the compliment, "I must go. We
+will walk away by the back garden across the fields. You must remember
+that you may have been seen coming here."
+
+"I have thought of that. One old man saw me, but he did not look at me
+twice. He will not know me again. And your landlady--where is she?"
+
+"I have sent her out on a fool's errand."
+
+As they spoke they left the little cottage by the back door, as Signor
+Bruno had proposed, through the little garden, and across some low-lying
+fields. Presently they parted, Signor Bruno turning to the left, while
+the Vicomte d'Audierne kept to the right.
+
+"We shall meet, I suppose," were the last words of the younger man, "in
+the Rue St. Gingolphe?"
+
+"Yes--in the Rue St. Gingolphe."
+
+For so old a man the pace at which Signor Bruno breasted the hill that
+lay before him was somewhat remarkable. The Vicomte d'Audierne, on the
+other hand, was evidently blessed with a greater leisure. He looked at
+his watch and strolled on through the dew-laden meadows, wrapt in
+thought as in a cloak that hid the sweet freshness of the flowery
+hedgerows, that muffled the broken song of the busy birds, that killed
+the scent of ripening hay. Thus these two singular men parted--and it
+happened that they were never to meet again. These little things _do_
+happen. We meet with gravity; we part with a smile; perhaps we make an
+appointment; possibly we speak of the pleasure that the meeting seems to
+promise: and the next meeting is put off; it belongs to the great
+postponement.
+
+Often we part with an indifferent nod, as these two men parted amidst
+the sylvan peace of English meadow on that summer morning. They belonged
+to two different stations in life almost as far apart as two social
+stations could be, even in a republic. They were not, in any sense of
+the word, friends; they were merely partners, intensely awake, as
+partners usually are, to each other's shortcomings.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne probably thought no more of Signor Bruno from the
+moment that he raised his hat and turned. A few moments later his
+thoughts were evidently far away.
+
+"The son of Vellacott," he muttered, as he took a cigarette from a neat
+silver case. "How strange! And yet I am sorry. He might have done
+something in the world. That article was clever--very clever--curse it!
+He cannot yet be thirty. But one would expect something from the son of
+a man like Vellacott."
+
+It was not yet nine o'clock when the Vicomte entered the dining-room by
+the open window. Only Hilda was there, and she was busy with the old
+leather post-bag. Among the letters there were several newspapers, and
+the Vicomte d'Audierne's expression underwent a slight change on
+perceiving them. His thin, mobile lips were closely pressed, and his
+chin--a very short one--was thrust forward. Behind the gentle spectacles
+his eyes assumed for a moment that singular blinking look which cannot
+be described in English, for it seemed to change their colour. In his
+country it would have been called _glauque_.
+
+"Ah, Hilda!" he said, approaching slowly, "do I see newspapers? I love a
+newspaper!"
+
+She handed him the _Times_ enveloped in a yellow wrapper, upon which was
+printed her brother's name and address.
+
+"Ah," he said lightly, "the _Times_--estimable, but just a trifle
+opaque. Is that all?"
+
+His eyes were fixed upon two packets she held in her hand.
+
+"These are Mr. Bodery's," she replied, looking at him with some
+concentration.
+
+"And what newspaper does Mr. Bodery read?" asked the Frenchman, holding
+out his hand.
+
+She hesitated for a moment. His position with regard to her was
+singular, his ascendency over her had never been tried. It was an
+unknown quantity; but the Vicomte d'Audierne knew his own power.
+
+"Let me look, little girl," he said quietly in French.
+
+She handed him the newspapers, still watching his face.
+
+"The _Beacon_," he muttered, reading aloud from the ornamented wrapper,
+"a weekly journal."
+
+He threw the papers down and returned to the _Times_, which he unfolded.
+
+"Tell me, Hilda," he said, "is Mr. Bodery connected with this weekly
+journal, the _Beacon?_"
+
+Her back was turned towards him. She was hanging up the key of the
+post-bag on a nail beside the fireplace.
+
+"Yes," she replied, without looking round.
+
+"Is he the editor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne turned the _Times_ carelessly.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered, "the phylloxera has appeared again."
+
+For some time he appeared to be absorbed in this piece of news, then he
+spoke again.
+
+"I knew something of a man who writes for that newspaper--the _Beacon_.
+I knew his father very well."
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Vicomte glanced at her.
+
+"Christian Vellacott," he said.
+
+"We know him also," she answered, moving towards the bell. He made a
+step forward as if about to offer to ring the bell for her, but she was
+too quick.
+
+When the butler entered the room, Hilda reminded him of some small
+omission in setting out the breakfast-table. The item required was in
+the room, and the man set it upon the table with some decision and a
+slightly aggrieved cast of countenance.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne raised his eyes, and then he looked very grave.
+He was a singular man in many ways, but those who worked with him were
+aware of one peculiarity which by its prominence cast others into the
+shade. He possessed a very useful gift rarely given to men--the gift of
+intuition. It was dangerous to _think_ when the eyes of the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were upon one's face. He had a knack of knowing one's
+thoughts before they were even formulated. He looked grave--almost
+distressed--on this occasion, because he knew something of which Hilda
+herself was ignorant. He knew that she was engaged to be married to one
+man while she loved another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+AN EMPTY NEST
+
+
+In the middle of breakfast a card was handed to Sidney Carew. He glanced
+at it, nodded his head as a signal to the servant that he need not wait,
+and slipped the card into his pocket. Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte
+d'Audierne were watching him.
+
+Presently he rose from the table and left the room. Mrs. Carew became
+suddenly lively, and the meal went on unconcernedly. It was not long
+before Sidney came back.
+
+"Do you want," he said to his mother, "some tickets for a concert at
+Brayport on the 4th of next month?"
+
+"What sort of a concert?"
+
+Sidney consulted the tickets.
+
+"In aid," he read, "of an orphanage--the Police Orphanage."
+
+"We always take six tickets," put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to
+seek her pocket.
+
+"Mr. Bodery," said Sidney, at this moment, "you have nothing to eat. Let
+me cut you some ham."
+
+He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
+
+"I prefer to carve it myself," he replied, proceeding to do so.
+
+Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was
+talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+"The London police are here already," whispered Sidney; "shall I say
+anything about Vellacott?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
+
+"I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now."
+
+"Right," replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
+
+Sidney left the room again, and the Vicomte d'Audierne detected the
+quick, anxious glance directed by Hilda at his retreating form. A few
+minutes later young Carew rode away from the house in company with two
+men, while a fourth horseman followed closely.
+
+He who rode on Sidney's left hand was a tall, grizzled man, with the
+bearing of a soldier, while his second companion was fair and gentle in
+manner. The soldier was Captain Pharland, District Inspector of Police;
+the civilian was the keenest detective in London.
+
+"Of course," said this man, who sat his hired horse with perfect
+confidence. "Of course we are too late, I know that."
+
+He spoke softly and somewhat slowly; his manner was essentially that of
+a man accustomed to the entire attention of his hearers.
+
+"The old Italian," he continued, "who went under the name of Signor
+Bruno, disappeared this morning. It is just possible that he will
+succeed in getting out of the country. It all depends upon who he is."
+
+"Who do you suppose he is?" asked Captain Pharland. He was an upright
+old British soldier, and felt ill at ease in the society of his
+celebrated _confrere_.
+
+"I don't know," was the frank reply; "you see this is not a criminal
+affair, it is entirely political; it is hardly in my line of country."
+
+They rode on in silence for a space of time, during which Captain
+Pharland lighted a cigar and offered one to his companions. Sidney
+accepted, but the gentleman from London refused quietly, and without
+explanation. It was he who spoke first.
+
+"Mr. Carew," he said, "can you tell me when this monastery was first
+instituted at Porton Abbey?"
+
+"Last autumn."
+
+The thin flaxen eyebrows went up very high, until they were lost to
+sight beneath the hat brim.
+
+"Did they--ah--deal with the local tradesmen?"
+
+"No," replied Sidney, "I think not. They received all their stores by
+train from London."
+
+"And you have never seen any of the monks?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+The fair-haired gentleman gave a little upward jerk of the head and
+smiled quietly for his own satisfaction.
+
+He did not speak again until the cavalcade reached Porton Abbey. The old
+place looked very peaceful in the morning light, standing grimly in the
+midst of that soft lush grass which only grows over old habitations.
+
+One side of the long, low building was in good repair, while the other
+half had been allowed to crumble away. The narrow Norman windows had
+been framed with unpainted wood and cheap glass. The broad doorway had
+been partly filled in with unseasoned deal, and an inexpensive door had
+been fitted up.
+
+The bell-knob was of brass, new and glaring in the morning sun. The
+gentleman from London, having alighted, took gently hold of this and
+rang. A faint tinkle rewarded him. It was the peculiar sound of a bell
+ringing in an empty house. After a moment's pause he wrenched the bell
+nearly out of its socket, and a long peal was the result. At last this
+ceased, and there was no sound in the house. The fair man looked back
+over his shoulder at Captain Pharland.
+
+"Gone!" he said tersely.
+
+Then he took from his breast pocket a little bar in the shape of a
+lever. He introduced the bent end of this between the door and the post,
+just above the keyhole, and gave a sharp jerk. There was a short crack
+like that made by the snapping of cast iron, and the door flew open.
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the man went in, followed closely by
+Sidney and Captain Pharland.
+
+The birds had flown. As mysteriously as they had come, the devotees had
+vanished. Bare walls met the eyes of the searchers. Porton Abbey stood
+empty again after its brief return to life and warmth, and indeed it
+scarcely looked habitable. The few personal effects of the simple monks
+had been removed; the walls and stone floors were rigidly clean; the
+small chapel showed signs of recent repair. There was an altar-cloth, a
+crucifix, and two brass candlesticks.
+
+The gentleman from London noted these items with a cynical smile. He had
+instinctively removed his hat; it is just possible that there was
+another side to this man's life--a side wherein he dealt with men who
+were not openly villains. He may have been a churchwarden at home.
+
+"Clever beggars!" he ejaculated, "they were ready for every emergency."
+
+Captain Pharland pointed to the altar with his heavy riding-whip.
+
+"Then," he said, "you think this all humbug?"
+
+"I do. They were no more monks than we are."
+
+The search did not last much longer. Only a few rooms had been
+inhabited, and there was absolutely nothing left--no shred of evidence,
+no clue whatever.
+
+"Yes," said the fair-haired man, when they had finished their
+inspection, "these were exceptional men; they knew their business."
+
+As they left the house he paused, and closed the door again, remaining
+inside.
+
+"You see," he said, "there is not even a bolt on the door. They knew
+better than to depend on bolts and bars. They knew a trick worth two of
+that."
+
+At the gate they met a small, inoffensive man, with a brown beard and a
+walking-stick. There was nothing else to say about him; without the
+beard and the walking-stick there would have been nothing left to know
+him by.
+
+"That is my assistant," announced the London detective quietly. "He has
+been down to the cliff."
+
+The two men stepped aside together, and consulted in an undertone for
+some time. Then the last speaker returned to Captain Pharland and
+Sidney, who were standing together.
+
+"That newspaper," he said, "the _Beacon_, is word for word right. My
+assistant has been to the spot. The arms and ammunition have undoubtedly
+been shipped from this place. The cases of cartridges mentioned by the
+man who wrote the article as having been seen, in a dream, half-way down
+the cliff, are actually there; my assistant has seen them."
+
+Captain Pharland scratched his honest cavalry head. He was beginning to
+regret that he had accepted the post of district inspector of the
+police. Sidney Carew puffed at his pipe in silence.
+
+"Of course," said the detective, "the newspaper man got all this
+information through the treachery of one of the party. I should like to
+get hold of that traitor. He would be a useful man to know."
+
+In this the astute gentleman from London betrayed his extremely limited
+knowledge of the Society of Jesus. There are no traitors in that vast
+corporation.
+
+Sidney and Captain Pharland rode home together, leaving the two
+detectives to find their way to Brayport Station.
+
+They rode in silence, for the Captain was puzzled, and his companion was
+intensely anxious.
+
+Sidney Carew was beginning to realise that the events of the last three
+days had a graver import than they at first promised to conceal. The now
+celebrated article in the _Beacon_ opened his eyes, and he knew that the
+writer of it must have paid very dearly for his daring. It seemed
+extremely probable that the head and hands which had conceived and
+carried out this singular feat were both still for ever. Vellacott's own
+written tribute to the vast powers of the Jesuits, and their immovable
+habit of forcing a way through all obstacles to the end in view, was
+scarcely reassuring to his friends.
+
+Sidney knew and recognised the usual fertility of resource possessed by
+his friend; but against him were pitted men of greater gifts, of less
+scruple, and of infinitely superior training in the crooked ways of
+humanity. That he should have been so long without vouchsafing word or
+sign was almost proof positive that his absence was involuntary; and men
+capable of placing fire-arms into the hands of a maddened mob were not
+likely to hesitate in sacrificing a single life that chanced to stand in
+their path.
+
+As the young fellow rode along, immersed in meditation, he heard the
+sound of carriage-wheels, and, looking up, recognised his own grey horse
+and dog-cart. Mr. Bodery was driving, and driving hard. On seeing Sidney
+he pulled up, somewhat recklessly, in a manner which suggested that he
+had not always been a stout, middle-aged Londoner.
+
+"Been telegraphed for," he shouted, "by the people at the office.
+Government is taking it up. Just time to catch the train."
+
+And the editor of the _Beacon_ disappeared in a cloud of dust.
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne was thus left in full possession of the field.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+FOUL PLAY
+
+
+When Christian Vellacott passed out of the drawing-room window in answer
+to what he naturally supposed to be a signal-whistle from Hilda or
+Sidney, he turned down the narrow, winding pathway that led to the moat.
+The extreme darkness, contrasting suddenly with the warm light of the
+room he had just left, caused him to walk slowly with outstretched
+hands. Floating cobwebs broke across his face, and frequently he stopped
+to brush the clinging fibre away. The intense darkness was somewhat
+relieved when he reached the edge of the moat, and the clear sky was
+overhead instead of interlocked branches. He could just discern that
+Hilda was not at her usual seat upon the rustic bench farther towards
+the end of the moat, and he stopped short, with a sudden misgiving, at
+the spot where the path met, at right angles, the broader stone walk
+extending the full length of the water.
+
+He was on the point of whistling softly the familiar refrain, when there
+was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A rush, a sudden shock, and a
+pair of muscular hands were closed round his throat, dragging him
+backwards. But Christian stood like a rock. Quick as thought he seized
+the two wrists, which were small and flat, and wrenched them apart.
+Then, stepping back with one foot in order to obtain surer leverage, he
+lifted his assailant from the ground, swung him round, and literally let
+him fly into the moat--with a devout hope that it might be Signor Bruno.
+The man hurtled through the darkness, without a cry or sound, and fell
+face foremost into the water, five yards from the edge, throwing into
+the air a shower of spray.
+
+Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than
+their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of
+endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly
+developed. The exertion of lifting his assailant and swinging him away
+into the darkness was great, although the man's weight was nothing very
+formidable, and Christian staggered back a few paces without, however,
+actually losing his balance. At this moment two men sprang upon him from
+behind and dragged him to the ground. He felt at once that this was a
+very different matter. Either of these two could have overpowered him
+singly. Their thick arms encompassed him like the coils of a snake, and
+there was about their heavy woollen clothing a faint odour of salt
+water. He knew that they were sailors. Recognising that it was of no
+avail, he still fought on, as Englishmen do. One of the men had wound a
+large woollen scarf round his mouth, the other was slowly but very
+surely succeeding in pinioning his arms. Then a third assailant came,
+and Christian knew by the wet hand (for he used one arm only) that it
+was the smallest of the three, who had suffered for his temerity.
+
+"Quick, quick!" this man whispered in French. With his uninjured hand he
+twisted the scarf tighter and tighter until Christian gasped for breath.
+
+Still the Englishman struggled and writhed upon the ground, while the
+hard breathing of the two sailors testified that it was no mean
+resistance. Suddenly the one-armed man loosened the scarf, but before
+Christian could recover his breath a handkerchief was pressed over his
+lips, and a sweet, pungent odour filled his nostrils.
+
+"Three to one," he gasped, and quite suddenly his head fell forward,
+while his clutch relaxed.
+
+"He is a brave man," said the dripping leader of the attack, as he stood
+upright and touched his damaged shoulder gently and tentatively. "Now
+quick to the carriage with him. You have not managed this well, my
+friends, not at all well."
+
+The speaker raised his cold hand to his forehead, which was wet, less
+perhaps from past exertion than from the agony he was enduring.
+
+"But, monsieur," grumbled one of the sailors in humble self-defence, "he
+is made of steel!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pale light of a grey dawn was stealing slowly up into the riven sky,
+lighting up the clouds which were flying eastward on the shoulder of a
+boisterous wind. The heavy grey sea, heaving, surging, and hissing,
+threw itself upwards into broken spray, which flew to leeward at a sharp
+angle, blown from the summit of the wave like froth from an over-filled
+tankard. After a night of squally restlessness, accompanied by a driving
+rain that tasted brackish, things had settled down with the dawn into a
+steady, roaring gale of wind. In the growing light sea-gulls rose
+triumphantly with smooth breasts bravely facing the wind.
+
+In the midst of this a dripping vessel laboured sorely. The green water
+rushed from side to side over her slippery, filthy deck as she rolled,
+and carried with it a tangled mass of ropes, a wooden bucket, a capstan
+bar, and--ominous sign--a soaking, limp fur cap. The huge boom, reaching
+nearly the whole length of the little vessel, swung wildly from side to
+side as the yawl dipped her bulwarks to the receding wave. It was
+certain death for a man to attempt to stand upright upon the sopping
+deck, for the huge spar swung shoulder high. The steersman, crouching
+low by his strong tiller, was doing his best to avoid a clean sweep, but
+only a small jib and the mizzen were standing with straining clews and
+gleaming seams. Crouching beneath the weather bulwarks, with their feet
+wedged against the low combing of the hatch, three men were vainly
+endeavouring to secure the boom, and to disentangle the clogged ropes.
+Two were huge fellows with tawny, washed-out beards innocent of brush or
+comb, their faces were half hidden by rough sou'-westers, and they were
+enveloped from head to foot in oilskins from which the water ran in
+little rills. The third was Christian Vellacott, who looked very wet
+indeed. The water was dripping from his cuffs and running down his face.
+His black dress-clothes were clinging to him with a soppy hindrance,
+while the feet firmly planted against the combing of the hatch were
+encased in immaculate patent-leather shoes, and the salt water ran off
+silk socks. It would have been very funny if it were not that Fortune
+invariably mingles her strokes of humour most heedlessly with sadder
+things. Christian Vellacott was apparently unconscious of the humour of
+the situation. He was working patiently and steadily, as men must needs
+work when fighting Nature, and his half-forgotten sea-craft was already
+coming back. Beneath his steady hands something akin to order was slowly
+being achieved; he was coiling and disentangling the treacherous rope,
+of which the breaking had cast the boom adrift, laying low a good
+seaman.
+
+Farther forward upon the hatch lay the limp body of a very big man. His
+matted head was bare, and the dead, brown face, turned upward to its
+Maker, jerked from side to side as the vessel heaved. The stalwart legs
+were encased in greasy sea-boots, deeply wrinkled, and the coils of a
+huge scarf of faded purple lay upon his broad breast, where they had
+been dragged down by a hasty hand in order to see more clearly the still
+features.
+
+At the dead man's side knelt upon the deck a small, spare figure clad in
+black and wearing his left arm in a sling. With his right hand he held a
+crucifix to the blue lips that would never breathe a prayer to the
+Virgin again. The small mouth and refined features of the praying man
+were strangely out of keeping with his tempestuous surroundings.
+Unmindful, however, of wind and waves alike, he knelt and prayed
+audibly. Each lurch of the vessel threw him forward, so that, in order
+to save himself from falling, he was obliged to press heavily upon the
+dead man's throat and breast; but this he heeded not. His girlish blue
+eyes were half closed in an ecstasy of religious fervour, and the pale,
+narrow face wore a light that was not reflected from sea or sky. This
+was the man who had unhesitatingly attacked Vellacott, had dared to pit
+his small strength, more of nerve than of muscle, against the young
+Englishman's hardened sinews. Violence in itself was most abhorrent to
+him; it had no part in his nature; and consequently, by the strange
+tenets of Ignatius Loyola's disciples, he was condemned to a course of
+it. Any objectionable duty, such as this removal of Vellacott, was
+immediately assigned to him in the futile endeavour of subjecting the
+soul to the brain. A true Jesuit must have no nature of his own and no
+individuality. He is simply a machine, with likes and dislikes,
+conscience and soul subject to the will of his superior, whose mind is
+also under the same arbitrary control; and so on to the top. If at the
+head there were God, it would be well; but man is there, and consequently
+the whole society is a gigantic mistake. To be a sincere member of it, a
+man must be a half-witted fool, a religious fanatic, or a rogue for whom
+no duplicity is too scurrilous, even though it amount to blasphemy.
+
+Rene Drucquer, the man kneeling on the slimy deck, was as nearly a
+religious fanatic as his soft, sweet nature would allow. With greater
+bodily strength and attendant greater passions, he would have been a
+simple monomaniac. In him the passion for self-devotion was singularly
+strong, and contact with men had cooled it down into an unusually deep
+sense of duty.
+
+Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of
+self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more
+akin to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where
+the devil drags most people, and Rene Drucquer was not by any means the
+first man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly
+misled by a blind devotion to duty.
+
+When throwing himself upon Christian Vellacott, no thought of possible
+danger to his own person had restrained or caused him a moment's
+hesitation. His blind faith in the righteousness of his cause was,
+however, on the wane. This disciple of St. Ignatius might have lived a
+true and manly life three hundred years earlier when his master trod the
+earth, but the march of intellect had trodden down the "Constitutions"
+years before Rene Drucquer came to study them. An ignoramus and a zealot
+who lived nearly four centuries ago can be no guide or help to men of
+the present day, and this young priest was overshadowed by the saddest
+doubt that comes to men on earth--the doubt of his own Creed.
+
+While Christian Vellacott was assisting the sailors he glanced
+occasionally towards the kneeling priest, and on the narrow, intelligent
+face he read a truth that never was forgotten. He saw that Rene Drucquer
+was unconscious of his surroundings--unmindful of the fact that he was
+on board a disabled vessel at the mercy of the wild wind. His whole
+being was absorbed in prayer: this priest remembered only that the soul
+of the great, rough, disfigured man was winging its serene way to the
+land where no clouds are. Christian was not an impressionable
+man--journalism had killed all that--nor, it is to be feared, did he
+devote much thought to religion; but he recognised goodness when he met
+it. The young journalist's interest was aroused, and in that trifling
+incident lay the salvation of the priest. From that small beginning came
+the gleam of light that was to illuminate gloriously the darkness of a
+mistaken life.
+
+Chance had capriciously ruled that the hand that had dislocated the
+Abbe's arm should set it again, and the dead sailor lying on the sticky,
+tarred hatch-cover had helped. The "patron" of the boat, for he it was
+whose head had been smashed by the spar, had held the priest's
+trembling, swollen shoulder while Christian's steady hands gave the
+painful jerk required to slip the joint back into its socket. The great,
+coarse lips which had trembled a little, with a true Frenchman's
+sympathy for suffering, were now blue and drawn; the stout, tender hands
+were nerveless.
+
+The priest prayed on, while the men worked near at hand seeking to
+restore order, and to repair the damages made by sea and wind. They had
+got over their sullen, native shyness on finding that Christian could
+speak French like the Abbe and was almost as good a sailor as
+themselves. One offered him a rough blue jersey, while another placed a
+gold-embroidered Sunday waistcoat at his disposal, with a visible
+struggle between kindness of heart and economy. The first was accepted,
+but the waistcoat was given back with a kind laugh and an assurance that
+the jersey was sufficient.
+
+The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any
+ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abbe
+Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor,
+and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter,
+he rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute.
+The authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had
+sworn to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his
+Master.
+
+At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the
+mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
+
+Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
+
+"Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the
+dead to lie there in this wind and storm."
+
+"I am willing," answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the
+dead man lay.
+
+"Then, perhaps--Monsieur," began the Breton with some hesitation.
+
+"Yes," answered Christian encouragingly, "what is it?"
+
+"Perhaps Monsieur will speak to--to the Abbe. It is that we do not like
+to disturb him in prayer."
+
+The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
+
+"I will do so," he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and
+touched Rene Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the
+touch had been repeated.
+
+"Yes," he murmured; "yes. What do you want?"
+
+Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could
+not hear them.
+
+"Is it not better to take him below?" he shouted.
+
+Then for the first time did the priest appear to remember that this was
+not one of the sailors.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, rising from his knees. "You are right; it
+is better. But I am afraid the men will not assist me. They are afraid
+of touching the dead when they are afloat."
+
+"I will help you," said Christian simply, "and that man also, I think,
+because he proposed it."
+
+With a motion of the head he indicated Hoel Grall, upon whom the command
+of the little vessel had now devolved. The man was better educated than
+his companions, and spoke French fluently, but in the Breton character
+superstition is so deeply rooted that generations of education will
+scarcely eradicate it.
+
+The priest looked into the Englishman's face with a gentle wonder in his
+eyes, which were shadowy with the fervour of his recent devotions. The
+two men were crouching low upon the deck, grasping the black rail with
+their left hands; the water washed backwards and forwards around their
+feet.
+
+It was the first time they had seen each other face to face in open
+daylight, and their eyes met quietly and searchingly as they swayed from
+side to side with the heavy lurching of the ship. The Englishman spoke
+first.
+
+"You must leave it to us," he said calmly. "You could do nothing in this
+heavy sea with your one arm!"
+
+The gentle blue eyes were again filled with wonder, and presently the
+priest's intellectual face relaxed into a shadowy smile, which did not
+affect his thin red lips.
+
+"You are very good," he murmured simply.
+
+Christian did not hear this remark. He had turned away to call Grall
+towards him, and was about to move towards the body lying on the hatch,
+when the priest called him back.
+
+"Monsieur," he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me," continued Rene Drucquer quickly, as if in doubt, "are you
+Christian Vellacott?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+The priest looked relieved, and at the same time he appeared to be
+making an effort to restrain himself, as if he had been betrayed into a
+greater show of feeling than was desirable. When he at length spoke in
+reply to the Englishman's obvious desire for some explanation of the
+strange question, his voice was singularly cold, and modulated in such a
+manner as to deprive it of any expression, while his eyes were fixed on
+the deck.
+
+"You are not such as I expected," he said.
+
+Christian looked down at him with straightforward keenness, and he saw
+the priest's eyelids move uneasily beneath his gaze. Mixing with many
+men as he had done, he had acquired a certain mental sureness of touch,
+like that of an artist with his brush when he has handled many subjects
+and many effects. He divined that Rene Drucquer had been led to expect a
+violent, head strong man, and he could not restrain a smile as he turned
+away. Before going, however, he said:
+
+"At present it is a matter of saving the ship, and our lives. My own
+affairs can wait, but when this gale is over you may rest assured they
+shall have my attention."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+WINGED
+
+
+Beyond this one allusion to their respective positions, Christian was
+silent regarding his captivity. After the gale subsided the weather took
+a turn for the better, and clear skies by day and night rendered
+navigation an easy matter.
+
+With characteristic daring the young Englishman had decided to offer no
+resistance and to seize no opportunities of escape until the termination
+of the voyage. The scheme half-formed within his mind was to see the
+voyage through, and effect his escape soon after landing in France. It
+was not without a certain adventurous fascination, and in the meantime
+there was much to interest him in his surroundings. If this young Abbe
+was a typical member of the Society of Jesus, he was worth studying. If
+this simplicity was an acquired cloak to deeper thought, it was worth
+penetrating, and if the man's entire individuality had been submerged in
+the mysterious system followed in the College of Jesuits, it was no
+waste of time to seek for the real man beneath the cultivated suavity
+that hid all feeling.
+
+The more the two young men saw of each other the closer grew their
+intimacy, and with growing intimacy the domination of the stronger
+individuality was more marked in its influence.
+
+To the frail and nervous priest this young Englishman was a new
+experience; his vitality and calm, straightforward manner of speech were
+such as the Abbe had never met with before. Such men and better men
+there were and are in the Society of Jesus, otherwise the power of the
+great Order would not be what it is; but Rene Drucquer had never come in
+contact with them. According to the wonderful code of laws laid down by
+its great founder (who, in other circumstances, might have prepared the
+world for the coming of such a man as Napoleon the First), the education
+of the young is entrusted to such brethren as are of slower parts; and
+from these honest, but by no means intelligent, men the young Abbe had
+learnt his views upon mankind in general. The creed they taught without
+understanding it themselves was that no man must give way to natural
+impulses; that he must restrain and quell and quench himself into a
+machine, without individuality or impulse, without likes or dislikes;
+that he must persistently perform such duties as are abhorrent to him,
+eat such food as nauseates him, and submit to the dictates of such men
+as hate him. And these, forsooth, are the teachings of one who, in his
+zealous shortsightedness, claims to have received his inspiration direct
+from the lips of the Great Teacher.
+
+Rene Drucquer found himself in the intimate society of a man who said
+what he thought, acted as he conceived best, and held himself
+responsible, for word or deed, to none on earth. It was his first
+mission after a long and rigorous training. This was the first enemy of
+the Holy Church against whom he had been sent to fight, armed with the
+immeasurable power of the greatest brotherhood the world has ever known,
+protected by the shadow of its blessing; and there was creeping into the
+young priest's heart a vague and terrible suspicion that there might be
+two sides to the question. All the careful years of training, all the
+invisible meshes of the vast net that had been gathering its folds round
+him since he had first donned the dress of a Probationer of the College
+of Jesuits, were powerless to restrain the flight of a pure and
+guileless heart to the height of truth. Despite the countless one-sided
+and ingenious arguments instilled into his eager young mind in guise of
+mental armour against the dangers of the world, Rene Drucquer found
+himself, at the very first contact with the world, unconvinced that he
+was fighting upon the righteous side.
+
+Brest had been left behind in a shimmering blue haze. Ahead lay the grim
+Pointe de Raz, with its short, thick-set lighthouse facing the vast
+Atlantic. Out to sea, in the fading glory of sunset, lay the long, low
+Ile-de-Sein, while here and there black rocks peeped above the water.
+The man holding the tiller was a sardine fisher, to whom every rock,
+every ripple, of these troubled waters was familiar. Fearlessly he
+guided the yawl close round by the high cliff--the westernmost point of
+Europe--but with the sunset the wind had dropped and the sails hung
+loosely, while the broad bows glided onwards with no sound of parted
+water.
+
+The long Atlantic roll was swinging lazily in, and the yawl rose to it
+sleepily, with a long, slow movement. The distant roar of the surf upon
+the Finisterre coast rose in the peaceful atmosphere like a lullaby. The
+holy calm of sunset, the hush of lowering night, and the presence of the
+only man who had ever drawn him with the strange, unaccountable bond
+that we call sympathy, moved the heart of the young priest as it had
+never been moved before by anything but religious fervour.
+
+For the first time he spoke of himself. The solitary heart suddenly
+broke through the restraining influence of a mistaken education, and
+unfolded its sad story of a misread existence. Through no fault of his
+own, by no relaxation of supervising care on the part of his teachers,
+the Jesuit had run headlong into the very danger which his Superior had
+endeavoured to avoid. He had formed a friendship. Fortunately the friend
+was a _man_, otherwise Rene Drucquer were lost indeed.
+
+"I should think," he said musingly, "that no two lives have ever been so
+widely separated as yours and mine, and yet our paths have met!"
+
+Vellacott took the cigarette from his lips. It was made of a vile
+tobacco, called "Petit Caporal," but there was nothing better to be had,
+and he was in the habit of making the best of everything. Therefore he
+blew into the air a spiral column of thin blue smoke with a certain
+sense of enjoyment before replying. He also was looking across the
+glassy expanse of water, but his gaze was steady and thoughtful, while
+his companion's eyes were dreamy and almost vacant. The light shone full
+upon his face, and a physician--or a mother--would have noticed,
+perhaps, that there was beneath his eyes a dull shadow, while his lips
+were dry and somewhat drawn.
+
+"Yes," he said at length, with grave sympathy, "we have drifted together
+like two logs in a torrent."
+
+The young priest changed his position, drawing in one leg and clasping
+his hands round his knee. The movement caused his long black garment to
+fall aside, displaying the dark purple stockings and rough shoes. The
+hands clasped round his knee were long and white, with peculiarly flat
+wrists.
+
+"One log," he said vaguely, "was bound for a certain goal, the other was
+drifting."
+
+Vellacott turned slowly and glanced at his companion's face. The smoke
+from the bad cigarette drifted past their heads to windward. He was not
+sure whether the priest was speaking from a professional point of view,
+with reference to heresy and the unknown goal to which all heretics are
+drifting, or not. Had Rene Drucquer been a good Jesuit, he would have
+seen his opportunity of saying a word in season. But this estimable
+desire found no place in his heart just then.
+
+"Your life," he continued in a monotone, "is already mapped out--like
+the voyage of a ship traced across a chart. Is it not so? I have
+imagined it like that."
+
+Vellacott continued to smoke for some moments in silence. He sat with
+his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail,
+and his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in
+his pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his
+motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for
+he spoke at once with a smile on his face.
+
+"I think it is best," he said, "not to think too much about it. From
+what experience I have had, I have come to the humiliating conclusion
+that men have very little to do with the formation of their own lives. A
+ship-captain may sit down and mark his course across the chart with the
+greatest accuracy, the most profound knowledge of wind and current, and
+the keenest foresight; but that will have very little effect upon the
+actual voyage."
+
+"But," argued the priest in a low voice, "is it not better to have an
+end in view--to have a certain aim, and a method, more or less formed,
+of attaining it?"
+
+"Most men have that," answered Christian, "but do not know that they
+have it!"
+
+"_You_ have?"
+
+Christian smoked meditatively. A month ago he would have said "Yes"
+without a moment's hesitation.
+
+"And you know it, I think," added the priest slowly. He was perfectly
+innocent of any desire to extract details of his companion's life from
+unwilling lips, and Christian knew it. He was convinced that, whatever
+part Rene Drucquer had attempted to play in the past, he was sincere at
+that moment, and he divined that the young Jesuit was weakly giving way
+to a sudden desire to speak to some fellow-being of his own life--to lay
+aside the strict reserve demanded by the tenets of the Society to which
+he was irrevocably bound. In his superficial way, Christian Vellacott
+had studied men as well as letters, and he was not ignorant of the
+influence exercised over the human mind by such trifling circumstances
+as moonshine upon placid water, distant music, the solemn hush of
+eventide, or the subtle odour of a beloved flower. If Rene Drucquer was
+on the point of committing a great mistake, he at least would not urge
+him on towards it, so he smoked in silence, looking practical and
+unsympathetic.
+
+The priest laughed a little short, deprecating laugh, in which there was
+no shadow of mirth.
+
+"I have not," he said, rubbing his slim hands together, palm to palm,
+slowly, "and--I know it."
+
+"It will come," suggested the Englishman, after a pause.
+
+The priest shook his head with a little smile, which was infinitely
+sadder than tears. His cold silence was worse than an outburst of grief;
+it was like the keen frost that comes before snow, harder to bear than
+the snow itself. Presently he moved slightly towards his companion so
+that their arms were touching, and in his soft modulated voice, trained
+to conceal emotion, he told his story.
+
+"My friend," he said, intertwining his fingers, which were very
+restless, "no man can be the worse for hearing the story of another
+man's life. Before you judge of me, listen to what my life has been. I
+have never known a friend or relation. I have never had a boy companion.
+Since the age of thirteen, when I was placed under the care of the holy
+fathers, I have never spoken to a woman. I have been taught that life
+was given us to be spent in prayer; to study, to train ourselves, and to
+follow in the footsteps of the blessed Saint Ignatius. But how are we
+who have only lived half a life, to imitate him, whose youth and
+middle-age were passed in one of the most vicious courts of Europe
+before he thought of turning to holy things? How are we, who are buried
+in an atmosphere of mystic religion, to cope with sin of which we know
+nothing, and when we are profoundly ignorant of its evil results? These
+things I know now, but I did not suspect them when I was in the college.
+There all manliness, and all sense of manly honour, were suppressed and
+insidiously forbidden. We were taught to be spies upon each other, to
+cringe servilely to our superiors, and to deal treacherously with such
+as were beneath us. Hypocrisy--innate, unfathomable hypocrisy--was
+instilled into our minds so cunningly that we did not recognise it.
+Every movement of the head or hands, every glance of the eyes, and every
+word from the lips was to be the outcome--not of our own hearts--but of
+a law laid down by the General himself. It simply comes to this: we are
+not men at all, but machines carefully planned and fitted together, so
+as to render sin almost an impossibility. When tempted to sin we are
+held back, not by the fear of God, but by the thought that discovery is
+almost certain, and that the wrath of our Superior is withheld by no
+scruple of human kindness.... But remember, I knew nothing of this
+before I took my vows. To me it was a glorious career. I became an
+enthusiast. At last the time came when I was eligible; I offered myself
+to the Society, and was accepted. Then followed a period of hard work; I
+learned Spanish and Italian, giving myself body and soul to the work.
+Even the spies set to watch me day and night, waking and sleeping,
+feeding and fasting, could but confess that I was sincere. One day the
+Provincial sent for me--my mission had come. I was at last to go forth
+into the world to do the work of my Master. Trembling with eagerness, I
+went to his room; the Provincial was a young man with a beautiful face,
+but it was like the face of the dead. There was no colour, no life, no
+soul, no heart in it. He spoke in a low, measured voice that had neither
+pity nor love.
+
+"When that door closed behind me an hour later the scales had fallen
+from my eyes. I began to suspect that this great edifice, built not of
+stones but of men's hearts, was nothing less than an unrighteous
+mockery. With subtle, double-meaning words, the man whom I had been
+taught to revere as the authorised representative of Our Lord, unfolded
+to me my duties in the future. The work of God, he called it; and to do
+this work he placed in my hands the tools of the devil. What I suspected
+then, I know now."
+
+The young Englishman sat and listened with increasing interest. His
+cigarette had gone out long before.
+
+"And," he said presently, in his quiet, reassuring voice, which seemed
+to infer that no difficulty in life was quite insurmountable--"And, if
+you did not know it then, how have you learnt it now?"
+
+"From you, my friend," replied the priest earnestly, "from you and from
+these rough sailors. They, at least, are men. But you have taught me
+this."
+
+Christian Vellacott made no answer. He knew that what his companion said
+was true. Unconsciously, and with no desire to do so, he had opened this
+young zealot's eyes to what a man's life may be. The tale was infinitely
+sad, but with characteristic promptitude the journalist was already
+seeking a remedy without stopping to think over the pathos of this
+mistaken career.
+
+Presently Rene Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again,
+and he continued his story.
+
+"He told me," he said, "that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman
+Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and
+queens' boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is
+as firm as ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent. It lies like
+a huge mill, perfect but idle, waiting for the grist that will never
+come to be crushed between its ruthless wheels. He told me that the sway
+over kings and princes has lapsed with the growth of education, but that
+we hold still within our hands a lever of greater power, though the
+danger of wielding it is proportionately greater to those who would use
+it. This power is the People. Before us lies a course infinitely more
+perilous than the sinuous paths trodden by the first followers of St.
+Ignatius as they advanced towards power. It lies on the troubled waters;
+it leads over the restless, mobile heads of the people."
+
+Again the priest ceased speaking. There was a strange thrill of
+foreboding in his voice, which, however, had never been raised above a
+monotone. The two men sat side by side, as still as the dead. They gazed
+vacantly into the golden gates of the west, and each in his own way
+thought over these things. Assuredly the Angel of Silence hung over that
+little vessel then, for no sound from earth or sea or sky came to wake
+those two thinkers from their reverie.
+
+At last the Englishman's full, steady tones broke the hush.
+
+"This," he said, "has not been learnt in two days. You must have known
+it before. If you knew it, why are you what you are? You never have been
+a real Jesuit, and you never will be."
+
+"I swore to the Mother of God--I am bound...."
+
+"By an oath forced upon you!"
+
+"No! By an oath I myself begged to take!"
+
+This was the bitterest drop in the priest's cup. Everything had been
+done of his own free will--at his own desire. During eleven years a
+network of perfidy had been cunningly woven around him, mesh after mesh,
+day after day. As he grew older, so grew in strength the warp of the
+net. Thus, in the fulness of time, everything culminated to the one
+great end in view. Nothing was demanded (for that is an essential rule),
+everything must be offered freely, to be met by an apparently hesitating
+acceptance. Constant dropping wears the hardest stone in time.
+
+"But," said Vellacott, "you can surely represent to your Provincial that
+you are not fitted for the work put before you."
+
+"My friend," interrupted the priest, "we can represent nothing. We are
+supposed to have no natural inclinations. All work should be welcome,
+none too difficult, no task irksome."
+
+"You can volunteer for certain services," said Vellacott.
+
+The priest shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"What services?" he asked.
+
+The Englishman looked at him for some seconds in the fading light. In
+his quick way he had already found a remedy, and he was wondering
+whether he should propose it or hold his peace. He was not afraid of
+incurring responsibility. The young Jesuit had appealed to him, and
+there was a way out of the difficulty. Christian felt that things could
+not be made worse than they were. In a moment his mind was made up.
+
+"As you know," he said, "the Society has few friends and a multitude of
+enemies. I am afraid I am an enemy; but there is one redeeming point in
+the Jesuit record which we are all bound to recognise, and I recognise
+it unhesitatingly. You have done more to convert the heathen than the
+rest of the Christian Church put together. Whatever the motive has been,
+whatever the results have proved to be, the missionary work is
+unrivalled. Why do you not offer yourself for that?"
+
+As he asked the question Christian glanced at his companion's face. He
+saw the sad eyes light up suddenly with a glow that was not of this dull
+earth at all; he saw the thin, pure face suddenly acquire a great and
+wondrous peace. The young priest rose to his feet, and, crossing the
+deck, he stood holding with one hand to the tarred rigging, his back
+turned towards the Englishman, looking over the still waters.
+
+Presently he returned, and laying his thin hand upon Christian's
+shoulder, he said, "My friend, you have saved me. In the first shock of
+my disillusion I never thought of this. I think--I think there is work
+for me yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+
+
+With the morning tide, the _Deux Freres_ entered Audierne harbour.
+The rough sailors crossed themselves as they looked towards the old
+wooden cross upon the headland, facing the great Atlantic. They thought
+of the dead "patron" in the little cabin below, and the joyous young
+wife, whose snowy head-dress they could almost distinguish upon the pier
+among the waiters there.
+
+Both Christian Vellacott and the Abbe were on deck. They had been there
+the whole night. They had lain motionless side by side upon the old
+sail. Day vanished, night stole on, and day came again without either
+having closed his eyes or opened his lips.
+
+They now stood near the steersman, and looked upon the land with an
+interest which only comes after heavy weather at sea. To the Englishman
+this little fishing-port was unknown, and he did not care to ask. The
+vessel was now dropping up the river, with anchor swinging, and the
+women on the pier were walking inland slowly, keeping pace and waving a
+greeting from time to time in answer to a husband's shout.
+
+"That is she, Monsieur L'Abbe," said Hoel Grall, with a peculiar twitch
+of his coarse mouth, as if from pain. "That is she with the little
+child!"
+
+Rene Drucquer bowed his head, saying nothing. The _Deux Freres_
+slowly edged alongside the old quay in her usual berth above the sardine
+boats. A board was thrown across from the rail to the quay, and the
+priest stepped ashore alone. He went towards the smiling young wife
+without any hesitation; she stood there surrounded by the wives of the
+sailors on board the _Deux Freres_, with her snowy coiffe and
+spotless apron, holding her golden-haired child by the hand. All the
+women curtsied as the priest approached, for in these western provinces
+the Church is still respected.
+
+"My daughter," said the Abbe, "I have bad news for you."
+
+She smiled still, misunderstanding his calmness.
+
+"Ah, mon pere," she said, "it is the season of the great winds now. What
+a long voyage it has been! And you say it is a bad one. My husband is no
+doubt in despair, but another voyage is sure to be better; is it not so?
+I have not seen Loic upon the deck, but then my sight is not good. I am
+not from Audierne, mon pere, but from inland where we cannot see so
+far."
+
+The priest changed colour; no smile came into his face in response to
+hers. He stepped nearer, and placed his hand upon her comely arm.
+
+"It has been a very bad voyage for your poor husband," he said. "The
+Holy Virgin give you comfort."
+
+Slowly the colour vanished from the woman's round checks. Her soft,
+short-sighted eyes filled with a terrible, hopeless dismay as she stared
+at the young priest's bowed head. The women round now began to
+understand, and they crossed themselves with a very human prayer of
+thankfulness that their husbands and brothers had been spared.
+
+"Loic is dead?" she said, in a rasping voice. For some moments she stood
+motionless, then, in obedience to some strange and unaccountable
+instinct, she began turning up the sleeves of her rough brown dress, as
+if she were going to begin some kind of manual work.
+
+"The Holy Virgin comfort you, my daughter; and you, my little one," said
+the priest, as he stooped to lay his hand upon the golden head of the
+child.
+
+"Loic is dead! Loic is dead!" spread from mouth to mouth.
+
+"That comes from having ought to do with the priests," muttered the
+customs officer, beneath his heavy moustache. He was an old soldier, who
+read the newspapers, and spoke in a loud voice on Sunday evenings in the
+Cafe de l'Ouest.
+
+The Abbe heard the remark, and looked at the man, but said nothing. He
+remembered that no Jesuit must defend himself.
+
+The girl-widow stepped on board the untidy vessel in a mechanical,
+dreamy way. She dragged the little trotting child almost roughly after
+her. Christian Vellacott stood at the low cabin door. He was in the
+dress of a Probationer of the Society of Jesus, which he had assumed at
+the request, hesitatingly made, of Rene Drucquer, and for the very
+practical reason that he had nothing else to wear except a torn
+dress-coat and Hoel Grall's Sunday garments.
+
+"Bless me, mon pere," lisped the little one, stopping in front of him.
+
+"Much good will a blessing of mine do you, little one," he muttered in
+English. Nevertheless, he lifted the child up and kissed her rosy cheek.
+He kept her by his side, letting the mother go to her dead husband
+alone.
+
+When the woman came from the cabin half-an-hour later, hard-faced, and
+with dry, stony eyes, she found the child sitting on Christian's knee,
+prattling away in broken French. Tears came to her aching eyes at the
+sight of the happy, fatherless child; the hard Breton heart was touched
+at last.
+
+The Abbe's instructions were to keep his prisoner confined under lock
+and key in the cabin until nightfall, when he was to be removed inland
+in a carriage under the surveillance of two lay-brethren. Christian,
+however, never for a moment doubted his ability to escape when he wished
+to do so, and acting upon this conviction he volunteered a promise not
+to attempt evasion. Dressed as he was, in the garments of a probationer,
+there was no necessity of awaiting nightfall, as there was nothing
+unusual about him to attract attention. Accordingly the departure from
+the _Deux Freres_ was fixed for midday. In the meantime the young
+Englishman found himself the object of unremitting attention on the part
+of two smooth-faced individuals who looked like domestic servants. These
+two men had come on board at the same moment that the Abbe stepped
+ashore, and Christian noticed that no word of greeting or recognition
+passed between them and Rene Drucquer. This was to him a further proof
+of the minuteness of organisation which has characterised the Order
+since Ignatius Loyola wrote down his wonderful "Constitutions," in which
+no trifle was too small to be unworthy of attention, no petty dramatic
+effect devoid of significance. Each man appeared to have received his
+instructions separately, and with no regard to those of his companion.
+
+In the meantime, however, the journalist had not been wasting his time.
+Although he still looked upon the whole affair as a very good farce, he
+had not forgotten the fact that his absence must necessarily have been
+causing endless anxiety in England. During the long night of wakefulness
+he had turned over in his mind every possible event at St. Mary Western
+since his sudden disappearance. Again and again he found himself
+wondering how they would all take it, and his conclusions were
+remarkably near to the truth. He guessed that Mr. Bodery would, sooner
+or later, be called in to give his opinion, and he sincerely hoped that
+the course taken would be the waiting tactics which had actually been
+proposed by the editor of the _Beacon_.
+
+In this hope he determined to communicate with Sidney Carew, and having
+possessed himself of a blank Customs Declaration Form, he proceeded to
+write a letter upon the reverse side of it. In this he told his friend
+to have no anxiety, and, above all, to institute no manner of search,
+because he would return to England as soon as his investigations were
+complete. The letter was written in guarded language, because Christian
+had arrived at the conclusion that the only means he had of despatching
+it was through the hands of Rene Drucquer. The crew of the _Deux
+Freres_ were not now allowed to speak with him. He possessed no
+money, and it would have been folly to attempt posting an unstamped
+letter addressed to England in a little place like Audierne.
+
+Accordingly, as they were preparing to leave the vessel (the care of
+poor Loic having been handed over to the village cure), Christian boldly
+tendered his request.
+
+"No, my friend, I cannot do it," replied the Abbe promptly.
+
+"Read it yourself," urged Christian. "No harm can possibly come of it.
+My friend will do exactly as I tell him. In fact, it will be to your
+benefit that it should go."
+
+Still the Jesuit shook his head. Suddenly, however, in the midst of an
+argument on the part of the Englishman, he gave in and took the letter.
+
+"Give it to me," he said; "I will risk it."
+
+Christian watched him place the letter within the breast of his
+"soutane," unread. The two lay-brethren were noting every movement.
+
+Presently the priest removed his broad-brimmed hat and passed through
+the little doorway into the dimly lighted cabin where the dead sailor
+lay. He left the door ajar. After glancing at the dead man's still face
+he fell upon his knees by the side of the low bunk, and remained with
+bowed head for some moments. At last he rose to his feet and took the
+Englishman's letter from his breast. The envelope was unclosed, and with
+smooth, deliberate touch he opened the letter and read it by the light
+of the candle at the dead man's head, of which the rays were to
+illuminate the wandering soul upon its tortuous way. The priest read
+each word slowly and carefully, for his knowledge of English was
+limited. Then he stood for some seconds motionless, with arms hanging
+straight, staring at the flame of the candle with weary, wondering eyes.
+At last he raised his hand and held the flimsy paper in the flame of the
+candle till it was all burnt away. The charred remains fluttered to the
+ground, and one wavering flake of carbonised paper sank gently upon the
+dead man's throat, laid bare by the hand of his frenzied wife.
+
+"He said that I was not a Jesuit," murmured the priest, as he burnt the
+envelope, and across his pale face there flitted an unearthly smile.
+
+Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when
+Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the
+rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and
+then turned to leave the ship.
+
+The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed
+that the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne
+were on the box. Rene Drucquer and himself were invited to enter the
+roomy vehicle, and by the way in which the door shut he divined that it
+was locked by a spring.
+
+At the village post-office the carriage stopped, and, one of the
+servants having opened the door, the priest descended and passed into
+the little bureau. He said nothing about the letter addressed to Sidney
+Carew, but Christian took for granted that it would be posted. Instead
+of this, however, the priest wrote a telegram announcing the arrival of
+the _Deux Freres_, which he addressed to "Morel et Fils, Merchants,
+Quimper."
+
+"Hoel Grall asked me to despatch this," he said quietly, as he handed
+the paper to the old postmaster.
+
+After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus
+they travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two
+strangely contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances
+of which the links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott
+did not appear to chafe against his confinement. He took absolutely no
+notice of the two men whose duty it was to watch his every movement. The
+spirit of adventure, which is not quite educated out of us Englishmen
+yet, was very strong in him, and the rapid movement through an unknown
+land to an unknown goal was not without its healthy fascination. He lay
+back in the comfortable carriage and sleepily watched the flying
+landscape. Withal he noticed by the position of the sun the direction in
+which he was being taken, and despite many turns and twists he kept his
+bearings fairly well. The carriage had left the high road soon after
+crossing the bridge above Audierne, and was now going somewhat heavily
+over inferior thoroughfares.
+
+The sun had set before Vellacott awoke to find that they were still
+lumbering on. He had, of course, lost all bearing now, but he soon found
+that they had been journeying eastward since leaving the coast.
+
+A halt was made for refreshment at a small hillside village which
+appeared to be mainly inhabited by women, for the men were all sailors.
+The accommodation was of the poorest, but bread was procurable, and
+eggs, meat being an unknown luxury in the community.
+
+In the lowering light they journeyed on again, sometimes on the broad
+post-road, sometimes through cool and sombre forests. Many times when
+Christian spoke kindly, or performed some little act of consideration,
+the poor Abbe was on the point of disclosing his own treason. Before his
+eyes was the vision of that little cabin. He saw again the dancing flame
+of the paper in his hand, throwing its moving light upon the marble
+features of that silent witness as the charred fragments fluttered past
+the still face to the ground. But as the stone is worn by the dropping
+water, so at last is man's better nature overcome by persistent
+undermining when the work is carried out by men chosen as possessing "a
+mind self-possessed and tranquil, delicate in its perceptions, sure in
+its intuitions, and capable of a wide comprehension of various
+subjects." What youthful nature could be strong enough to resist the
+cunning pressure of influences wielded thus? So Rene Drucquer carried
+the secret in his heart until circumstances rendered it unimportant.
+
+Man is, after all, only fallible, and those to whom is given the
+privilege of accepting or refusing candidates for admission to the great
+Society of Jesus had made a fatal error in taking Rene Drucquer. Never
+was a man more unfitted to do his duty in that station of life in which
+he was placed. His religious enthusiasm stopped short of fanaticism; his
+pliability would not bend so low as duplicity. All this the young
+journalist learnt as he penetrated further into the sensitive depths of
+his companion's gentle temperament. The priest was of those men to whom
+love and brotherly affection are as necessary as the air they breathe.
+His wavering instincts were capable of being hardened into convictions;
+his natural gifts (and they were many) could be raised into talents; his
+life, in fact, could have been made a success by one influence--the love
+of a woman--the one influence that was forbidden: the single human
+acquirement that must for ever be beyond the priest's reach. This
+Christian Vellacott felt in a vague, uncertain way. He did not know very
+much about love and its influence upon a man's character, these
+questions never having come under his journalistic field of inquiry; but
+he had lately begun to wonder whether man's life was given to him to be
+influenced by no other thoughts than those in his own brain--whether
+there is not in our existence a completing area in the development of
+character.
+
+Looking at the matter from his own personal point of view--from whence
+even the best of us look upon most things--he was of the opinion that
+love stands in the path of the majority of men. This had been his view
+of the matter for many years; probably it was the reflection of his
+father's cynically outspoken opinion, and a well-grown idea is hard to
+uproot.
+
+Brought up, as he had been, by a pleasure-seeking and somewhat cynical
+man, and passing from his care into the busy and practical journalistic
+world, it was only natural that he should have acquired a certain
+hardness of judgment which, though useful in the world, is not an
+amiable quality. He now felt the presence of a dawning charity towards
+the actions of his fellow-men. A month earlier he would have despised
+Rene Drucquer as a weak and incapable man; now there was in his heart
+only pity for the young priest.
+
+Soon after darkness had settled over the country the carriage descended
+into a deep and narrow valley through which ran a rapid river of no
+great breadth. Here the driver stopped, and the two travellers descended
+from the vehicle. The priest exchanged a few words in a low voice with
+one of the servants who had leapt down from the box, and then turning to
+Vellacott he said in a curt manner--
+
+"Follow me, please."
+
+The Englishman obeyed, and leaving the road they turned along a broad
+pathway running at the side of the water. Christian noticed that they
+were going upstream. Presently they reached a cottage, and a woman came
+from the open doorway at their approach. Without any greeting or word of
+welcome she led the way down some wooden steps to the ferry-boat. As she
+rowed them across, the journalist took note of everything in his quick,
+keen way. The depth of the water, rapidity of current, and even the fact
+that the boat woman was not paid for her services.
+
+"Are we near our destination?" he asked in English when he saw this.
+
+"We have five minutes more," replied the priest in the same language.
+
+On landing, they followed another small path for some distance,
+down-stream. It was a quiet moss-grown path, with poplar trees on either
+side, and appeared to be little used. Suddenly the young priest stopped.
+There was the trunk of an elm tree lying on the inside of the path,
+evidently cut for the purpose of making a rough seat.
+
+"Let us sit here a few minutes," said Rene.
+
+Christian obeyed. He sat forward and stretched his long legs out.
+
+"I am aching all over," he said impatiently; "I wonder what it means!"
+
+The priest ignored the remark entirely.
+
+"My friend," he said presently, "a few minutes more and my care of you
+ceases. This journey will be over. For me it has been very eventful. In
+these few days I have learnt more than I did during all the long years
+of my education, and what I have learnt will never be forgotten. Without
+breathing one word of religion you have taught me to respect yours;
+without uttering a single complaint you have made me think with horror
+and shame of the part I have played in this affair. I dare ... scarcely
+hope that one day you will forgive me!"
+
+Christian raised his hand slowly to his forehead. The gleam of the
+sleek, smooth water flowing past his feet made him giddy. He wondered
+vaguely if the strange, dull feeling that was creeping over his senses
+was the result of extreme fatigue.
+
+"You speak as if we were never going to meet again," he said dreamily.
+
+The priest did not answer for some moments. His slim hands were tightly
+clasped upon his knees.
+
+"It is probable," he said at length, "that such will be the case. If our
+friendship is discovered it is certain!"
+
+"Then our friendship must not be discovered," said the practical
+Englishman.
+
+"But, my friend, that would be deceit--duplicity!"
+
+"A little duplicity, more or less, cannot matter much," replied
+Christian, in a harder voice.
+
+The priest looked up sharply, half fearing that his own treachery in the
+matter of the letter was suspected. But his companion remained silent,
+and the darkness prevented the expression of his face from being seen.
+
+"And," continued the Englishman, after a long pause, "I am to be left
+here?"
+
+There was a peculiar ring of weary indifference in his tone, as if it
+mattered little where he was left. The priest noticed it and remembered
+it later.
+
+"I know nothing, my friend. I have but to obey my orders."
+
+"And close your mind against thought?"
+
+"I cannot prevent the thoughts from coming into my mind," replied the
+priest gently, "but I can keep them prisoners when they have entered."
+
+He rose suddenly, and led the way along the river bank. Had Christian's
+manner been more encouraging he would have told him then and there about
+the letter.
+
+As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose
+from behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one
+of the lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to
+Rene Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after
+quitting the carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and
+unsuspected. He came, however, too late. Unconsciously, Christian had
+saved his companion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+GREEK AND GREEK
+
+
+When they had walked about a hundred yards farther on, the footpath was
+brought to a sudden termination by a house built across it to the
+water's edge. In this lay the explanation of its scanty use and
+luxuriant growth of moss.
+
+It was not a dark night, and without difficulty the priest found the
+handle of a bell, of which, however, no sound reached their ears. The
+door, cut deep in the stone, was opened after a short delay by a lay
+brother who showed no signs of rigid fasting. Again Christian noticed
+that no greeting was exchanged, no word of explanation offered or
+expected. The lay brother led the way along a dimly lighted corridor, in
+which there were doors upon each side at regular intervals. There was a
+chill and stony feeling in the atmosphere.
+
+At the end of the corridor a gleam of light shone through a half-open
+door upon the bare stone floor. Into this cell Christian was shown.
+Without even noticing whether the priest followed him or not, he entered
+the tiny room and threw himself wearily upon the bed. Although it was an
+intensely hot night he shivered a little, and as he lay he clasped his
+head with either hand. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and the colour
+had entirely left his cheeks, though his lips were red and moist. He
+took no notice of his surroundings, which, though simple and somewhat
+bare, were not devoid of comfort.
+
+In the meantime, Rene Drucquer had followed the door-keeper up a broad
+flight of stairs to a second corridor which was identical with that
+below, except that a room took the place of this small entrance-lobby
+and broad door. Thus the windows of this room were immediately above the
+river, which rendered them entirely free from overlookers, as the land
+on the opposite side was low and devoid of trees.
+
+The lay brother stopped in front of the door of this apartment, and
+allowed the young priest to pass him and knock at the door with his own
+hands. The response from within was uttered in such a low tone that if
+he had not been listening most attentively Rene would not have heard it.
+He opened the door, which creaked a little on its hinges, and passed
+into the room alone.
+
+In front of him a man dressed in a black soutane was seated at a table
+placed before the window. The only lamp in the room, which was long and
+narrow, stood on the table before him, so that the light of it was
+reflected from his sleek black head disfigured by a tiny tonsure. As
+Rene Drucquer advanced up the room, the occupant raised his head
+slightly, but made no attempt to turn round. With a quick, unobtrusive
+movement of his large white hand he moved the papers on the table before
+him, so that no written matter remained exposed to view. Upon the table
+were several books, and on the right-hand side of the plain inkstand
+stood a beautifully carved stone crucifix, while upon the left there was
+a small mirror no larger than a carte-de-visite. This was placed at a
+slight angle upon a tiny wire easel, and by raising his eyes any person
+seated at the table could at once see what was passing in the room
+behind him--the entire apartment, including the door, being reflected in
+the mirror.
+
+Though seated, the occupant of this peculiarly constructed room was
+evidently tall. His shoulders, though narrow, were very square, and in
+any other garment than a thin soutane his slightness of build would
+scarcely have been noticeable. His head was of singular and remarkable
+shape. Very narrow from temple to temple, it was quite level from the
+summit of the high forehead to the spot where the tonsure gleamed
+whitely, and the length of the skull from front to back was abnormal.
+The dullest observer could not have failed to recognise that there was
+something extraordinary in such a head, either for good or evil.
+
+The Abbe Drucquer advanced across the bare stone floor, and took his
+stand at the left side of the table, within a yard of his Provincial's
+elbow. Before taking any notice of him, the Provincial opened a thick
+book bound in dark morocco leather, of which the leaves were of white
+unruled paper, interleaved, like a diary, with blotting paper. The pages
+were numbered, although there was, apparently, no index attached to the
+volume. After a moment's thought, the tall man turned to a certain folio
+which was partially covered by a fine handwriting in short paragraphs.
+Then for the first time he looked up.
+
+"Good evening," he said, in full melodious voice. As he raised his face
+the light of the lamp fell directly upon it. There was evidently no
+desire to conceal any passing expression by the stale old method of a
+shaded lamp. The face was worthy of the head. Clean-cut, calm, and
+dignified; it was singularly fascinating, not only by reason of its
+beauty, which was undeniable, but owing to the calm, almost superhuman
+power that lay in the gaze of the velvety eyes. There was no keenness of
+expression, no quickness of glance, and no seeking after effect by
+mobility of lash or lid. When he raised his eyes, the lower lid was
+elevated simultaneously, which peculiarity, concealing the white around
+the pupil, imparted an uncomfortable sense of inscrutability. There was
+no expression beyond a vague sense of velvety depth, such as is felt
+upon gazing for some space of time down a deep well.
+
+"Good evening," replied Rene Drucquer, meeting with some hesitation the
+slow, kindly glance.
+
+The Provincial leant forward and took from the tray of the inkstand a
+quill pen. With the point of it he followed the lines written in the
+book before him.
+
+"I understand," he said, in a modulated and business-like tone, "that
+you have been entirely successful?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes
+once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in
+the same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the
+book, he returned to the written notes.
+
+"You left," he continued, "on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening
+you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you
+arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part
+has been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with
+all expedition. So--" here the Provincial raised the pen from the book
+with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost
+imperceptibly, "so--you have been entirely successful?"
+
+Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in
+which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood
+motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same
+kind, even voice:
+
+"What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?"
+
+"The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a
+rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast."
+
+"Ah! I am sorry. Had you time--were you enabled to administer to him the
+Holy Rites?"
+
+"No, my father. He was killed at one blow."
+
+The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested
+steadily on the book in front of him.
+
+"Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!" he asked
+indifferently.
+
+"I think not," was the reply. "I endeavoured to prevent such effect
+arising, and--and in this the Englishman helped me greatly."
+
+Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young
+priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching
+his slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his
+black soutane.
+
+"My son," he said smoothly. "As you know, I am a great advocate for
+frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I
+have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar
+treatment. It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory
+respecting your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with
+this Englishman. Is it not so?"
+
+Rene Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his
+hands one over the other.
+
+"He is not such as I expected," he replied after a pause.
+
+"No," said the Provincial meditatively. "They are a strange race. Some
+of them are strong--very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish;
+and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not
+so?"
+
+"Yes, I think he is very intelligent."
+
+"Was he violent or abusive?"
+
+"No; he was calm and almost indifferent."
+
+For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand
+in the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window
+at the end of the table.
+
+"Take a seat, my son," he said, "I have yet many questions to ask you. I
+am afraid I forgot that you might be tired."
+
+"Now tell me," he continued, when Rene had seated himself, "do you think
+this indifference was assumed by way of disarming suspicion and for the
+purpose of effecting a speedy escape?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Did you converse together to any extent?"
+
+"We were naturally thrown together a great deal; especially after the
+death of the 'patron.' He was of great assistance to me and to Hoel
+Grall, the second in command, by reason of his knowledge of seamanship."
+
+"Ah! He is expert in such matters?"
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+A further note was here added to the partially-filled page of the
+manuscript book.
+
+"Of what subjects did he speak? Of religion, our Order, politics,
+himself and his captivity?"
+
+"Of none of those."
+
+The Provincial leant back suddenly in his chair, and for some minutes
+complete silence reigned in the room. He was evidently thinking deeply,
+and his eyes were fixed upon the open book with inscrutable immobility.
+Once he glanced slowly towards Rene Drucquer, who sat with downcast eyes
+and interlocked fingers. Then he pressed back his elbows and inhaled a
+deep breath, as if weary of sitting in one position.
+
+"I have met Englishmen," he said speculatively, "of a type similar--I
+think--to this man. They never spoke of religion, of themselves or of
+their own opinion; and yet they were not silent men. Upon most subjects
+they could converse intelligently, and upon some with brilliancy; but
+these subjects were invariably treated in a strictly general sense. Such
+men _never_ argue, and never appear to be highly interested in that
+of which they happen to be speaking.... They make excellent
+listeners...." Here the speaker stopped for a moment and passed his long
+hand downwards across his eyes as if the light were troubling his sight;
+in doing so he glanced again towards the Abbe's fingers, which were now
+quite motionless, the knuckles gleaming like ivory.
+
+"... And one never knows quite how much they remember and how much they
+forget. Perhaps it is that they hear everything ... and forget nothing.
+Is our friend of this type, my son?"
+
+"I think he is."
+
+"It is such men as he who have made that little island what it is. They
+are difficult subjects; but they are liable to sacrifice their
+opportunities to a mistaken creed they call honour, and therefore they
+are not such dangerous enemies as they otherwise might have been."
+
+The Provincial said these words in a lighter manner, almost amounting to
+pleasantry, and did not appear to notice that the priest moved uneasily
+in his seat.
+
+"Then," he continued, "you have learnt nothing of importance during the
+few days you have passed with him?"
+
+"Nothing, my father."
+
+"Did he make any attempt to communicate with his friends?"
+
+"He wrote a letter which he requested me to post."
+
+The Provincial leant forward in his chair and took a pen in his right
+hand, while he extended his left across the table towards his companion.
+
+"I burnt it," said Rene gently.
+
+"Ah! That is a pity. Why did you do that?"
+
+"I had discretion!" replied the young priest, with quiet determination.
+
+The Provincial examined the point of his pen critically, his perfectly
+formed lips slightly apart.
+
+"Yes," he murmured reflectively. "Yes, of course, you had discretion.
+What was in the letter?"
+
+"A few words in English, telling his friends to have no anxiety, and
+asking them particularly to institute no search, as he would return home
+as soon as he desired to do so."
+
+"Ah! He said that, did he? And the letter was addressed to--"
+
+"Mr. Carew."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+The Provincial made another note in the manuscript book. Then he read
+the whole page over carefully and critically. His attitude was like that
+of a physician about to pronounce a diagnosis.
+
+"And," he said reflectively, without looking up, "was there nothing
+noticeable about him in any way? Nothing characteristic of the man, I
+mean, and peculiar. How would you describe him, in fact?"
+
+"I should say," replied Rene Drucquer, "that his chief characteristic is
+energy; but for some reason, during these last two days this seems to
+have slowly evaporated. His resistance on Wednesday night was very
+energetic--he dislocated my arm, and reset it later--and when the vessel
+was in danger he was full of life. Later this peculiar indifference of
+manner came over him, and hour by hour it has increased in power. It
+almost seems as if he were anxious to keep away from England just now."
+
+The Provincial raised his long white finger to his upper lip. It was the
+action of a man who is in the habit of tugging gently at his moustache
+when in thought, and one would almost have said that the smooth-faced
+priest had at no very distant period worn that manly ornament. His
+finger passed over the shaded skin with a disagreeable, rasping sound.
+
+"That does not sound very likely," he said slowly. "Have you any
+tangible reason, to offer in support of this theory?"
+
+"No, my father. But the idea came to me, and so I mention it. It seemed
+as if this desire came to him upon reflection, after the ship was out of
+danger, and the indifference was contemporaneous with it."
+
+The Provincial suddenly closed the book and laid aside his pen.
+
+"Thank you, my son!" he said, in smooth, heartless tones, "I will not
+trouble you any more to-night. You will need food and rest. Good night,
+my son. You have done well!"
+
+Rene Drucquer rose and gravely passed down the long room. Before he
+reached the door, however, the clear voice of his superior caused him to
+pause for a moment.
+
+"As you go down to the refectory," he said, "kindly make a request that
+Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want
+you to see him before I do!"
+
+When the door had closed behind Rene Drucquer the Provincial rose from
+his seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the
+table. Presently he drew aside the curtain which hid a small recess near
+the door, whore a simple bed and a small table were concealed. With a
+brush he smoothed back his sleek hair, and, dipping the ends of his
+fingers into a basin of water, he wiped them carefully. Thus he prepared
+to receive Christian Vellacott.
+
+He returned to his chair and seated himself somewhat wearily. Although
+there were but few papers on the table, he had three hours' hard work
+before him yet. He leant back, and again, that singular gesture, as if
+to stroke a moustache that was not there, was noticeable.
+
+"I have a dull presentiment," he muttered reflectively, "that we have
+made a mistake here. We have gone about it in the wrong way, and if
+there is blame to be attached to any one, Talma is the man. That temper
+of his is fatal!"
+
+After a pause he heaved a weary sigh, and stretched his long arms out on
+either side, enjoying a free and open yawn.
+
+"Ah me!" he sighed, "what an uphill fight this has become, and day by
+day it grows harder. Day by day we lose power; one hold after another
+slips from our grasp. Perhaps it means that this vast organisation is
+effete--perhaps, after all, we are dying of inanition, and yet--yet it
+should not be, for we have the people still.... Ah! I hear footsteps.
+This is our journalistic friend, no doubt. I think he will prove
+interesting."
+
+A moment later someone knocked softly at the door. There was a slight
+shuffling of feet, and Christian Vellacott entered the room alone. There
+was a peculiar dull expression in his eyes, as if he were suffering
+pain, mental or physical. After glancing at the mirror, the Provincial
+rose and bowed formally with his hand upon the back of his chair. As the
+Englishman came forward the Jesuit glanced at his face, and with a
+polite motion of the hand he said:
+
+"Sir, take the trouble of seating yourself," speaking in French at once,
+with no apology, as if well aware that his companion knew that language
+as perfectly as his own.
+
+"Thank you," replied Christian. He drew the chair slightly forward as he
+seated himself, and fixed his eyes upon the Jesuit's face. Through the
+entire interview he never removed his gaze, and he noticed that until
+the last words were spoken those soft, deep eyes were never raised to
+his.
+
+"I suppose," said the Jesuit at length, almost humbly, "that we are
+irreconcilable enemies, Mr. Vellacott?"
+
+The manner in which this was spoken did not bear the slightest
+resemblance to the cold superiority with which Rene Drucquer had been
+treated.
+
+The Englishman sat with one lean hand resting on the table and watched.
+He knew that some reply was expected, but in face of that knowledge he
+chose to remain silent. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek. The
+inscrutable Provincial had met a foeman worthy of his steel at last. His
+strange magnetic influence threw itself vainly against a will as firm as
+his own, and he felt that his incidental effects, dramatic and
+conversational, fell flat. Instantly he became interested in Christian
+Vellacott.
+
+"I need hardly remind a man of your discrimination, Mr. Vellacott," he
+continued tentatively, "that there are two sides to every question."
+
+The Englishman smiled and moved slightly in his chair, drawing in his
+feet and leaning forward.
+
+"Implying, I presume," he said lightly, "that in this particular
+question you are on one side and I upon the other."
+
+"Alas! it seems so."
+
+Vellacott leant back in his chair again and crossed his legs.
+
+"In my turn," he said quietly, "I must remind you, monsieur, that I am a
+journalist."
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and waited for
+his companion to continue. His silence and the momentary motion of his
+eyebrows, which in no way affected the lids, expressed admirably his
+failure to see the connection of his companion's remark.
+
+"Which means," Christian went on to explain, "that my place is not upon
+either side of the question, but in the middle. I belong to no party,
+and I am the enemy of no man. I do not lead men's opinions. It is my
+duty to state facts as plainly and as coldly as possible in order that
+my countrymen may form their own judgment. It may appear that at one
+time I write upon one side of the question; the next week I may seem to
+write upon the other. That is one of the misfortunes of my calling."
+
+"Then we are not necessarily enemies," said the Jesuit softly.
+
+"No--not necessarily. On the other hand," continued Christian, with
+daring deliberation, "it is not at all necessary that we should be
+friends."
+
+The Jesuit smiled slightly--so slightly that it was the mere ghost of a
+smile, affecting the lines of his small mouth, but in no way relieving
+the soft darkness of his eyes.
+
+"Then we are enemies," he said. "He whose follower I am, said that all
+who are not with Him are against Him."
+
+The Englishman's lips closed suddenly, and a peculiar stony look came
+over his face. There was one subject upon which he had determined not to
+converse.
+
+"I am instructed," continued the Provincial, with a sudden change of
+manner from pleasant to practical, "to ask of you a written promise
+never to write one word either for or against the Society of Jesus
+again. In exchange for that promise I am empowered to tender to you the
+sincere apologies of the Society for the inconvenience to which you may
+have been put, and to assist you in every way to return home at once."
+
+A great silence followed this speech. A small clock suspended somewhere
+in the room ticked monotonously, otherwise there was no sound audible.
+The two men sat within a yard of each other, each thinking, of the other
+in his individual way, from his individual point of view, the Jesuit
+with downcast eyes, his companion watching his immobile features.
+
+At length Christian Vellacott's full and quiet tones broke the spell.
+
+"Of course," he said simply, "I refuse."
+
+The Provincial rose from his seat, pushing it back as he did so.
+
+"Then I will not detain you any longer. You are no doubt fatigued. The
+lay brother waiting outside will show you the room assigned to you, and
+at whatever time of day or night you may wish to see me, remember that I
+am at your service."
+
+Christian rose also. He appeared to hesitate, and then to grasp the
+table with both hands to assist himself. He stood for a moment, and
+suddenly tottered forward. Had not the Provincial caught him he would
+have fallen.
+
+"My head turns," he mumbled incoherently.
+
+"What is the matter? ... what is the matter?"
+
+The Jesuit slipped his arm round him--a slight arm, but as hard and
+strong as steel.
+
+"You are tired," he said sympathetically, "perhaps you have a little
+touch of fever. Come, I will assist you to your room."
+
+And the two men passed out together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+STRICKEN DOWN
+
+
+In later days Christian Vellacott could bring back to his memory no
+distinct recollection of that first night spent in the monastery. There
+was an indefinite remembrance of the steady, monotonous clang of a bell
+in the first hours, doubtless the tolling of the matins, calling the
+elect to prayer at midnight.
+
+After that he must have fallen into a deep, lethargic sleep, for he
+never heard the distant strains of the organ and the melodious chanting
+of gruff voices. The strange, unquiet melody hovered over him in the
+little cell, following him as he glided away from earth upon the blessed
+wings of sleep, and haunted his restless dreams.
+
+The monks were early astir next morning, for the sweet smell of drying
+hay filled the air, and the second crop of the fruitful earth lay
+waiting to be stacked. With tucked-up gowns and bared arms the sturdy
+devotees worked with rake and pitchfork. No whispered word passed
+between them; none raised his head to look around upon the smiling
+landscape or search in the cloudless sky for the tiny lark whose morning
+hymn rippled down to them. Each worked on in silence, tossing the
+scented hay, his mind being no doubt filled with thoughts above all
+earthly things.
+
+Near at hand lay a carefully-kept vegetable garden of large dimensions.
+Here grew in profusion all nourishing roots and herbs, but there was no
+sign of more luscious fruits. Small birds hopped and fluttered here and
+there unheeded and unmolested, calling to each other joyously, and the
+warming air was alive with the hum of tinier wings.
+
+In the midst of this walked man--the lord of all--humbly, silently, with
+bowed head and unadmiring eyes--man whose life was vouchsafed for the
+enjoyment of all these things.
+
+A little square patch of sunlight lay on the stone floor of the small
+cell allotted to Christian Vellacott. The thick oak door deadened the
+sounds of life in the monastery, such as they were, and the strong,
+laboured breathing of the young Englishman alone broke the chill
+silence.
+
+Christian lay, all dressed, on the narrow bed. His eyes were half
+closed, and the ruddy brown of his cheeks had faded into an ashy grey.
+His clenched hands lay numbly at his side. Through his open, swollen
+lips meaningless words came in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Presently the door opened with a creaking sound, but the sleeper moved
+no limb or feature. Rene Drucquer entered the cell and ran quickly to
+the bedside. Behind, with more dignity and deliberation, followed the
+sub-prior of the monastery. The young priest had obtained permission
+from his Provincial to see Christian Vellacott for a few moments before
+his hurried departure for India. Thus Rene had received his mission
+sooner than he had hoped for. The astute and far-seeing Provincial had
+from the beginning intended that Rene Drucquer should be removed from
+harm's way without delay once his disagreeable mission to St. Mary
+Western was performed.
+
+"My father," exclaimed the young priest in alarm, "he is dying!"
+
+The venerable sub-prior bent his head over the bed. He was a tall, spare
+man, with very sunken cheeks, and a marvellous expression of placid
+contentment in his eyes such as one never finds in the face of a young
+monk. He was very learned in medicines, and in the administration of
+such simple herbs as were required to remedy the illnesses within the
+monastery walls. Perhaps some of his patients died when they might have
+lived under more skilled treatment, but it is a short and easy step from
+life to death within a comfortless cell, and his bony hands were as
+tender over his sick brethren as those of a woman.
+
+He felt the Englishman's pulse and watched his ashen face for some
+moments, touching the clammy forehead softly, while Rene Drucquer stood
+by with a great sickening weight of remorse and fear upon his heart.
+Then the sub-prior knelt stiffly down, and placed his clean-shaven lips
+near to Christian's ear.
+
+"My son," he said, "do you hear me?"
+
+Christian breathed less heavily, as if he were listening to some far-off
+sound, but never moved a feature. Presently he began to murmur
+incoherently, and the sub-prior bent his ear to listen.
+
+"Much good would a blessing of mine do you, Hilda," observed Christian
+into the reverend ear. The old gentleman raised his cadaverous head and
+looked somewhat puzzled. Again he listened.
+
+"Look after Aunt Judy--she cannot last long," murmured the young
+Englishman in his native tongue, which was unknown to the monk.
+
+"It is fever," said the sub-prior presently--"one of those terrible
+fevers which kill men as the cold kills flies!"
+
+No thought seemed to enter the monk's mind of possible infection. He
+knelt upon the cold floor with one bare and bony arm beneath the sick
+man's head, while the other lay across his breast. He was looking
+intently into the veiled eyes, inhaling the very breath of the swollen
+lips.
+
+"Will he die, my father?" asked Rene Drucquer in a whisper; his face was
+as pale as Vellacott's.
+
+"He is in the hands of the good God," was the pious answer. The tall
+monk rose to his feet and stood before the bed thinking. He rubbed his
+bony hands together slowly. Through the tiny window a shaft of sunlight
+poured down upon his grizzled head, and showed up relentlessly the deep
+furrows that ran diagonally down from his cheek-bone to his chin.
+
+"You must watch here, my son," he continued, "while I inform the
+Father-Provincial of this."
+
+The venerable sub-prior was no Jesuit, and perhaps he would have been
+just as well pleased had the Provincial elected to live elsewhere than
+in the monastery. But the Prior--an old man of ninety, and incapable of
+work or thought--was completely in the power of the Society.
+
+When he found himself alone with the Englishman, Rene Drucquer sat
+wearily upon a small wooden bench, the only form of seat provided, and
+leaned his narrow face upon his hands.
+
+The prospect that he saw before him as he sat staring vacantly at the
+floor of the little cell was black enough. He saw no possible outlet,
+and he had not the courage to force his way through the barriers erected
+all round him. It must be remembered that he was a Roman Catholic, and
+over a sincere disciple of the Mother Church the power of the Jesuits is
+greater than man should ever be allowed to exercise. The slavery that
+England fought against so restlessly is nothing to it, for mental
+bondage is infinitely heavier than physical service. He had determined
+to accept the Provincial's offer of missionary work in Asia, but the
+sudden horror of realising that he was a Jesuit, and could never be
+anything else than a Jesuit for the rest of his days, was fresh upon
+him. He was too young yet to find consolation in the thought that he at
+all events could attempt to steer a clear, unsullied course through the
+shoals and quicksands that surround a priest's existence, and he was too
+old to buoy himself up with the false hope that he might, despite his
+Jesuit's oath, do some good work for his Church. His awakening had been
+rendered more terrible by the brilliancy of the dreams which it had
+interrupted.
+
+He had not looked upon Christian Vellacott as a victim hitherto, for the
+bravest receive the least sympathy, and the young Englishman's cool way
+of treating his reverse of fortune had repelled pity or commiseration.
+But now all that was changed. Whatever this sickness might prove to be,
+Rene Drucquer felt that the blame of it lay at his own door. If
+Christian Vellacott were to die, he, Rene Drucquer, was in the eyes of
+God a murderer, for he had forcibly brought him to his death. This was
+an unpleasant reflection for a young devotee whose inward soul was full
+of human kindness; and the presence of the strong man who lay gasping
+for breath upon the narrow, comfortless bed was not reassuring.
+
+It was only natural that those thoughts, coupled with the realisation of
+the aimlessness of his own existence, should have bred in the young
+Jesuit's heart a dull fire of antagonism against the man who was in
+immediate authority over him, and when the Provincial noiselessly
+entered the cell a few minutes later, he felt a sudden thrill of
+misgiving at the thought that his feelings were sacred to none--that
+this man with his deep, inscrutable eyes could read the face of his very
+soul like an open book.
+
+In this, Rene Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the
+presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it
+extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this
+knowledge in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him
+in every turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise
+it. Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never
+been turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of
+incurring the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the
+line of life which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the
+love of their fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it.
+
+The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of
+motion. His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his
+eyes rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension.
+He approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist.
+For a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face,
+and then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here
+again there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection.
+
+The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while Rene, who had
+risen from his seat, was near at hand.
+
+"This man, my father," said the Provincial coldly, "must not die. You
+must take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is
+necessary you can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense,
+and I shall be grieved to hear of his death!"
+
+Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had
+already lasted nearly three minutes.
+
+Rene Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and
+the door, so that he was in a position to command attention.
+
+"My father," he pleaded, "may I nurse him?"
+
+The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved
+his hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside.
+
+"No," he said softly, "you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour," and
+he passed out into the noiseless corridor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+BACK TO LIFE
+
+
+One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white
+monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and
+full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial
+promenade.
+
+It is, perhaps, needless to observe that he was alone. No one ever
+walked with the Provincial. No footstep ever crushed the gravel in
+harmony with his gliding tread. Perhaps, indeed, no one had ever walked
+with him thus, in the twilight, since a fairy, dancing form had moved in
+the shadow of his tall person, and footsteps lighter than his own had
+vainly endeavoured to keep time with his longer limbs. But that was in
+no monastery garden; and the useful, vegetable producing enclosure bore
+little resemblance to the chateau terrace. In those days it may be that
+there was a gleam of life in the man's deep, velvety eyes--perhaps,
+indeed, a moustache adorned the short, twisted lip where the white
+fingers rasped so frequently now.
+
+The pious monks were busy with their evening meal, and the Provincial
+was quite alone in the garden. All around him the leaves glowed ruddily
+in the warm light. Everywhere the fruits of earth were ripe and full
+with mature beauty; but the solitary walker noted none of these. He
+paced backwards and forwards with downcast eyes, turning slowly and
+indifferently as if it mattered little where he walked. The merry
+blackbirds in the hay field adjoining the garden called to each other
+continuously, and from a hidden rookery came the voice of the dusky
+settlers, which is, perhaps, the saddest sound in all nature's
+harmonies. But the Jesuit resolutely refused to listen. Once, however,
+he stopped and stood motionless for some seconds, with his head turned
+slightly to meet the distant cry; but he never raised his eyes, which
+were deep and lifeless in their gaze. It may be that there was a rookery
+near that southern chateau, where he once had walked in the solemn
+evening hour, or perhaps he did not hear that sound at all though his
+ear was turned towards it.
+
+It would be hard indeed to read from the priest's still features the
+thoughts that might be passing through his powerful brain; but the
+strange influence of his being was such as makes itself felt without any
+spoken word. As he walked there with his long hands clasped behind his
+back, his peculiarly shaped head bent slightly forward, and his perfect
+lips closely pressed, no one could have looked at him without feeling
+instinctively that no ordinary mind was busy beneath the tiny
+tonsure--that no ordinary soul breathed there for weal or woe, seeking
+after higher things in the right way or the wrong. The man's cultivated
+repose of manner, his evident intellectuality, and his subtle strength
+of purpose visible in every glance of his eyes, betrayed that although
+his life might be passed in the calm retreat of a monastery, his soul
+was not there. The man was never created to pass his existence in
+prayerful meditation; his mission was one of strife and contention
+amidst the strong minds of the age. One felt that he was living in this
+quiet Breton valley for a purpose; that from this peaceful spot he was
+dexterously handling wires that caused puppets--aye, puppets with golden
+crowns--to dance, and smirk, and bow in the farthest corners of the
+earth.
+
+Presently the Jesuit heard footsteps upon the gravel at the far side of
+the garden, but he did not raise his head. His interest in the trivial
+incidents of everyday life appeared to be quite dead.
+
+"Softly, softly!" said a deep, rough voice, which the Provincial
+recognised as that of the sub-prior; then he raised his eyes slightly
+and looked across the garden, without, however, altering his pace.
+
+He saw there Christian Vellacott walking by the side of the hard-faced
+old monk with long, hesitating strides, like a man who had forgotten how
+to use his legs. It was exactly six weeks since the young journalist had
+passed through that garden with Rene Drucquer, and those weeks had been
+to him a strange and not unpleasant dream. It seemed as if the man lying
+upon that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic
+Christian Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily
+comfortable from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a
+speculative description, as if he looked on things from afar off.
+Nothing seemed to matter much. There was an all-pervading sense of
+restful indifference as to whether it might be night or day, morning,
+noon, or evening. All responsibility in existence seemed to have left
+him: his ready pride of self-dependence had given way to a gentle
+obedience, and the passage from wakefulness to sleep was very sweet.
+
+Through all those dreamy hours he heard the soft rustle of woollen
+garments and the suppressed shuffle of sandalled feet. Whenever he
+opened his heavy eyes he discerned vaguely in the dim light a grey,
+still form seated upon the plain wooden bench at his bedside. Whenever
+he tried to change his position upon the hard bed and his weary bones
+refused their function, strong, hard hands were slipped beneath him and
+kind assistance freely given. As a rule, it was the tall sub-prior who
+ministered to the sick man, fighting the dread fever with all his simple
+knowledge; his hands smoothed oftenest the tossed pillow; but many
+clean-shaven, strong, and weary faces were bowed over the bed during
+those six weeks, for there was a competition for the post of sick-nurse.
+The monks loved to feel that they were performing some tangible good,
+and not spending their hours over make-believe tasks like a
+man-of-warsman in fine weather.
+
+One frequent visitor, however, Christian Vellacott never saw beneath his
+lazy lashes. The Provincial never entered that little cell unless he was
+positively informed that its inmate was asleep. The inscrutable Jesuit
+seemed almost to be ashamed of the anxiety that he undoubtedly felt
+respecting the sick man thus thrown upon his hands by a peculiar chain
+of incidents. He spoke coldly and sarcastically to the sub-prior
+whenever he condescended to mention the subject at all; but no day
+passed in which he failed to pay at least one visit to the little cell
+at the end of the long, silent corridor.
+
+"Softly, softly!" said the old sub-prior, holding out his bony hand to
+stay his companion's progress, "you are too ambitious, my son."
+
+Christian laughed in a low, weak voice, and raised his head to look
+round him. The laugh ceased suddenly as he caught sight of the
+Provincial, and across the potato-bed the two strong men looked
+speculatively into each other's eyes in the peaceful twilight. The
+Jesuit's gaze fell first, and with a dignified bow he moved gently away.
+
+"I am stronger than I look, my father," said Christian, turning to his
+companion. Then they walked slowly on, and presently rested upon a
+wooden bench built against the monastery wall.
+
+The young Englishman leaned back and watched the Provincial, who was
+pacing backwards and forwards where they had first seen him. The old
+monk sat with clasped hands, and gravely contemplated the gravel beneath
+his feet. Thus they waited together within the high, whitewashed walls,
+while the light faded from the western sky. Three types, as strangely
+contrasted as the student of human kind could wish to see: the old monk
+with his placid bloodless face and strong useless arms--a wasted
+energy, a mere monument to mistaken zeal; and the younger men so widely
+severed by social circumstances, and yet resembling each other somewhat
+in heart and soul. Each had a strong individuality--each a great and
+far-reaching vitality. Each was, in his way, a power in the world, as
+all strong minds are; for in face of what may be said (and with apparent
+justice) respecting chance and mere good fortune, good men must come to
+the top among their fellows. They must--and most assuredly they do. As
+in olden days the doughtiest knights sought each other in the
+battlefield to measure steel, so in these later times the ruling
+intellects of the day meet and clear a circle round them. The Provincial
+was a power in the Society of Jesus; perhaps he was destined one day to
+be General of it; and Christian Vellacott had suddenly appeared upon the
+field of politic strife, heralding his arrival with two most deadly
+blows dealt in masterly succession. From the first they were sure to
+come together, sooner or later; and now, when they were separated by
+nothing more formidable than a bed of potatoes, they were glancing
+askance and longing to be at each other. But it could not be. Had the
+sub-prior left the garden it would have made no difference. It was
+morally impossible that those two men could speak what they were
+thinking, for one of them was a Jesuit.
+
+The Provincial, however, made the first move, and the Englishman often
+wondered in later days what his intention might have been. He walked on
+to the northern end of the garden, where a few thick-stemmed pear trees
+were trained against the wall. The fruit was hanging in profusion, for
+it was not consumed in the monastery but given to the poor at
+harvest-time. The Provincial selected a brown, ripe pear, and broke it
+delicately from the tree without allowing his fingers to come in contact
+with the fruit itself. Then he turned and walked with the same lazy
+precision towards the two other occupants of the garden. At his approach
+the sub-prior rose from his seat and stood motionless with clasped
+hands; there was a faint suggestion of antagonism in his attitude, which
+was quite devoid of servility. Christian, however, remained seated,
+raising his keen grey eyes to the Provincial's face with a quiet
+self-assertion which the Jesuit ignored.
+
+"I am glad, Monsieur, to see you restored to health," he said coldly to
+Christian, meeting his gaze for a moment.
+
+The Englishman bowed very slightly, and there was a peculiar
+expressiveness in the action which betrayed his foreign education, but
+the cool silence with which he waited for the Provincial to speak again
+was essentially British. The Jesuit moved and glanced slowly beneath his
+lowered eyelids towards the motionless figure of the sub-prior. He was
+too highly bred to allow himself to be betrayed into any sign of
+embarrassment, and too clever to let the Englishman see that he was
+hesitating. After a momentary pause he turned gravely to the sub-prior,
+and said:
+
+"Will you allow your patient, my brother, to taste of our fruit? it is
+ripe and wholesome."
+
+Then, without awaiting a reply, he presented the pear to Vellacott. It
+was a strange action, and no doubt there was some deep intention in it.
+The Jesuit must have known, however, from Rene Drucquer's report, and
+from his own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a
+mould to allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this
+description, however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit
+in which it was conceived. Perhaps he read the Englishman's character
+totally wrong, although his experience of men must have been very great;
+or perhaps he really wished to conciliate him, and took this first step
+with the graceful delicacy of his nation, with a view to following it
+up.
+
+With a conventional word of thanks, Vellacott took the pear and set it
+down upon the bench at his side. Whatever the Jesuit's intention might
+have been, it was frustrated by his quiet action. It would have been so
+easy to have said a few words of praise regarding the fruit, and it was
+only natural to have begun eating it at once; but Vellacott read a
+deeper meaning in all this, and he chose a more difficult course. It was
+assuredly harder to keep silence then than to talk, and a weaker-minded
+man would have thanked the Provincial with effusion. The manner in which
+Vellacott laid the fruit upon the bench, his quiet and deliberate
+silence, conveyed unmistakably and intentionally that the Provincial's
+society was as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. There was nothing to be
+done but take the hint; and in the lowering twilight the solitary,
+miserable man moved reluctantly away. With contemplative hardness of
+heart the Englishman watched him go; there was no feeling of triumph in
+his soul--neither, however, was there pity. The Jesuit had chosen his
+own path, he had reached his goal, and that most terrible thirst--the
+thirst for power--was nearly slaked. If at times--at the end of a long
+day of hard mental work, when men's hearts are softened by weariness and
+lowering peace--he desired something else than power, some little touch
+of human sympathy perhaps, his was the blame if no heart responded to
+his own. Christian Vellacott sat and wondered dreamily, with the
+nonchalance of a man who has been at the very gates of death, if power
+were worth this purchase-money.
+
+The sub-prior had seated himself again, and with his strong hands meekly
+clasped he waited. He knew that something was passing which he could not
+understand: his dull instincts told him vaguely that between these two
+strong men there was war-fare, dumb, sullen, and merciless; but unused
+as he was to the ways of men, unlearned in the intricacies of human
+thoughts, he could not read more.
+
+"You have not told me yet, my father," said Vellacott, "how long I have
+been ill."
+
+"Six weeks, my son," replied the taciturn monk.
+
+"And it was very bad?"
+
+"Yes, very bad."
+
+Christian slowly rubbed his thin hands together. His fingers were moist
+and singularly white, with a bleached appearance about the knuckles. His
+face was thin, but not emaciated, his long jaw and somewhat pronounced
+chin were not more bony than of old, but the expression of his mouth was
+quite changed; his lips were no longer thrust upward with a determined
+curve, and a smile seemed nearer at hand.
+
+"I have a faint recollection of being very tenderly nursed and cared
+for; generally by you, I think. No doubt you saved my life."
+
+The sub-prior moved a little, and drew in his feet.
+
+"The matter was not in my hands," he said quietly.
+
+The Englishman, with some tact, allowed this remark to pass in
+acquiescent silence.
+
+"Did you ever think that ... I was not ... going back to England?" he
+asked presently, in a lighter tone, though the thought of returning
+home brought no smile to his face.
+
+The sub-prior did not reply at once. He appeared to be thinking deeply,
+for he leaned forward in an unmonastic attitude with his knees apart,
+his elbows resting upon them, and his hands clasped. He gazed across the
+prosaic potato-bed with his colourless lips slightly apart.
+
+"One night," he began meditatively, "I went to sit with you after the
+bell for matins had been rung. From midnight till three o'clock you
+never moved. Then I gave you some cordial, and as I stooped over you the
+candle flickered a little; there were strange shadows upon your face,
+but around your lips there was a deeper shade. I had seen it once
+before, on my brother's face when he lay upon the hard Paris pavement
+with a bullet in his lungs, and his breath whistling through the orifice
+as the wind whistles round our walls in winter. I held the candle closer
+to your face, and as I did so, a hand came over my shoulder and took it
+from my fingers. The Father Provincial had come to help me. He said no
+word, but set the candle down upon the bed, and I held you up while he
+administered the cordial drop by drop, as a man oils a cartwheel."
+
+"Ah!" said Christian slowly and suggestively, "_he_ was there!"
+
+The monk made no reply. He sat motionless, with a calm, acquired
+silence, which might have meant much or nothing.
+
+"Did he come often?" inquired the Englishman.
+
+"Very often."
+
+"I never saw him."
+
+This, again, was met with silence. Presently the sub-prior continued his
+narrative.
+
+"When daylight came at last," he said, "the shadow had left your lips. I
+think that night was the worst; it was then that you were nearer ...
+nearer than at any other time."
+
+Christian Vellacott was strong enough now to take his usual interest in
+outward things. With the writer's instinct he went through the world
+looking round him, always studying men and things, watching, listening,
+and storing up experience. The Provincial interested him greatly, but he
+did not dare to show his curiosity; he hesitated to penetrate the
+darkness that surrounded the man's life, past, present, and future. In a
+minor degree the taciturn sub-prior arrested his attention. The old monk
+was in a communicative humour, and the Englishman led him on a little
+without thinking much about the fairness of it.
+
+"Did your brother die?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"He died," was the reply. "Yes, my son, he died--died cursing the
+tyrant's bullet in his lungs. He threw away his life in a vain attempt
+to alter human nature, to set straight that which is crooked and cannot
+be set straight. He sought to bring about at once that which cometh not
+until the lion shall eat straw like an ox. See, my son, that you do not
+attempt the same."
+
+"I think," said Christian, after a pause, "that we all try a little, and
+perhaps some day a great accumulation of little efforts will take place.
+You, my father, have tried as well!"
+
+The monk slowly shook his head, without, however, any great display of
+conviction.
+
+"I was not always a monk," he said, as if seeking to excuse a bygone
+folly.
+
+It was nearly dark now. The birds were silent, and only the whispering
+of the crisp, withering leaves broke the solemn hush of eventide. The
+two men sat side by side without speaking. They had learnt to know each
+other fairly well during the last weeks--so well that between them
+silence was entirely restful. At length Christian moved restlessly. He
+had reached that stage of convalescence where a position becomes irksome
+after a short time. It was merely a sign of returning strength.
+
+"Where is the Abbe Drucquer," he asked abruptly.
+
+"He left us some time ago," was the guarded reply.
+
+"He spoke of going abroad," said Christian, deliberately ignoring the
+sub-prior's tone.
+
+"The Father Provincial told me that the Abbe had gone abroad--to
+India--to spread there the Holy Light to such as are still in darkness."
+
+The young journalist thought that he detected again a faint suggestion
+of antagonism in the sub-prior's voice. The manner in which the
+information was imparted was almost an insult to the Provincial. It was
+a repetition of his words, given in such a manner that had the speaker
+been a man of subtle tongue it would have implied grave doubt.
+
+Christian was somewhat surprised that Rene Drucquer should have attained
+his object so quickly. He never suspected that he himself might have had
+much to do with it, that it had been deemed expedient to remove the
+young priest beyond the possible reach of his influence, because he was
+quite unconscious of this influence. He did not know that its power had
+affected Rene Drucquer, and that some reflection of it had even touched
+the self-contained Provincial--that it was even now making this old
+sub-prior talk more openly than was prudent or wise. He happened to be
+taking the question from a very different point of view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+BACK TO WORK
+
+
+Day by day Christian Vellacott recovered strength. The enforced rest,
+and perhaps also the monastic peacefulness of his surroundings,
+contributed greatly towards this. In mental matters as in physical we
+are subject to contagion, and from the placid recluses, vegetating
+unheeded in the heart of Brittany, their prisoner acquired a certain
+restfulness of mind which was eminently beneficial to his body. Life
+inside those white walls was so sleepy and withal so pleasant that it
+was physically and mentally impossible to think and worry over events
+that might be passing in the outer world.
+
+Presently, however, Christian began to feel idle, which is a good sign
+in invalids; and soon the days became long and irksome. He began to take
+an increased interest in his surroundings, and realised at once how
+little he knew of the existence going on about him. Though he frequently
+passed, in the dim corridors and cloisters, a silent, grey-clad figure,
+exchanging perhaps with him a scarcely perceptible salutation, he had
+never spoken with any other inmates of the monastery than the Provincial
+and the sub-prior.
+
+He noticed also that the watchful care of the nurse had imperceptibly
+glided into that of a warder. He was never allowed out of his cell
+unless accompanied by the sub-prior--in fact, he was a state prisoner.
+His daily walks never extended beyond the one path near the potato bed,
+or backwards and forwards at the sunny end of the garden, where the huge
+pears hung ripely. From neither point was any portion of the surrounding
+country visible, but the Provincial could not veil the sun, and
+Christian knew where lay the west and where the east.
+
+No possible opportunity for escape presented itself, but the Englishman
+was storing up strength and knowledge all the while. He knew that things
+would not go on for long like this, and felt that the Provincial would
+sooner or later summon him to the long room at the end of the corridor
+upon the upper floor.
+
+This call came to him three weeks after the day when the two men had met
+in the garden--nine weeks after the Englishman's captivity had
+commenced.
+
+"My son," said the sub-prior one afternoon, "the Father Provincial
+wishes to speak with you to-day at three."
+
+Christian glanced up at the great monastery clock, which declared the
+time to be a quarter to three.
+
+"I am ready," he said quietly. There was no tremor in his voice or light
+in his eyes, and he continued walking leisurely by the side of the old
+monk; but a sudden thrill of pleasant anticipation warmed his heart.
+
+A little later they entered the monastery and mounted the stone stairs
+together. As they walked along the corridor the clock in the tower
+overhead struck three.
+
+"I will wait for you at the foot of the stairs," said the monk slowly,
+as if with some compunction. Then he led the way to the end of the
+corridor and knocked at the door. He stood back, as if the Provincial
+were in the habit of keeping knockers waiting. Such was, at all events,
+the case now, and some minutes elapsed before a clear, low voice bade
+him enter.
+
+The monk opened the door and stood back against the wall for Christian
+to pass in. The Provincial was seated at the table near the window,
+which was open, the afternoon being sultry although the autumn was
+nearly over. At his left hand stood the small Venetian mirror which
+enabled him to see who was behind him without turning round.
+
+As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly,
+with one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the
+left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up:
+
+"Be good enough--Mr. Vellacott."
+
+When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and
+fixed them upon the Englishman's face. The action was slightly dramatic,
+but very effective, and clearly showed that he was accustomed to find
+the eyes of others quail before his. Christian met the gaze with a
+calmness more difficult to meet than open defiance. After a moment they
+turned away simultaneously.
+
+"I need scarcely," said the Provincial, with singular sweetness of
+manner, which, however, was quite devoid of servility, "apologise to
+you, Monsieur, for speaking in French, as it is almost your native
+language."
+
+Christian bowed, at the same time edging somewhat nearer to the table.
+
+"There are one or two matters," continued the Jesuit, speaking faster,
+"upon which I have been instructed to treat with you; but first I must
+congratulate you upon your restoration to health. Your illness has been
+very serious... I trust that you have had nothing to complain of... in
+the treatment which you have received at our hands."
+
+Christian, while sitting quite motionless, was making an exhaustive
+survey of the room.
+
+"On the contrary," he said, in a conventional tone which, in comparison
+to his companion's manner, was almost brutal, "it is probably owing to
+the care of the sub-prior that I am alive at the present moment, and--"
+
+He stopped suddenly; an almost imperceptible motion of the Jesuit's
+straight eyebrows warned him.
+
+"And...?" repeated the Provincial, interrogatively. He leant back in his
+chair with an obvious air of interest.
+
+"And I am very grateful----to him."
+
+"The reverend father is a great doctor," said the Jesuit lightly.
+"Excuse me," he continued, rising and leaning across the table, "I will
+close the window; the air from the river begins to grow cool."
+
+The journalist moved slightly, looking over his shoulder towards the
+window; at the same moment he altered, with his elbow, the position of
+the small mirror standing upon the table. Instead of reflecting the
+whole room, including the door at the end, it now reproduced the blank
+wall at the side opposed to the curtained recess where the bed was
+placed.
+
+"And now, Mr. Vellacott," continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, "I
+must beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual
+frankness, and--and it seems to me that a certain allowance for
+respective circumstances can well be demanded."
+
+He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became
+absorbed for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
+
+"From your pen," he then said, in a businesslike monotone, "there has
+emanated a serious and hitherto unproved charge against the Holy Society
+of Jesus. It came at a critical moment in the political strife then
+raging in France; and, in proportion to the attention it attracted, harm
+and calumny accrued to the Society. I am told that your motives were
+purely patriotic, and your desire was nothing beyond a most laudable one
+of keeping your countrymen out of difficulties. Before I had the
+pleasure of seeing you I said, 'This is a young journalist who, at any
+expense, and even at the sacrifice of truth, wishes to make a name in
+the world and force himself into public attention.' Since then I have
+withdrawn that opinion."
+
+During these remarks the Provincial had not raised his eyes from the
+table. He now leant back in the chair and contemplated his own clasped
+hands. Christian had listened attentively. His long, grave face was
+turned slightly towards the Provincial, and his eyes were perhaps a
+little softer in their gaze.
+
+"I endeavoured," he said, "some weeks ago, to explain my position."
+
+The Jesuit inclined his head. Then he raised his long white finger to
+his upper lip, stroking the blue skin pensively.
+
+Presently he raised his eyes to the Englishman's face, and in their
+velvety depths Christian thought he detected an expression which was
+almost pleading. It seemed to express a desire for help, for some slight
+assistance in the performance of a difficult task. He never again looked
+into those eyes in all his life, but the remembrance of them remained in
+his heart for many years after the surrounding incidents had passed away
+from memory and interest. He knew that the Soul looking forth from that
+pale and heartless face was of no ordinary mould or strength. In later
+years, when they were both grey-haired men whose Yea or No was of some
+weight in the world--one speaking with the great and open voice of the
+Press, the other working subtly, dumbly, secretly--their motives may
+have clashed once more, their souls may have met and touched, as it
+were, over the heads of the People, but they never looked into each
+other's eyes again.
+
+The Provincial moved uneasily.
+
+"It has been a most unfortunate business," he said gently, and after a
+pause continued more rapidly, with his eyes upon the book. "I am
+instructed to lay before you the apologies of the Society for the
+inconvenience to which you have been put. Your own sense of justice will
+tell you that we were bound to defend ourselves in every way. You have
+done us a great injury, and, as is our custom, we have contradicted
+nothing. The Society of Jesus does not defend itself in the vain hope of
+receiving justice at the hands of men. I am now in a position to inform
+you again that you are at liberty--free to go where you will, when you
+will--and that any sum you may require is at your disposal to convey you
+home to England ... on your signing a promise never to write another
+word for private or public circulation on the subject of the Holy Order
+of Jesus, or to dictate to the writing of another."
+
+"I must refuse," said Christian laconically, almost before the words had
+left the Jesuit's lips. "As I explained before, I am simply a public
+servant; what I happen to know must ever be at the public disposal or I
+am useless."
+
+A short silence followed this remark. When at length the Provincial
+spoke his tone was cold and reserved.
+
+"Of course," he said, "I expected a refusal--at first. I am instructed
+to ask you to reconsider your refusal and to oblige me, at the end of a
+week, with the result of your meditations. If it remains a refusal,
+another week will be accorded, and so on."
+
+"Until--?"
+
+The Jesuit closed the book upon the table in front of him and with great
+care altered its position so that it lay quite squarely. He raised his
+eyebrows slightly and glanced sideways towards the Englishman. At that
+moment the bell began summoning the devotees to their evening meal, its
+deep tone vibrating weirdly through the bare corridors.
+
+"Until you accept," suggested he softly.
+
+Christian looked at him speculatively. The faintest suspicion of a smile
+hovered for a moment in his eyes, and then he turned and looked out of
+the window.
+
+"I hope, Monsieur," continued the Jesuit, "that when I have the pleasure
+of seeing you--a week hence--your health will be quite re-established!"
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"And in the meantime I shall feel honoured by your asking for anything
+you may require."
+
+"Thank you!" answered Christian again. He was still looking over his
+shoulder, down at the brown river which ran immediately below the
+window.
+
+"Please excuse my rising to open the door for you," said the Provincial,
+with cool audacity, "but I have a few words to write before joining our
+brethren at their evening repast."
+
+Christian turned and looked at him vaguely. There was a peculiar gleam
+in his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. Then he rose and, as he
+passed the Jesuit, bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his grave
+salutation. He walked quickly down the length of the room, which was not
+carpeted, and opened the door, closing it again with some noise
+immediately. But he never crossed the threshold. To the man sitting at
+the table it was as if the Englishman had left the room, closing the
+door after him.
+
+Presently the Provincial glanced at the mirror, from mere habit, and
+found that it was displaced. He re-arranged it thoughtfully, so that the
+entire room was included in its field of reflection.
+
+"I wonder," he said aloud, "when and why he did that!"
+
+Then he returned to his writing. In a few minutes, however, he rose and
+pushed back his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back he stood
+and gazed fixedly out of the window. Beneath him the brown water glided
+past with curling eddy and gleaming ripple, while its soft murmur was
+the only sound that broke the pathetic silence surrounding this lonely
+man. His small and perfectly formed face was quite expressionless; the
+curve of his thin lips meant nothing; all the suppressed vitality of his
+being lay in those deep, soft eyes over which there seemed to be a veil.
+Presently he turned, and with lithe, smooth steps passed down the long
+room and out of the door.
+
+Instantly Christian Vellacott came from his hiding-place within the
+recess. He ran to the window and opened it noiselessly. A moment later
+he was standing upon the stone sill. The afternoon sun shone full upon
+his face as he stood there, and showed a deep red flush on either cheek.
+Slowly he stooped forward, holding with one hand to the woodwork of the
+window while he examined critically the surface of the water. Suddenly
+he threw his arms forward and like a black shadow dived noiselessly,
+passing into the depth without a splash. When he rose to the surface he
+turned to look at the monastery. The Provincial's window was the only
+outlet directly on to the river.
+
+The stream was rapid, and after swimming with it for a short time he
+left the water and lay down to recover his breath under the friendly
+cover of some bushes. There he remained for some time, while the short
+October twilight closed over the land. A man just dragged from the jaws
+of death, he lay in his wet clothes where he first found shelter without
+even troubling to move his limbs from the pools of water slowly
+accumulating. Already the monastery was a thing of the past. With the
+rapid forethought of his generation he was already looking to the
+future. He knew too well the spirit of the people in France to fear
+pursuit. The monks never ventured beyond their own walls except on
+ostentatious missions of charity. The machinations of the Society of
+Jesus were less to be feared in France than in England, and he had only
+to take his story to the nearest sub-prefecture to raise a storm of
+popular opinion in his favour. But this was not his project. With him,
+as in all human plans, his own personal feelings came before the
+possible duty he owed to the public. He lay beneath the bramble
+undergrowth, and speculated as to what might have taken place subsequent
+to his disappearance. At that moment the fortunes of the _Beacon_
+gave him no food for thought. What Mr. Bodery and his subordinate might,
+or might not, think found no interest in his mind. All his speculations
+were confined to events at St. Mary Western, and the outcome of his
+meditations was that when the friendly cover of darkness lay on the land
+he rose and started to walk briskly across the well-tilled country
+towards the north.
+
+That portion of Brittany which lies along the northern coast is a
+pastoral land where sleep occupies the larger half of man's life.
+Although it was only evening, an hour when Paris and London recover, as
+it were, from the previous night's vigil and brighten up into vigour,
+the solitary Englishman passed unheeded through the squalid villages,
+unmolested along the winding roads. Mile after mile of scanty forest
+land and rich meadow were left behind, while, except for a few
+heavily-breathing cattle, he met no sign of life. At last he came upon
+a broader road which bore unmistakable signs of military workmanship in
+its construction, and here he met, and passed with laconic greeting, a
+few peasant women returning with empty baskets from some neighbouring
+market; or perhaps a "cantonnier" here and there, plodding home with
+"sabots" swinging heavily and round shoulders bent beneath the burden
+of his weighty stone-breaking implements.
+
+Following the direction of this road his course was now towards the
+north-east, with more tendency to the eastward than he desired, but
+there was no choice. About eight o'clock he passed through a small
+village, which appeared to be already wrapped in stupid slumber such as
+attends the peasant's pillow. A cock crowed loudly, and in reply a dog
+barked with some alarm, but Christian was already beyond the village
+upon the deserted high road again.
+
+He now began to feel the weakening effect of his illness; his legs
+became cramped, and he frequently rested at the roadside. The highway
+was running still more to the eastward now, and Christian was just
+beginning to consider the advisability of taking to the country again,
+when it joined a broader road cut east and west. Here he stopped short,
+and, raising his head, stood quite still for some moments.
+
+"Ah!" he muttered. "The sea. I smell the sea."
+
+He now turned to the left, and advanced along the newly-discovered road
+towards the west. As he progressed the pungent odour of seaweed
+refreshed him and grew stronger every moment. Suddenly he became aware
+that although high land lay upon his left hand there was to his right a
+hollow darkness without shadow or depth. No merry plash of waves came to
+explain this; the smell of the sea was there, but the joyous tumble of
+its waters was not to be heard. The traveller stooped low and peered
+into the darkness. Gradually he discerned a distant line of horizon, and
+to that point there seemed to stretch a vast dead sheet of water without
+light or motion. Upon his ears there stole a soft bubbling sound, varied
+occasionally by a tiny ripple. Suddenly a flash of recollection appeared
+to pass through the watcher's mind, and he muttered an exclamation of
+surprise as he turned towards the east and endeavoured to pierce the
+gloom. He was right. Upon the distant line of horizon a jagged outline
+cut the sky. It was like the form of a huge tooth jutting out from the
+softer earth. Such is Mont St. Michel standing grandly alone in the
+midst of a shallow, sullen sea. The only firm thing among the quaking
+sands, the only stone for miles around.
+
+"The Bay of Cancale!" reflected Christian. "If I keep to the westward I
+shall reach St. Malo before ten o'clock!"
+
+And he set off with renewed vigour. From his feet there stretched away
+to the north a great dead level of quicksand, seething, bubbling, and
+heaving in the darkness. The sea, and yet no sea. Neither honest land
+nor rolling water.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+SIGNOR BRUNO
+
+
+Silas Lebrun, captain and part-owner of the brig _Agnes and Mary_
+of Jersey, was an early riser. Moreover, the old gentleman entertained
+peculiar views as to the homage due to Morpheus. He made no elaborate
+toilet before entering the presence of that most lovable god. Indeed he
+always slept in his boots, and the cabin-boy had on several occasions
+invited the forecastle hands to believe that he neither removed the
+ancient sealskin cap from his head nor the wooden pipe from his lips
+when slumber soothed his senses; but this statement was always set aside
+as unauthenticated.
+
+In person the ancient sailor was almost square, with short legs and a
+body worthy of promotion to something higher. His face was wrinkled and
+brown, like the exterior of that incomprehensible fruit the medlar,
+which is never ripe till it is bad, and then it is to be avoided. A
+yellow-grey beard clustered closely round a short chin, and when
+perchance the sealskin cap was absent yellow-grey hair of a similar hue
+completed the circle, standing up as high from his brow as fell the
+beard downward from his chin. A pair of intensely blue eyes, liquid
+always with the milk of human kindness, rendered the hirsute medlar a
+pleasant thing to look at.
+
+The _Agnes and Mary_ was ready for sea, her cargo of potatoes, with
+a little light weight in the way of French beans and eggs, comfortably
+stowed, and as Captain Lebrun emerged from what he was pleased to call
+his "state-room" with the first breath of a clear morning he performed
+his matinal toilet with a certain sense of satisfaction. This
+operation was simple, consisting merely in the passage of four very
+brown fingers through the yellow-grey hair, and a hurried dispersal of
+the tobacco ash secreted in his beard.
+
+The first object that met the mariner's astonished gaze was the long
+black form of a man stretched comfortably upon the cabin locker. The
+green mud adhering to the sleeper's thin shoes showed that he had
+climbed on board at low tide when the harbour was dry.
+
+Captain Lebrun gazed meditatively at the intruder for some moments. Then
+he produced a powerfully-scented pipe of venerable appearance, which had
+been, at various stages of its existence, bound in a seaman-like manner
+with pieces of tarred yarn. He slowly filled this object, and proceeded
+to inform it in a husky voice that he was "blowed." The pipe was,
+apparently, in a similar condition, as it refused absolutely to answer
+to the powerful suction applied to it.
+
+He then seated himself with some difficulty upon the corner of the low
+table, and examined the sleeper critically.
+
+"Poor devil," he again said, addressing himself to his pipe. "He's one
+of them priest fellows.--Hi, mister!" he observed, raising his voice.
+
+Christian Vellacott woke up at once, and took in the situation without
+delay. He was not of those who must go through terrible contortions
+before regaining their senses after sleep.
+
+"Good morning, Captain!" he observed pleasantly.
+
+"Oh--yourn't a parlee voo, then!"
+
+"No, I'm an Englishman."
+
+"Indeed. Then you'll excuse me, but what in the name of glory are you
+doing here?"
+
+Christian sat up and looked at his muddy shoes with some interest.
+
+"Well, the truth is that I am bolting. I want to get across to England.
+I saw where you hailed from by your rig, and clambered on board last
+night. It seemed to me that when an Englishman is in a hole he cannot do
+better than go to a fellow-countryman for help."
+
+Captain Lebrun made a mighty effort to force a passage through his pipe,
+and was rewarded by a very high-pitched squeak.
+
+"Ay!" he said doubtfully. "But what sort of hole is it? Nothing dirty,
+I'm hopin'. Who are yer? Why are ye runnin' away, and who are ye runnin'
+from?"
+
+Though a trifle blunt the sailor's manner was not unfriendly, and
+Christian laughed before replying.
+
+"Well," he said, "to tell you the whole story would take a long time.
+You remember perhaps there was a row, about two months ago, respecting
+some English rifles found in Paris?"
+
+"Of course I remember that; we had a lot o' trouble with the Customs
+just then. The thing was ferreted out by a young newspaper fellow!"
+
+Christian rubbed his hands slowly together. He was terribly anxious to
+hear the sequel.
+
+"I am that newspaper fellow," he said, with a quick smile.
+
+Captain Lebrun slowly stood up. He contemplated his pipe thoughtfully,
+then laying it upon the table he turned solemnly towards Christian, and
+held out a broad brown hand which was covered with scales in lieu of
+skin.
+
+"Shake hands, mister?" he said.
+
+Christian obliged him.
+
+"And now," he said quickly, "I want to know what has happened
+since--since I left England. Has there been a great row? Has ... has
+anybody wondered where I was?"
+
+The old sailor may have had his suspicions. He may have guessed that
+Christian Vellacott had not left England at the dictates of his own free
+will, for he looked at him very kindly with his liquid blue eyes, and
+replied slowly:--
+
+"I couldn't say that _nobody_ hasn't been wonderin' where ye was,
+but--but there's been nothing in the papers!"
+
+"That is all right! And now will you give me a passage, Captain?"
+
+"Course I will! We sail about eleven this morning. I'm loaded and
+cleared out. But I should like you to have a change o' clothes. Can't
+bear to see ye in them black things. It makes me feel as if I was
+talkin' to a priest."
+
+"I should like nothing better," replied Christian, as he rose and
+contemplated his own person reflectively.
+
+"Come into my state-room then. I've got a few things of my own, and a
+bit of a slop-chest: jerseys and things as I sell to the men."
+
+The Captain's wardrobe was of a marine character and somewhat rough in
+texture. He had, however, a coat and waistcoat of thick blue pilot-cloth
+which fitted Christian remarkably well, but the continuations thereof
+were so absurdly out of keeping with the young fellow's long limbs as to
+precipitate the skipper on to the verge of apoplexy. When he recovered,
+and his pipe was re-lighted, he left the cabin and went forward to
+borrow a pair of the required articles from Tom Slake, an ordinary
+seaman of tall and slim proportions. In a short time Christian Vellacott
+bore the outward semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar,
+except that his cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was
+promptly commented upon by the blunt old sailor.
+
+Secrecy was absolutely necessary, so Tom, of the long legs, was the only
+person to whom Christian's presence was made known; and he it was who
+(in view of a possible berth as steward later on) was entrusted with the
+simple culinary duties of the vessel.
+
+Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity. A long shiny
+loaf of yesterday's bread, some butter in a saucer--which vessel was
+deemed entirely superfluous in connection with cups--brown sugar in an
+old mustard-tin, with portions of yellow paper adhering to it, and solid
+slices of bacon brought from the galley in their native frying-pan. Such
+slight drawbacks, however, as there might have been in the matter of
+table-ware disappeared before the sense of kindly hospitality with which
+Captain Lebrun poured the tea into a cracked cup and a borrowed
+pannikin, dropping in the sugar with careful judgment from his brown
+fingers. Such defects as there might have lurked in the culinary art as
+carried on in the galley vanished before the friendly solicitude with
+which Tom tilted the frying-pan to pour into Christian's plate a bright
+flow of bacon-fat cunningly mingled with cinders.
+
+When the meal had been duly despatched Captain Lebrun produced his pipe
+and proceeded to fill it, after having extracted from its inward parts
+the usual high-toned squeak.
+
+Christian leant back against the bulkhead with his hands buried deeply
+in Tom's borrowed pockets. He felt much more at home in pilot cloth than
+in cashmere.
+
+"There is one more thing I should like to borrow," he said.
+
+"Ay?" repeated the captain interrogatively, as he searched in his
+waistcoat-pocket for a match.
+
+"Ay, what is it?"
+
+"A pipe. I have not had a smoke for two months."
+
+The Captain struck a light upon his leg.
+
+"I've got one somewhere," he replied reassuringly; "carried it for many
+years now, just in case this one fell overboard or got broke."
+
+Tom, who happened to be present, smiled audibly behind a hand which was
+hardly a recommendation for the coveted berth of steward, but Christian
+looked at the battered pipe with sympathetic gravity.
+
+At ten o'clock the _Agnes and Mary_ warped out of harbour and
+dropped lazily down the Rance, setting sail as she went. Christian had
+spent most of the morning in the little cabin smoking Captain Lebrun's
+reserve pipe, and seeking to establish order among the accounts of the
+ship. The accounts were the _bete noire_ of the old sailor's
+existence. Upon his own confession he "wasn't no arithmetician," and
+Christian found, upon inspecting his accounts, no cause to contradict
+this ambiguous statement.
+
+When the _Agnes and Mary_ was clear of the harbour he went on deck,
+where activity and maritime language reigned supreme. The channel was
+narrow and the wind light, consequently the little brig drifted more or
+less at her own sweet will. This would have been well enough had the
+waterway been clear of other vessels, but the Jersey steamer was coming
+in, with her yellow funnel gleaming in the sunlight, her mail-flag
+fluttering at her foremast, and her captain swearing on the bridge, with
+the whistle-pull in his hand.
+
+Seeing that the _Agnes and Mary_ had no steerage way, the captain
+stopped his engines for a few minutes, and then went ahead again at
+half-speed. This brought the vessels close together, and, as is the
+invariable custom in such circumstances, the two crews stared stonily at
+each other. On the deck were one or two passengers enjoying the morning
+air after a cramped and uncomfortable night. Among these was an old man
+with a singularly benign expression; he was standing near the
+after-wheel, gazing with senile placidity towards St. Malo. As the
+vessels neared each other, however, he walked towards the rail, and
+stood there with a pleasant smile upon his face, as if ready to exchange
+a greeting with any kindred soul upon the _Agnes and Mary_.
+
+Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old
+man and watched him with some interest--not, however, altering his
+position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in
+due course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme
+stern of his ship.
+
+Then the young journalist removed Captain Lebrun's spare pipe from his
+lips, and leaning sideways over the water, called out:
+
+"Good morning, Signor Bruno!"
+
+The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman
+was peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared
+at the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden
+access of fury.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from
+beneath his smooth white brows. "Ah! it is you!"
+
+Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the
+little strip of water.
+
+Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his
+coat. He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught
+in the lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his
+face. A dull red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed
+ruddily, as if shot with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with
+his breast against the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the
+two ships passed away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the
+clean deck, grasping a pistol in his right hand.
+
+Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and
+smiling reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers
+crowd round him, but the _Agnes and Mary_ had now caught the breeze
+and was moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the
+water in little golden bars.
+
+"Apperlexy!" said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found
+Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer.
+"Apperlexy!"
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Christian.
+
+"I do," was the reply, given with some conviction. "I seen a man fall
+just like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a
+moment of excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once.
+Apperlexy they said it was."
+
+"It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?" said Christian
+absently.
+
+"Ay, it did," said the captain. "Ye seemed to know him!"
+
+Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. "I have met
+him twice," he said quietly. "He was in England for some years, I
+believe; a political refugee, he called himself."
+
+By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive
+attention to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well
+or ill, according to their fancy. He knew that Christian Vellacott
+wished to tell him no more, and he was content that it should be so, but
+he had noticed a circumstance which, from the young journalist's
+position, was probably invisible. He turned to give an order to the man
+at the wheel, and then walked slowly and with some difficulty (for
+Captain Lebrun suffered, in a quiet way, agonies from rheumatism) back
+towards his passenger.
+
+"Seemed to me," he said reflectively, as he looked upwards to see if the
+foretopsail was shivering, "as if he had something in his hand when a'
+fell."
+
+Christian followed the Captain's gaze. The sails were now filling well,
+and there was an exhilarating sound of straining cordage in the air
+while the vessel glided on. The young journalist was not an
+impressionable man, but he felt all these things.  The sense of open
+freedom, the gentle rise and fall of the vessel, the whirring breeze,
+and the distant line of high land up the Rance towards Dinant--all
+these were surely worth hearing, feeling, and seeing; assuredly, they
+added to the joy of living.
+
+"Something in his hand," he repeated gravely; "what was it?"
+
+Captain Lebrun turned sideways towards the steersman, and made a little
+gesture with his left hand. A wrinkle had appeared in one corner of the
+foretopsail. Then he looked round the horizon with a sailor's
+far-seeing gaze, before replying.
+
+"Seemed to me," he mumbled, without taking his pipe from his lips,
+"that it was a revolver."
+
+Then the two men smoked in silence for some time. The little vessel
+moved steadily out towards the blue water, passing a lighthouse built
+upon a solitary rock, and later a lightship, with its clean red hull
+gleaming in the sunlight as it rose and fell lazily. So close were they
+to the latter that the man watching on deck waved his hand in
+salutation.
+
+Still Vellacott had vouchsafed no reply to Captain Lebrun's strange
+statement. He sat on the low rail, swinging one leg monotonously, while
+the square little sailor stood at his side with that patient maritime
+reflectiveness which is being slowly killed by the quicker ways of
+steam.
+
+"My calling brings me into contact with a rum lot of people," said the
+young fellow at last, "and I suppose all of us make enemies without
+knowing it."
+
+With this vague elucidation the little skipper was forced to content
+himself. He gave a grunt of acquiescence, and walked forward to
+superintend the catheading of the anchor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+
+
+One would almost have said that the good citizen Jacquetot was restless
+and disturbed. It was not that the little tobacco shop left aught to be
+desired in the way of order, neither had the tobacconist quitted his
+seat at the window-end of the counter. But he was not smoking, and at
+short intervals he drew aside the little red curtain and looked out into
+the quiet Rue St. Gingolphe with a certain eagerness.
+
+The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually
+waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of
+September in a year which it is not expedient to name, he seemed to be
+looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by
+surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast
+forehead at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a
+snuff-taker have recourse to that solace more frequently when he is
+agitated than when a warm calm reigns within his breast.
+
+"So quiet--so quiet," he muttered, "in our little street--and in the
+others--who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters lowered
+there."
+
+He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter of an
+occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
+
+Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal of the _Petit
+Journal_. Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply
+and drew aside the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The
+footsteps were hurried and yet hesitating--the gait of a person not
+knowing his whereabouts. And yet the man who entered the shop a moment
+later was evidently the same who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when
+last we met him.
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "It is you!"
+
+"No," replied the other. "It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot--I
+think you call it."
+
+"But, yes!" exclaimed the fat man in amazement. "You are that citizen,
+and you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne."
+
+The new-comer was looking round him curiously; he stepped towards the
+curtained door, and turned the handle.
+
+"I am," he said, "his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is
+this the room? Yes!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance."
+
+The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
+
+"Go," said the other, "and get a mattress. Bring it and lay it on this
+table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit."
+
+Jacquetot rose laboriously from his seat. He knew now that this was not
+the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke
+with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be
+obeyed. He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People.
+The Vicomte d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different
+people--this man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders
+without heeding the reception of them.
+
+The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small
+door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving
+the new-comer alone.
+
+A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the
+Rue St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man
+passed through the little curtained doorway into the room at the back of
+the shop, closing the door after him.
+
+The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite
+still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door
+when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it
+behind him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
+
+Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood
+looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in
+height and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird
+and unpleasant in their action--in their silence.
+
+"Ah!" said the last comer. "It is thou. I almost fired!"
+
+And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
+
+"Why have you done this?" continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. "I thought
+we agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us
+both without meeting, if we exercised a little care."
+
+"She is dead," replied the brother. "She died two years ago--the wife of
+Prangius--what does it matter now?"
+
+"I know that--but why did you come?"
+
+"I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade,
+and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?"
+
+The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast;
+the light of the gas flickered, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did
+so.
+
+"In my chest," he replied. "I am simply dripping with blood. It has
+trickled down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first--and then very
+cold."
+
+The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety eyes there
+passed that strange contraction which has been noted in the glance of
+the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+
+"I have sent for a mattress," he said. "That bullet must come out. A
+doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant."
+
+"One of your Jesuits?"
+
+"Yes--one of my Jesuits."
+
+The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced. He staggered a little, and
+clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
+
+"Why do you not sit down?" he suggested coldly. "There are none of
+your--_People_--here to be impressed."
+
+Again the Vicomte smiled.
+
+"Yes," he said smoothly, "we work on different lines, do we not? I
+wonder which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two--the
+two fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third--a
+dolt. Thus are they made--these women!"
+
+"And yet," said the Jesuit, "you have not forgotten."
+
+The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids were heavy,
+requiring an effort to lift them.
+
+"I do not like to hear the rooks call--that is all," he said.
+
+The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed
+to overcome Christian Vellacott's quiet defiance--
+
+"Nor I," he said. "It makes one remember."
+
+There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke--sharply and
+suddenly.
+
+"Sit down, you fool!" he said. "You are fainting."
+
+The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the
+tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
+
+The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure gleaming whitely
+amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table.
+Then the two men, the Provincial and the tobacconist of the Rue St.
+Gingolphe, lifted the wounded aristocrat gently and placed him upon the
+improvised bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no
+sound of agony, but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's
+blouse in which he was disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the
+doctor arrived. He was quite a young man, with shifting grey eyes, and
+he saluted the Provincial with a nervous obsequity which was unpleasant
+to look upon. The deftness with which he completed the task of laying
+bare the wound was notable. His fingers were too clever to be quite
+honest. When, however, he was face to face with the little blue-rimmed
+orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's muscular chest, the expression of
+his face--indeed his whole manner--changed. His eyes lost their
+shiftiness--he seemed to forget the presence of the great man standing
+at the other side of the table.
+
+While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte
+d'Audierne opened his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" said the doctor, noting this at once. "You got this on the
+Boulevard?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How did you get here?" He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
+
+"Cab."
+
+"All the way?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Who carried you into this room?" asked the doctor, returning to his
+case of instruments.
+
+"No one! I walked." The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently
+aggravated his patient.
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the
+Vicomte.
+
+"In order to avoid attracting attention."
+
+This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was
+instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again
+the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that
+of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He
+said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar restraint to his
+preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the
+persistent gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his
+face.
+
+"Will Monsieur take chloroform," he asked, unfolding a clean
+pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
+
+"No!"
+
+"But--I beg of you------"
+
+"It is not necessary," persisted the Vicomte calmly.
+
+The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little
+movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible
+elevation of the eyebrows.
+
+The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered
+bottle.
+
+Then the doctor muttered:
+
+"As you will!"
+
+He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress--the gas was turned up
+as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a
+moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning
+towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
+
+Quick as thought, he suddenly darted forward and pressed the clean
+handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte
+d'Audierne gave a little smothered exclamation of rage, and raised his
+arms; but the Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the
+mattress.
+
+After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay
+unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn back in anger, so
+that the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
+
+"It is possible," said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, "that
+Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room."
+
+Like a cat over its prey, the young doctor leant across the mattress.
+Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the
+order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless
+movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous--neat, rapid,
+and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed beneath
+the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on his
+shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red stripes
+there.
+
+After the lapse of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he
+held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
+
+"That is the bullet, my father," he said, without ceasing his
+occupation, and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
+
+"Will he live?" asked the Jesuit casually, while he examined the bullet.
+
+"If he tries, my father," was the meaning reply.
+
+The young doctor was bandaging now, skilfully and rapidly.
+
+"This would be the death of a dog," said the Provincial, as if musing
+aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had
+withdrawn some time before.
+
+"Better than the life of a dog," replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly
+mocking way, without opening his eyes.
+
+It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the
+entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they
+would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are
+like a strong spirit--light and yet potent--that floats upon the top of
+all other liquids and will mingle with none.
+
+It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without
+quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly
+observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never
+was the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical, so sceptical, as in the presence
+of his brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so
+Jesuitical, as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
+
+Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far
+apart now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte
+d'Audierne had hurried away from the deserted shore of the Cote du Nord,
+leaving his brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit in his neck.
+That slit had healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in
+both their hearts.
+
+True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he
+said that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the
+world who could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to
+test his authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose
+of seeing his brother--senior by an hour. There were many things of
+which he wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a
+more recent date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott--one of the
+few men who had succeeded in outwitting him--of Signor Bruno, or Max
+Talma, who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a
+sudden, voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at
+the sight of his face.
+
+But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is
+full of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that
+wonderful _inner_ history of France which is the most romantic
+story of human kind. And so Raoul d'Audierne--the man whose power in the
+world is like that of the fires burning within the crust of the earth,
+unseen, immeasurable--and so he took his hat, and left the little room
+behind the tobacconist's shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe--beaten,
+frustrated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+
+
+"Money," Captain Lebrun was saying emphatically, as the _Agnes and
+Mary_ drifted slowly past Gravesend pier on the rising tide. "Hang
+money! Now, I should think that you make as much of it in a month as I
+do in a year. You're a young man, and as far as I know ye, ye're a
+successful one. Life spreads out before you like a clean chart. I'm an
+old 'un--my time is nearly up. I've lived what landsmen call a hard
+life, and now I'm slowly goin' home. Ay, Mr. Vellacott, goin' home! And
+you think that with all your manifold advantages you're a happier man
+than me. Not a bit of it! And why? 'Cause you belong to a generation
+that looks so far ahead that it's afraid of bein' happy, just for fear
+there's sorrow a comin'. Money, and lookin' ahead, that's what spoils
+yer lives nowadays."
+
+The skipper emphasised these weighty observations by expectorating
+decisively into the water, and walked away, leaving Christian Vellacott
+with a vaguely amused smile upon his face. It is just possible that
+Silas Lebrun, master and owner of the _Agnes and Mary_, was nearer
+the mark than he thought.
+
+An hour later, Vellacott was walking along the deserted embankment above
+Westminster, on the Chelsea side of the river. It was nine o'clock, for
+which fact Big Ben solemnly gave his word, far up in the fog. The
+morning was very dark, and the street lamps were still alight, while
+every window sent forth a gleam suggestive of early autumnal fires.
+
+Turning up his own street he increased his pace, realising suddenly that
+he had not been within his own doors for more than four months. Much
+might have happened in that time--to change his life, perhaps. As he
+approached the house he saw a strange servant, an elderly woman, on her
+knees at the steps, and somehow the sight conveyed to his mind the
+thought that there was something waiting for him within that peaceful
+little house. He almost ran those last few yards, and sprang up the
+steps past the astonished woman without a word of explanation.
+
+The gas in the narrow entrance-hall was lighted, and as he threw aside
+his cap he perceived a warm gleam of firelight through the half-open
+door of the dining-room. He crossed the carpeted hall, and pushed open
+that door.
+
+Near the little breakfast-table, just under the gas, stood Hilda Carew.
+In _his_ room, standing among _his_ multifarious possessions,
+in the act of pouring from _his_ coffee-pot. She was dressed in
+black--he noticed that. Instead of being arranged high upon her head,
+her marvellous hair hung in one massive plait down her back. She looked
+like a tall and beautiful school-girl. He had not seen her hair like
+that since the old days when he had been as one of the Carews.
+
+As he pushed open the door, she looked up; and for a moment they stood
+thus. She set down the coffee-pot, carefully and symmetrically, in the
+centre of the china stand provided for its reception--and the colour
+slowly left her face.
+
+"You have come back at last!" she said quite monotonously. It sounded
+like a remark made for the purpose of filling up an awkward silence.
+
+Then he entered the room, and mechanically closed the door behind him.
+She noticed the action, but did not move. He passed round the table,
+behind Aunt Judy's chair, and they shook hands conventionally.
+
+"Yes," he said almost breathlessly; "I am back; you do not seem elated
+by the fact."
+
+Suddenly she smiled--the smile that suggested, in some subtle way, a
+kitten.
+
+"Of course--I am glad ... to see you."
+
+In a peculiar dreamy way she began to add milk to the coffee. It seemed
+as if this were mere play-acting, and not real life at all.
+
+"How is it that you are here?" he asked, with a broken, disjointed
+laugh. "You cannot imagine how strange an effect it was ... for me ...
+to come in and see you ... here--of all people."
+
+She looked at him gravely, and moved a step towards him.
+
+"Aunt Judy is dead!" she explained; "and Aunt Hester is very ill. Mother
+is upstairs with them--_her_--now. I have just come from the room,
+where I have been since midnight."
+
+She stopped, raised her hand to her hair as if recollecting something,
+and stood looking sideways out of the window.
+
+"There is something about you this morning," he said, with a
+concentrated deliberation, "that brings back the old Prague days. I
+suppose it is that I have not seen your hair as you have it
+to-day--since then."
+
+She turned quite away from his hungry gaze, looking out of the window.
+
+After a pause she broke the silence--with infinite tact--not speaking
+too hurriedly.
+
+"It has been a terrible week," she said. "Mother heard from Mr. Bodery
+that they were very ill; so we came. I never dreamt that it was so bad
+when you spoke of them. Five years it has been going on?"
+
+"Yes; five years. Thank you for coming, but I am sorry you should have
+seen it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Every one should keep guard over his own skeleton."
+
+She was looking at him now.
+
+"You look very ill," she said curtly. "Where have you been?"
+
+"I was kidnapped," he said, with a short laugh, "and then I got typhoid.
+The monks nursed me."
+
+"You were in a monastery?"
+
+"Yes; in Brittany."
+
+She was idly arranging the cups and saucers with her left hand, which
+she seemed desirous of bringing under his notice; but he could look at
+nothing but her face.
+
+"Then," she said, "it would have been impossible to find you?"
+
+"Quite," he replied, and after a pause he added, in a singularly easy
+manner, "Tell me what happened after I disappeared."
+
+She did not seem to like the task.
+
+"Well--we searched--oh! Christian, it was horrid!"
+
+"I wondered," he said, in a deep, soft voice, "whether you would find it
+so."
+
+"Yes, of course, we _all_ did."
+
+This did not appear to satisfy him.
+
+"But you," he persisted, "you, yourself--what did you think?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered, with painful hesitation. "I don't think I
+thought at all."
+
+"Then what did you do, Hilda?"
+
+"I--oh, we searched. We telegraphed for Mr. Bodery, who came down at
+once. Then Fred rode over, and placed himself at Mr. Bodery's disposal.
+First he went to Paris, then to Brest. He did everything that could be
+done, but of course it was of no avail. By Mr. Bodery's advice
+everything was kept secret. There was nothing in the newspapers."
+
+She stopped suddenly, and there was a silence in the room. He was
+looking at her curiously, still ignoring that little left hand. Only one
+word of her speech seemed to have attached itself to his understanding.
+
+"Fred?" he said. "Fred Farrar?"
+
+"Yes--my husband!"
+
+He turned away--walked towards the door, and then returned to the
+hearthrug, where he stood quite still.
+
+"I suppose it was a quiet wedding," he said in a hard voice, "on my
+account; eh?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered. He waited, but she added nothing.
+
+Then suddenly he laughed.
+
+"I have made a most extraordinary mistake!" he said, and again laughed.
+
+"Oh, don't" she exclaimed.
+
+"Don't what?"
+
+"Laugh."
+
+He came nearer to her--quite near, until his sleeve almost touched her
+bowed head.
+
+"I thought--at St. Mary Western--that you loved _me_."
+
+She seemed to shrink away from him.
+
+"What made me think so, Hilda?"
+
+She raised her head, and her eyes flashed one momentary appeal for
+mercy--like the eyes of a whipped dog.
+
+"Tell me," he said sternly.
+
+"It was," she whispered, "because _I_ thought so myself."
+
+"And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?"
+
+"Yes; he was so kind, so _brave_, Christian--because he knew of my
+mistake."
+
+Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the
+window.
+
+"Well," he said, after a pause, "so long as you do not suffer by it--"
+
+"Oh--h," she gasped, as if he were whipping her. She did not quite know
+what he meant. She does not know now.
+
+At last he spoke again, slowly, deliberately, and without emotion.
+
+"Some day," he said, "when you are older, when you have more experience
+of the world, you will probably fall into the habit of thanking God, in
+your prayers, that I am what I am. It is not because I am good ...
+perhaps it is because I am ambitious--my father, you may remember, was
+considered heartless; it may be _that_. But if I were different--if
+I were passionate instead of being what the world calls cold and
+calculating--you would be ... your life would be--" he stopped, and
+turning away he sat down wearily in Aunt Judy's armchair. "You will
+know some day!" he said.
+
+It is probable that she does know now. She knows, in all likelihood,
+that her husband would have been powerless to save her from Christian
+Vellacott--from herself--from that Love wherein there are no roses but
+only thorns.
+
+And in the room above them Aunt Hester was dying. So wags the world.
+There is no attention paid to the laws of dramatic effect upon the stage
+of life. The scenes are produced without sequence, without apparent
+rhyme or reason; and Chance, the scene-shifter, is very careless, for
+comedies are enacted amid scenic effects calculated to show off to
+perfection the deepest tragedy, while tragedies are spoilt by their
+surroundings.
+
+The doctor and Mrs. Carew stood at the bedside, and listened to the old
+woman's broken murmurings. Into her mind there had perhaps strayed a
+gleam of that Light which is not on the earth, for she was not abusing
+her great-nephew.
+
+"Ah, Christian," she was murmuring, "I wish you would come. I want to
+thank you for your kindness, more especially to Aunt Judy. She is old,
+and we must make allowances. I know she is aggravating. It happened long
+ago, when your father was a little boy--but it altered her whole life. I
+think women are like that. There is something that only comes to them
+once. I am feeling far from well, nephew Vellacott. I think I should
+like to see a doctor. What does Aunt Judy think? Is she asleep?"
+
+She turned her head to where she expected to find her sister, and in the
+act of turning her eyes closed. She slumbered peacefully. The two
+sisters had slept together for seventy years--seventy long, monotonous
+years, in which there had been no incident, no great joy, no deep
+sorrow--years lost. Except for the natural growth and slow decay of
+their frames, they had remained stationary, while around them children
+had grown into men and women and had passed away.
+
+Presently Aunt Hester opened her eyes, and they rested on the vacant
+pillow at her side. After a pause she slowly turned her head, and fixed
+her gaze upon the doctor's face. He thought that the power of speech had
+left her, but suddenly she spoke, quite clearly.
+
+"Where is my sister Judith?" she asked.
+
+There are times when the truth must be spoken, though it kill.
+
+"Your sister died yesterday," replied the doctor.
+
+Aunt Hester lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. Her shrivelled
+fingers were picking at the counter-pane. Then a gleam of intelligence
+passed across her face.
+
+"And now," she said, "I shall have a bed to myself. I have waited long
+enough."
+
+Aunt Hester was very human, although the shadow of an angel's wing lay
+across her bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was many years later that Christian Vellacott found himself in the
+presence of the Angel of Death again. A telegram from Havre was one day
+handed to him in the room at the back of the tall house in the Strand,
+and the result was that he crossed from Southampton to Havre that same
+night.
+
+As the sun rose over the sea the next morning, its earliest rays glanced
+gaily through the open port-hole of a cabin in a large ocean steamer,
+still panting from her struggle through tepid Eastern seas.
+
+In this little cabin lay the Jesuit missionary, Rene Drucquer, watching
+the moving reflections of the water, which played ceaselessly on the
+painted ceiling overhead. He had been sent home from India by a
+kind-hearted army surgeon; a doomed man, stricken by a climatic disease
+in which there was neither hope nor hurry. When the steamer arrived in
+the Seine it was found expedient to let the young missionary die where
+he lay. The local agent of the Society of Jesus was a kind-hearted man,
+and therefore a faithless servant. He acceded to Rene Drucquer's prayer
+to telegraph for Christian Vellacott.
+
+And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered
+the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed.
+
+"Ah, you have come," said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of
+pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he
+spoke.
+
+"But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder? And hard--yes, hard as
+steel."
+
+"Oh no," replied Vellacott. "It may be that the hardness that was once
+there shows now upon my face--that is all."
+
+The Frenchman looked lovingly at him, with eyes like the eyes of a
+woman.
+
+"And now you are a great man, they tell me."
+
+Vellacott shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In my way," he admitted. "And you?"
+
+"I--I have taught."
+
+"Ah! and has it been a success?"
+
+"In teaching I have learnt."
+
+Vellacott merely nodded his head.
+
+"Do you know why I sent for you?" continued the missionary.
+
+"No."
+
+"I sent for you in order to tell you that I burnt that letter at
+Audierne."
+
+"I came to that conclusion, for it never arrived."
+
+"I want you to forgive me."
+
+Vellacott laughed.
+
+"I never thought of it again," he replied heartily.
+
+The priest was looking keenly at him.
+
+"I did not say 'thou,' but '_you_,'" he persisted gently.
+
+Vellacott's glance wavered; he raised his head, and looked out of the
+open port-hole across the glassy waters of the river.
+
+"What do you mean?" he inquired.
+
+"I thought," said Rene Drucquer, "there might be some one else--some
+woman--who was waiting for news."
+
+After a little pause the journalist replied.
+
+"My dear Abbe," he said, "there is no woman in the whole world who wants
+news of me. And the result is, as you kindly say, I am a great man
+now--in my way."
+
+But he knew that he might have been a greater.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
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diff --git a/9195.zip b/9195.zip
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+eBook #9195 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9195)
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Slave of the Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
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+  <body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Slave Of The Lamp, by Henry Seton Merriman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Slave Of The Lamp
+
+Author: Henry Seton Merriman
+
+
+Release Date: October, 2005  [EBook #9195]
+This file was first posted on September 14, 2003
+Last Updated: March 12, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Jonathan Ingram, Véronique Durand, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Henry Seton Merriman
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. TOOLS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. WITHOUT REST </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. BURDENED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. A REUNION </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROKEN THREADS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. PUPPETS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. FALSE METAL </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. A CLUE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. ON THE SCENT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. BURY BLUFF </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. A WARNING WORD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT WATCH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. FOILED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. BOOKS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. FOES </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. A RETREAT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. FOUL PLAY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. WINGED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. GREEK AND GREEK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. BACK TO LIFE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. BACK TO WORK </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, &ldquo;Young Mistley,&rdquo; in 1888,
+      when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his
+      critique on the book, spoke of its &ldquo;powerful situations&rdquo; and
+      unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater length
+      on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right faults,
+      and added that, if &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; was not in itself a good novel, its
+      author was one who might hereafter certainly write good novels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; was followed in quick succession by &ldquo;The Phantom Future,&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;Suspense,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Prisoners and Captives.&rdquo; Some years later, considering
+      them crude and immature works, the author, at some difficulty and with no
+      little pecuniary loss, withdrew all these four first books from
+      circulation in England. Their republication in America he was powerless to
+      prevent. He therefore revised and abbreviated them, &ldquo;conscious,&rdquo; as he
+      said himself in a preface, &ldquo;of a hundred defects which the most careful
+      revision cannot eliminate.&rdquo; He was perhaps then, as he was ever, too
+      severe a critic of his own works. But though these four early books have,
+      added to youthful failings, the youthful merits of freshness, vigour and
+      imagination, their author was undoubtedly right to suppress them. By
+      writing them he learnt, it is true, the technique of his art: but no
+      author wishes&mdash;or no author should wish&mdash;to give his copy-books
+      to the world. It is as well then&mdash;it is certainly as he himself
+      desired&mdash;that these four books do not form part of the present
+      edition. It may, however, be noted that both &ldquo;Young Mistley&rdquo; and
+      &ldquo;Prisoners and Captives&rdquo; dealt, as did &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; hereafter, with
+      Russian subjects: &ldquo;Suspense&rdquo; is the story of a war-correspondent in the
+      Russo-Turkish War of 1877: and &ldquo;The Phantom Future&rdquo; is the only novel of
+      Merriman's in which the scene is laid entirely in his own country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In 1892 he produced &ldquo;The Slave of the Lamp,&rdquo; which had run serially
+      through the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, then under the editorship of Mr.
+      James Payn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Mr. Payn, Merriman always felt that he owed a debt of gratitude for
+      much shrewd and kindly advice and encouragement. But one item of that
+      advice he neglected with, as Mr. Payn always generously owned, great
+      advantage. Mr. Payn believed that the insular nature of the ordinary
+      Briton made it, as a general rule, highly undesirable that the scene of
+      any novel should be laid outside the British Isles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After 1892 all Merriman's books, with the single exception of &ldquo;Flotsam,&rdquo;
+       which appeared serially in <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, and was, at first,
+      produced in book form by Messrs. Longman, were published by the firm of
+      Messrs. Smith, Elder, &amp; Co.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His long and serene connection with the great and honourable house which
+      had produced the works of such masters of literature as Thackeray,
+      Charlotte Bronte, and Robert Browning, was always a source of sincere
+      pleasure to him. He often expressed the opinion that, from the moment
+      when, as an inexperienced and perfectly unknown author, he sent &ldquo;Young
+      Mistley&rdquo; to Messrs. Bentley, until the time when, as a very successful
+      one, he was publishing his later novels with Messrs. Smith, Elder, he had
+      invariably received from his publishers an entirely just and upright
+      treatment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Also in 1892 he produced &ldquo;From One Generation to Another&rdquo;: and, two years
+      later, the first of his really successful novels, &ldquo;With Edged Tools.&rdquo; It
+      is the only one of his books of which he never visited the <i>mise-en-scène</i>&mdash;West
+      Africa: but he had so completely imbued himself with the scenery and the
+      spirit of the country that few, if any, of his critics detected that he
+      did not write of it from personal experience. Many of his readers were
+      firmly convinced of the reality of the precious plant, Simiacine, on whose
+      discovery the action of the plot turns. More than one correspondent wrote
+      to express a wish to take shares in the Simiacine Company!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Edged Tools&rdquo; was closely followed by &ldquo;The Grey Lady.&rdquo; Some practical
+      experience of a seafaring life, a strong love of it, and a great
+      fellow-feeling for all those whose business is in great waters, helped the
+      reality of the characters of the sailor brothers and of the sea-scenes
+      generally. The author was for some years, and at the time &ldquo;The Grey Lady&rdquo;
+       was written, an underwriter at Lloyd's, so that on the subject of ship
+      insurance&mdash;a subject on which it will be remembered part of the plot
+      hinges&mdash;he was <i>en pays de connaissance</i>. For the purpose of
+      this story, he travelled in the Balearic Islands, having, earlier, made
+      the first of many visits to Spain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the strongest characteristics in his nature, as it is certainly one
+      of the strongest characteristics in his books, was his sympathy with, and,
+      in consequence, his understanding of, the mind of the foreigner. For him,
+      indeed, there were no alien countries. He learnt the character of the
+      stranger as quickly as he learnt his language. His greatest delight was to
+      merge himself completely in the life and interests of the country he was
+      visiting&mdash;to stay at the mean <i>venta</i>, or the <i>auberge</i>
+      where the tourist was never seen&mdash;to sit in the local cafés of an
+      evening and listen to local politics and gossip; to read for the time
+      nothing but the native newspapers, and no literature but the literature,
+      past and present, of the land where he was sojourning; to follow the
+      native customs, and to see Spain, Poland or Russia with the eyes and from
+      the point of view of the Spaniard, the Pole or the Russian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The difficulties&mdash;sometimes there were even serious difficulties&mdash;of
+      visiting places where there was neither provision nor protection made for
+      the stranger, always acted upon him not as deterrent but incentive: he
+      liked something to overcome, and found the safe, comfortable, convenient
+      resting-places as uncongenial to his nature as they were unproductive for
+      the purposes of his work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In 1896 &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; was published. Merriman's travels in Russia had taken
+      place some years before&mdash;before, in fact, the publication of &ldquo;Young
+      Mistley&rdquo;&mdash;but time had not at all weakened the strong and sombre
+      impression which that great country and its unhappy people had left upon
+      him. The most popular of all his books with his English public, Merriman
+      himself did not consider it his best. It early received the compliment of
+      being banned by the Russian censor: very recently, a Russian woman told
+      the present writers that &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; is still the first book the
+      travelling Russian buys in the Tauchnitz edition, as soon as he is out of
+      his own country&mdash;&ldquo;we like to hear the truth about ourselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the same year as &ldquo;The Sowers,&rdquo; Merriman produced &ldquo;Flotsam.&rdquo; It is not,
+      strictly speaking, a romance: some of its main incidents were taken from
+      the life of a young officer of the 44th Regiment in Early Victorian days.
+      The character of Harry Wylam is, as a whole, faithful to its prototype;
+      and the last scene in the book, recording Harry's death in the Orange Free
+      State, as he was being taken in a waggon to the missionary station by the
+      Bishop of the State, is literally accurate. Merriman had visited India as
+      a boy; so here, too, the scenery is from the brush of an eye-witness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His next novel, &ldquo;In Kedar's Tents,&rdquo; was his first Spanish novel&mdash;pure
+      and simple: the action of &ldquo;The Grey Lady&rdquo; taking place chiefly in Majorca.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the country mentioned in &ldquo;In Kedar's Tents&rdquo; Merriman visited
+      personally&mdash;riding, as did Frederick Conyngham and Concepcion Vara,
+      from Algeciras to Ronda, then a difficult ride through a wild, beautiful
+      and not too safe district, the accommodation at Algeciras and Ronda being
+      at that time of an entirely primitive description. Spain had for Merriman
+      ever a peculiar attraction: the character of the Spanish gentleman&mdash;proud,
+      courteous, dignified&mdash;particularly appealed to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next country in which he sought inspiration was Holland. &ldquo;Roden's
+      Corner,&rdquo; published in 1898, broke new ground: its plot, it will be
+      remembered, turns on a commercial enterprise. The title and the main idea
+      of the story were taken from Merriman's earliest literary venture, the
+      beginning of a novel&mdash;there were only a few chapters of it&mdash;which
+      he had written before &ldquo;Young Mistley,&rdquo; and which he had discarded,
+      dissatisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The novel &ldquo;Dross&rdquo; was produced in America in 1899, having appeared
+      serially in this country in a well-known newspaper. Written during a
+      period of ill-health, Merriman thought it beneath his best work, and, true
+      to that principle which ruled his life as an author, to give to the public
+      so far as he could of that best, and of that best only, he declined (of
+      course to his own monetary disadvantage) to permit its publication in
+      England in book form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Its <i>mise-en-scène</i> is France and Suffolk; its period the Second
+      Empire&mdash;the period of &ldquo;The Last Hope.&rdquo; Napoleon III., a character by
+      whom Merriman was always peculiarly attracted, shadows it: in it appears
+      John Turner, the English banker of Paris, of &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo;; an admirable
+      and amusing sketch of a young Frenchman; and an excellent description of
+      the magnificent scenery about Saint Martin Lantosque, in the Maritime
+      Alps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the benefit of &ldquo;The Isle of Unrest,&rdquo; his next book, Merriman had
+      travelled through Corsica&mdash;not the Corsica of fashionable hotels and
+      health-resorts, but the wild and unknown parts of that lawless and
+      magnificent island. For &ldquo;The Velvet Glove&rdquo; he visited Pampeluna,
+      Saragossa, and Lerida. The country of &ldquo;The Vultures&rdquo;&mdash;Warsaw and its
+      neighbourhood&mdash;he saw in company with his friend, Mr. Stanley Weyman.
+      The pleasure of another trip, the one he took in western France&mdash;Angoulême,
+      Cognac, and the country of the Charente&mdash;for the scenery of &ldquo;The Last
+      Hope,&rdquo; was also doubled by Mr. Weyman's presence. In Dantzig&mdash;the
+      Dantzig of &ldquo;Barlasch of the Guard&rdquo;&mdash;Merriman made a stay in a bitter
+      mid-winter, visiting also Vilna and Königsberg; part of the route of the
+      Great Retreat from Moscow he traced himself. He was inclined to consider&mdash;and
+      if an author is not quite the worst judge of his own work he is generally
+      quite the best&mdash;that in &ldquo;Barlasch&rdquo; he reached his high-water mark.
+      The short stories, comprised in the volume entitled &ldquo;Tomaso's Fortune,&rdquo;
+       were published after his death. In every case, the <i>locale</i> they
+      describe was known to Merriman personally. At the Monastery of Montserrat&mdash;whence
+      the monk in &ldquo;A Small World&rdquo; saw the accident to the diligencia&mdash;the
+      author had made a stay of some days. The Farlingford of &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo; is
+      Orford in Suffolk: the French scenes, as has been said, Merriman had
+      visited with Mr. Weyman, whose &ldquo;Abbess of Vlaye&rdquo; they also suggested. The
+      curious may still find the original of the Hôtel Gemosac in Paris&mdash;not
+      far from the Palais d'Orsay Hôtel&mdash;&ldquo;between the Rue de Lille and the
+      Boulevard St. Germain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Last Hope&rdquo; was not, in a sense, Merriman's last novel. He left at his
+      death about a dozen completed chapters, and the whole plot carefully
+      mapped out, of yet another Spanish book, which dealt with the Spain of the
+      Peninsular War of 1808-14. These chapters, which were destroyed by the
+      author's desire, were of excellent promise, and written with great vigour
+      and spirit. His last trip was taken, in connection with this book, to the
+      country of Sir Arthur Wellesley's exploits. The plot of the story was
+      concerned with a case of mistaken identity; the sketch of a Guerilla
+      leader, Pedro&mdash;bearing some affinity to the Concepcion Vara of &ldquo;In
+      Kedar's Tents&rdquo;&mdash;was especially happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been seen that Merriman was not the class of author who &ldquo;sits in
+      Fleet Street and writes news from the front.&rdquo; He strongly believed in the
+      value of personal impressions, and scarcely less in the value of first
+      impressions. In his own case, the correctness of his first impressions&mdash;what
+      he himself called laughingly his <i>&ldquo;coup d'oeil&rdquo;</i>&mdash;is in a
+      measure proved by a note-book, now lying before the writers, in which he
+      recorded his views of Bastia and the Corsicans after a very brief
+      acquaintance&mdash;that view requiring scarcely any modification when
+      first impressions had been exchanged for real knowledge and experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As to his methods of writing, in the case of all his novels, except the
+      four early suppressed ones, he invariably followed the plan of drawing out
+      the whole plot and a complete synopsis of every chapter before he began to
+      write the book at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Partly as a result of this plan perhaps, but more as a result of great
+      natural facility in writing, his manuscripts were often without a single
+      erasure for many pages; and a typewriter was really a superfluity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is certainly true to say that no author ever had more pleasure in his
+      art than Merriman. The fever and the worry which accompany many literary
+      productions he never knew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among the professional critics he had neither personal friends nor
+      personal foes; and accepted their criticisms&mdash;hostile or favourable&mdash;with
+      perfect serenity and open-mindedness. He was, perhaps, if anything, only
+      too ready to alter his work in accordance with their advice: he always
+      said that he owed them much; and admired their perspicuity in detecting a
+      promise in his earliest books, which he denied finding there himself. His
+      invincible modesty made him ready to accept not only professional
+      criticism but&mdash;a harder thing&mdash;the advice of critics on the
+      hearth. It was out of compliance with such a domestic criticism that the
+      <i>dénouement</i> in &ldquo;The Sowers&rdquo; was re-written as it now stands, the
+      scene of the attack on the Castle being at first wholly different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The jealousy and bitterness which are supposed to be inseparable from the
+      literary life certainly never affected Merriman's. He had no trace of such
+      feelings in his nature. Of one who is known to the public exclusively
+      through his writings, it may seem strange&mdash;but it is not the less
+      true&mdash;to say that his natural bent was not to the life of a literary
+      man, but to a life of action, and that it was fate, rather than
+      inclination, which made him express himself in words instead of deeds. A
+      writer's books are generally his best biography: the &ldquo;strong, quiet man,&rdquo;
+       whose forte was to do much and say nothing; who, like Marcos Sarrion,
+      loved the free and plain life of the field and the open, was a natural
+      hero for Merriman, &ldquo;as finding there unconsciously some image of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To any other biography he was strongly opposed. His dislike of the
+      advertisement and the self-advertisement of the interview and the personal
+      paragraph deepened with time. He held strongly and consistently, as he
+      held all his opinions, that a writer should be known to the public by his
+      books, and by his books only. One of his last expressed wishes was that
+      there should be no record of his private life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is respect for that wish which here stays the present writers' pen.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      E.F.S.
+    </h3>
+    <h3>
+      S.G.T.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <i>July</i> 1909.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was, not so many years ago, called the Rue de l'Empire, but republics
+      are proverbially sensitive. Once they are established they become morbidly
+      desirous of obliterating a past wherein no republic flourished. The street
+      is therefore dedicated to St. Gingolphe to-day. To-morrow? Who can tell?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is presumably safe to take it for granted that you are located in the
+      neighbourhood of the Louvre, on the north side of the river which is so
+      unimportant a factor to Paris. For all good Englishmen have been, or hope
+      in the near future to be, located near this spot. All good Americans, we
+      are told, relegate the sojourn to a more distant future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bridge to cross is that of the Holy Fathers. So called to-day. Once
+      upon a time&mdash;but no matter. Bridges are peculiarly liable to change
+      in troubled times. The Rue St. Gingolphe is situated between the Boulevard
+      St. Germain and Quai Voltaire. One hears with equal facility the low-toned
+      boom of the steamers' whistle upon the river, and the crack of whips in
+      the boulevard. Once across the bridge, turn to the right, and go along the
+      Quay, between the lime-trees and the bookstalls. You will probably go
+      slowly because of the bookstalls. No one worth talking to could help doing
+      so. Then turn to the left, and after a few paces you will find upon your
+      right hand the Rue St. Gingolphe. It is noted in the Directory &ldquo;Botot&rdquo;
+       that this street is one hundred and forty-five mètres long; and who would
+      care to contradict &ldquo;Botot,&rdquo; or even to throw the faintest shadow of a
+      doubt upon his statement? He has probably measured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If your fair and economical spouse should think of repairing to the
+      Bon-Marché to secure some of those wonderful linen pillow-cases (at one
+      franc forty) with your august initial embroidered on the centre with a
+      view of impressing the sleeper's cheek, she will pass the end of the Rue
+      St. Gingolphe on her way&mdash;provided the cabman be honest. There! You
+      cannot help finding it now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The street itself is a typical Parisian street of one hundred and
+      forty-five mètres. There is room for a baker's, a café, a bootmaker's, and
+      a tobacconist who sells very few stamps. The Parisians do not write many
+      letters. They say they have not time. But the tobacconist makes up for the
+      meanness of his contribution to the inland revenue of one department by a
+      generous aid to the other. He sells a vast number of cigarettes and cigars
+      of the very worst quality. And it is upon the worst quality that the
+      Government makes the largest profit. It is in every sense of the word a
+      weed which grows as lustily as any of its compeers in and around Oran,
+      Algiers, and Bonah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rue St. Gingolphe is within a stone's-throw of the École des
+      Beaux-Arts, and in the very centre of a remarkably cheap and yet
+      respectable quarter. Thus there are many young men occupying apartments in
+      close proximity&mdash;and young men do not mind much what they smoke,
+      especially provincial young men living in Paris. They feel it incumbent
+      upon them to be constantly smoking something&mdash;just to show that they
+      are Parisians, true sons of the pavement, knowing how to live. And their
+      brightest hopes are in all truth realised, because theirs is certainly a
+      reckless life, flavoured as it is with &ldquo;number one&rdquo; tobacco, and those
+      &ldquo;little corporal&rdquo; cigarettes which are enveloped in the blue paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist's shop is singularly convenient. It has, namely, an
+      entrance at the back, as well as that giving on to the street of St.
+      Gingolphe. This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the
+      stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perinère, a lady who paints
+      the magic word &ldquo;Modes&rdquo; beneath her name on the door-post of number
+      seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her bonnets
+      to the farthest corner of Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist is a large man, much given to perspiration. In fact, one
+      may safely make the statement that he perspires annually from the middle
+      of April to the second or even third week in October. In consequence of
+      this habit he wears no collar, and a man without a collar does not start
+      fairly on the social race. It is always best to make inquiries before
+      condemning a man who wears no collar. There is probably a very good
+      reason, as in the case of Mr. Jacquetot, but it is to be feared that few
+      pause to seek it. One need not seek the reason with much assiduity in this
+      instance, because the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe is always
+      prepared to explain it at length. French people are thus. They talk of
+      things, and take pleasure in so doing, which we, on this side of the
+      Channel, treat with a larger discretion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Jacquetot does not even wear a collar on Sunday, for the simple reason
+      that Sunday is to him as other days. He attends no place of worship,
+      because he acknowledges but one god&mdash;the god of most Frenchmen&mdash;his
+      inner man. His pleasures are gastronomical, his sorrows stomachic. The
+      little shop is open early and late, Sundays, week-days, and holidays.
+      Moreover, the tobacconist&mdash;Mr. Jacquetot himself&mdash;is always at
+      his post, on the high chair behind the counter, near the window, where he
+      can see into the street. This constant attention to business is almost
+      phenomenal, because Frenchmen who worship the god of Mr. Jacquetot love to
+      pay tribute on fête-days at one of the little restaurants on the Place at
+      Versailles, at Duval's, or even in the Palais Royal. Mr. Jacquetot would
+      have loved nothing better than a pilgrimage to any one of these shrines,
+      but he was tied to the little tobacco store. Not by the chains of
+      commerce. Oh, no! When rallied by his neighbours for such an
+      unenterprising love of his own hearth, he merely shrugged his heavy
+      shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you?&rdquo; he would say; &ldquo;one has one's affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now the affairs of Mr. Jacquetot were, in the days with which we have to
+      do, like many things on this earth, inasmuch as they were not what they
+      seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would be inexpedient, for reasons closely connected with the
+      tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, as well as with other gentlemen
+      still happily with us in the flesh, to be too exact as to dates. Suffice
+      it, therefore, to say that it was only a few years ago that Mr. Jacquetot
+      sat one evening as usual in his little shop. It happened to be a Tuesday
+      evening, which is fortunate, because it was on Tuesdays and Saturdays that
+      the little barber from round the corner called and shaved the vast cheeks
+      of the tobacconist. Mr. Jacquetot was therefore quite presentable&mdash;doubly
+      so, indeed, because it was yet March, and he had not yet entered upon his
+      summer season.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little street was very quiet. There was no through traffic, and folks
+      living in this quarter of Paris usually carry their own parcels. It was
+      thus quite easy to note the approach of any passenger, when such had once
+      turned the corner. Some one was approaching now, and Mr. Jacquetot threw
+      away the stump of a cheap cigar. One would almost have said that he
+      recognised the step at a considerable distance. Young people are in the
+      habit of considering that when one gets old and stout one loses in
+      intelligence; but this is not always the case. One is apt to expect little
+      from a fat man; but that is often a mistake. Mr. Jacquetot weighed
+      seventeen stone, but he was eminently intelligent. He had recognised the
+      footstep while it was yet seventy mètres away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments a gentleman of middle height paused in front of the shop,
+      noted that it was a tobacconist's, and entered, carrying an unstamped
+      letter with some ostentation. It must, by the way, be remembered that in
+      France postage-stamps are to be bought at all tobacconists'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer's actions were characterised by a certain carelessness, as
+      if he were going through a formula&mdash;perfunctorily&mdash;without
+      admitting its necessity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded to Mr. Jacquetot, and rather a pleasant smile flickered for a
+      moment across his face. He was a singularly well-made man, of medium
+      height, with straight, square shoulders and small limbs. He wore
+      spectacles, and as he looked at one straight in the face there was a
+      singular contraction of the eyes which hardly amounted to a cast&mdash;moreover,
+      it was momentary. It was precisely the look of a hawk when its hood is
+      suddenly removed in full daylight. This resemblance was furthered by the
+      fact that the man's profile was birdlike. He was clean-shaven, and there
+      was in his sleek head and determined little face that smooth, compact
+      self-complacency which is to be noted in the head of a hawk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The face was small, like that of a Greek bust, but in expression it
+      suggested a yet older people. There was that mystic depth of expression
+      which comes from ancient Egypt. No one feature was obtrusive&mdash;all
+      were chiselled with equal delicacy; and yet there was only one point of
+      real beauty in the entire countenance. The mouth was perfect. But the man
+      with a perfect mouth is usually one whom it will be found expedient to
+      avoid. Without a certain allowance of sensuality no man is genial&mdash;without
+      a little weakness there is no kind heart. This Frenchman's mouth was not,
+      however, obtrusively faultless. It was perfect in its design, but,
+      somehow, many people failed to take note of the fact. It is so with the
+      &ldquo;many,&rdquo; one finds. The human world is so blind that at times it would be
+      almost excusable to harbour the suspicion that animals see more. There may
+      be something in that instinct by which dogs, horses, and cats distinguish
+      between friends and foes, detect sympathy, discover antipathy. It is
+      possible that they see things in the human face to which our eyes are
+      blinded&mdash;intentionally and mercifully blinded. If some of us were a
+      little more observant, a few of the human combinations which we bring
+      about might perhaps be less egregiously mistaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was probably the form of the lips that lent pleasantness to the smile
+      with which Mr. Jacquetot was greeted, rather than the expression of the
+      velvety eyes, which had in reality no power of smiling at all. They were
+      sad eyes, like those of the women one sees on the banks of the Upper Nile,
+      which never alter in expression&mdash;eyes that do not seem to be busy
+      with this life at all, but fully occupied with something else: something
+      beyond to-morrow or behind yesterday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived?&rdquo; inquired the new-comer in a voice of some distinction.
+      It was a full, rich voice, and the French it spoke was not the French of
+      Mr. Jacquetot, nor, indeed, of the Rue St. Gingolphe. It was the language
+      one sometimes hears in an old <i>château</i> lost in the depths of the
+      country&mdash;the vast unexplored rural districts of France&mdash;where
+      the bearers of dangerously historical names live out their lives with a
+      singular suppression and patience. They are either biding their time or
+      else they are content with the past and the part played by their ancestors
+      therein. For there is an old French and a new. In Paris the new is spoken&mdash;the
+      very newest. Were it anything but French it would be intolerably vulgar;
+      as it is, it is merely neat and intensely expressive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived, sir,&rdquo; said the tobacconist, and then he seemed to
+      recollect himself, for he repeated:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet arrived,&rdquo; without the respectful addition which had slipped out
+      by accident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new arrival took out his watch&mdash;a small one of beautiful
+      workmanship, the watch of a lady&mdash;and consulted it. His movements
+      were compact and rapid. He would have made a splendid light-weight boxer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said shortly, &ldquo;is the way they fail. They do not understand the
+      necessity of exactitude. The people&mdash;see you, Mr. Jacquetot, they
+      fail because they have no exactitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am of the people,&rdquo; moving ponderously on his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Essentially so. I know it, my friend. But I have taught you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so. But is it safe to stand there in the full day? Will you not
+      pass in? The room is ready; the lamp is lighted. There is an agent of the
+      police always at the end of the street now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, bah!&rdquo; and he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. &ldquo;I am not afraid
+      of them. There is only one thing to be feared, Citizen Jacquetot&mdash;the
+      press. The press and the people, <i>bien entendu</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you despise the people why do you use them?&rdquo; asked Jacquetot abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In default of better, my friend. If one has not steam one uses the river
+      to turn the mill-wheel. The river is slow; sometimes it is too weak,
+      sometimes too strong. One never has full control over it, but it turns the
+      wheel&mdash;it turns the wheel, brother Jacquetot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And eventually sweeps away the miller,&rdquo; suggested the tobacconist
+      lightly. It must be remembered that though stout he was intelligent. Had
+      he not been so it is probable that this conversation would never have
+      taken place. The dark-eyed man did not look like one who would have the
+      patience to deal with stupid people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the pleasant smile flickered like the light of a fire in a dark
+      place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;is the affair of the miller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; conceded Jacquetot, meditatively selecting a new cigar from a box
+      which he had reached without moving from his chair, &ldquo;but the people&mdash;they
+      are fools, hein!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; with a protesting shrug, as if deprecating the enunciation of such a
+      platitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he passed through into a little room behind the shop&mdash;a little
+      room where no daylight penetrated, because there was no window to it. It
+      depended for daylight upon the shop, with which it communicated by a door
+      of which the upper half was glass. But this glass was thickly curtained
+      with the material called Turkey-red, threefold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the tobacconist was left alone in his shop, smoking gravely. There are
+      some people like oysters, inasmuch as they leave an after-taste behind
+      them. The man who had just gone into the little room at the rear of the
+      tobacconist's shop of the Rue St. Gingolphe in Paris was one of these. And
+      the taste he left behind him was rather disquieting. One was apt to feel
+      that there was a mistake somewhere in the ordering of human affairs, and
+      that this man was one of its victims.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes two men passed hastily through the shop into the little
+      room, with scarcely so much as a nod for Mr. Jacquetot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II. TOOLS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The first man to enter the room was clad in a blouse of coarse grey cloth
+      which reached down to his knees. On his head he wore a black silk cap,
+      very much pressed down and exceedingly greasy on the right side. This was
+      to be accounted for by the fact that he used his right shoulder more than
+      the left in that state of life in which he had been placed. It was not
+      what we, who do not kill, would consider a pleasant state. He was, in
+      fact, a slayer of beasts&mdash;a foreman at the slaughter-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is, perhaps, fortunate that Antoine Lerac is of no great prominence in
+      this record, and of none in his official capacity at the slaughter-house.
+      But the man is worthy of some small attention, because he was so
+      essentially of the nineteenth century&mdash;so distinctly a product of the
+      latter end of what is, for us at least, the most important cycle of years
+      the world has passed through. He was a man wearing the blouse with
+      ostentation, and glorying in the greasy cap: professing his unwillingness
+      to exchange the one for an ermine robe or the other for a crown. As a
+      matter of fact, he invariably purchased the largest and roughest blouse to
+      be found, and his cap was unnecessarily soaked with suet. He was a knight
+      of industry of the very worst description&mdash;a braggart, a talker, a
+      windbag. He preached, or rather he shrieked, the doctrine of equality, but
+      the equality he sought was that which would place him on a par with his
+      superiors, while in no way benefiting those beneath him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one time, when he had first come into contact with the dark-eyed man
+      who now sat at the table watching him curiously, there had been a struggle
+      for mastery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; he had said with considerable heat, &ldquo;as good as you. That is all I
+      wish to demonstrate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the other with that calm and assured air of superiority
+      which the people once tried in vain to stamp out with the guillotine. &ldquo;No,
+      it is not. You want to demonstrate that you are superior, and you cannot
+      do it. You say that you have as much right to walk on the pavement as I. I
+      admit it. In your heart you want to prove that you have <i>more</i>, and
+      you cannot do it. I could wear your blouse with comfort, but you could not
+      put on my hat or my gloves without making yourself ridiculous. But&mdash;that
+      is not the question. Let us get to business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And in time the butcher succumbed, as he was bound to do, to the man whom
+      he shrewdly suspected of being an aristocrat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who entered the room immediately afterwards was of a very different
+      type. His mode of entry was of another description. Whereas the man of
+      blood swaggered in with an air of nervous truculence, as if he were afraid
+      that some one was desirous of disputing his equality, the next comer crept
+      in softly, and closed the door with accuracy. He was the incarnation of
+      benevolence&mdash;in the best sense of the word, a sweet old man&mdash;looking
+      out upon the world through large tinted spectacles with a beam which could
+      not be otherwise than blind to all motes. In earlier years his face might,
+      perhaps, have been a trifle hard in its contour; but Time, the lubricator,
+      had eased some of the corners, and it was now the seat of kindness and
+      love. He bowed ceremoniously to the first comer, and his manner seemed
+      rather to breathe of fraternity than equality. As he bowed he mentioned
+      the gentleman's name in such loving tones that no greeting could have been
+      heartier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Citizen Morot,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher, with more haste than dignity, assumed the chair which stood
+      at the opposite end of the table to that occupied by the Citizen Morot. He
+      had evidently hurried in first in order to secure that seat. From his
+      pocket he produced a somewhat soiled paper, which he threw with
+      exaggerated carelessness across the table. His manner was not entirely
+      free from a suggestion of patronage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have we here?&rdquo; inquired the first comer, who had not hitherto opened
+      his lips, with a deep interest which might possibly have been ironical. He
+      was just the sort of man to indulge in irony for his own satisfaction. He
+      unfolded the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a receipt for five hundred rifles with bayonets and
+      shoulder-straps complete. 'Received of the Citizen Morot five hundred
+      rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.&mdash;Antoine Lerac.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he said gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of the
+      little iron stove behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I judged it best to be strictly business-like,&rdquo; said the butcher, with
+      moderately well-simulated carelessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But yes, Monsieur Lerac,&rdquo; with a shrug. &ldquo;We of the Republic distrust each
+      other so completely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The brave Lerac,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is a man of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot ignored this observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, turning to Lerac, &ldquo;you have them stored in a safe place?
+      There is absolutely no doubt of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely none.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are under my own eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good. It is not for a short time only, but for some months. One
+      cannot hurry the people. Besides, we are not ready. The rifles we bought,
+      the ammunition we must steal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are good rifles&mdash;they are English,&rdquo; said the butcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; the English Government is full of chivalry. They are always ready to
+      place it within the power of their enemies to be as well armed as
+      themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman laughed&mdash;a pleasant, cooing laugh. He invariably
+      encouraged humour, this genial philanthropist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last Friday's meeting,&rdquo; Lerac said shortly, &ldquo;we enrolled forty new
+      members. We now number four hundred and two in our <i>arrondissement</i>
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; muttered the Citizen Morot, without enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And four hundred hardy companions they are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I should imagine&rdquo; (very gravely).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Four hundred strong men,&rdquo; broke in the old gentleman rather hastily. &ldquo;Ah,
+      but that is already a power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; opined Lerac sententiously, &ldquo;the strong man who is the power.
+      Riches are nothing; birth is nothing. This is the day of force. Force is
+      everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything,&rdquo; acquiesced Morot fervently. He was consulting a small
+      note-book, wherein he jotted down some figures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Four hundred and two,&rdquo; he muttered as he wrote, &ldquo;up to Friday night, in
+      the <i>arrondissement</i> of the citizen&mdash;the good citizen&mdash;Antoine
+      Lerac.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher looked up with a doubtful expression upon his coarse face. His
+      great brutal lips twitched, and he was on the point of speaking when the
+      Citizen Morot's velvety eyes met his gaze with a quiet smile in which
+      arrogance and innocence were mingled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said the last-mentioned, turning affably to the old gentleman,
+      &ldquo;let us have the report of the reverend Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; laughed Lerac, without attempting to conceal the contempt that was
+      in his soul, &ldquo;the Church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman spread out his hands in mild deprecation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;we are under a shadow. I do not even dare to wear my
+      cassock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in a valley of shadow, my reverend friend,&rdquo; said the butcher,
+      with visible exultation, &ldquo;to which the sun will never penetrate now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot laughed at this pleasantry, while the old man against
+      whom it was directed bowed his head patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said the laugher, with a certain air of patronage, &ldquo;the Church
+      is of some use still. She paid for those rifles, and she will pay for the
+      ammunition&mdash;is it not so, my father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without doubt&mdash;without doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to mention,&rdquo; continued the other, &ldquo;many contributions towards our
+      general fund. The force that is supplied by the strong right arm of the
+      people is, one finds, a force constantly in need of substantial
+      replenishment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; exclaimed the butcher, emphatically banging his fist down upon the
+      table, &ldquo;why does she do it? That is what I want to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old priest glanced furtively towards Morot, and then his face assumed
+      an air of childish bewilderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said guilelessly, &ldquo;who can tell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who, indeed!&rdquo; chimed in Morot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher was pleased with himself. He sat upright, and, banging the
+      table a second time, he looked round defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Morot, in an indifferent way which was frequently
+      characteristic, &ldquo;I do not see that it matters much. The money is good. It
+      buys rifles, and it places them in the hands of the Citizen Lerac and his
+      hardy companions. And when all is said and done, when the cartridges are
+      burnt and a New Commune is raised, what does it matter whose money bought
+      the rifles, and with what object the money was supplied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
+      conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
+      upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for the
+      sake of peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets&mdash;causing
+      Morot to wince visibly&mdash;and acquiesced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he added cunningly, &ldquo;the Church, see you&mdash;Ach! it is deep&mdash;it
+      is treacherous. Never trust the Church!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
+      singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man and
+      said&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you nothing to report to us&mdash;my father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of great importance,&rdquo; replied he humbly. &ldquo;All is going on well.
+      We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
+      and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
+      in order to carry out the&mdash;the&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;the loan
+      of the ammunition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha!&rdquo; laughed the butcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next week?&rdquo; he said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;on Tuesday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher here rose and ostentatiously dragged out a watch from the
+      depths of his blouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have committee at seven o'clock. And I shall dine
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Morot gravely. &ldquo;Dine first. Take good care of yourself,
+      citizen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; was the reply, delivered with a little nod in answer to Lerac's
+      curt farewell bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The butcher walked noisily through the shop&mdash;heavy with
+      responsibility&mdash;weighted with the sense of his own importance to the
+      world in general and to France in particular. Had he walked less noisily
+      he might have overheard the soft laugh of the old priest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot did not laugh. He was not a laughing man. But a fine,
+      disdainful smile passed over his face, scarce lighting it up at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an utter fool the man is!&rdquo; he said impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;sir,&rdquo; replied the old man, &ldquo;but if he were less so it would be
+      difficult to manage him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sure. I always prefer to deal with knaves than with fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is because your Highness knows how to outwit them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No titles&mdash;my father,&rdquo; said the Citizen Morot quietly. &ldquo;No titles
+      here, if you please. Tell me, are you quite sure of this scum&mdash;this
+      Lerac?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As sure as one can be of anything that comes from the streets. He is an
+      excitable, bumptious, quarrelsome man; but he has a certain influence with
+      those beneath him, although it seems hard to realise that there are such.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! you are right! But a republic is a social manure-heap&mdash;that
+      which is on the top is not pleasant, and the stuff below&mdash;ugh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manner of the two men had quite changed. He who was called Morot leant
+      back in his seat and stretched his arms out wearily. There is no disguise
+      like animation; when that is laid aside we see the real man or the real
+      woman. In repose this Frenchman was not cheerful to look upon. He was not
+      sanguine, and a French pessimist is the worst thing of the kind that is to
+      be found.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind the departing Lerac, the old priest seemed
+      to throw off suddenly quite a number of years. His voice, when next he
+      spoke, was less senile, his movements were brisker. He was, in a word,
+      less harmless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Jacquetot had finished his dinner, brought in from a neighbouring
+      restaurant all hot, and was slumberously enjoying a very strong-smelling
+      cigar, when the door of the little room opened at length, and the two men
+      went out together into the dimly-lighted street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III. WITHOUT REST
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Half-way down Fleet Street, on the left-hand side, stands the church of
+      St. Dunstan-in-the-West. Around its grimy foundations there seethes a
+      struggling, toiling race of men&mdash;not only from morning till night,
+      but throughout the twenty-four hours. Within sound of this church bell a
+      hundred printing-presses throb out their odorous broadsheets to be
+      despatched to every part of the world. Day and night, week in week out,
+      the human writing-machines, and those other machines which are almost
+      human (and better than human in some points) hurry through their allotted
+      tasks, and ignore the saintly shadow cast upon them by the spire of St.
+      Dunstan. This is indeed the centre of the world: the hub from whence
+      spring the spokes of the vast wheel of life. For to this point all things
+      over the world converge by a vast web of wire, railroad, coach road, and
+      steamer track. Upon wings that boast of greater speed than the wind can
+      compass come to this point the voices of our kin in farthest lands. News&mdash;news&mdash;news.
+      News from the East of events occurring in the afternoon&mdash;scan it over
+      and flash it westward, where it will be read on the morning of the same
+      day! News in every tongue to be translated and brought into shape&mdash;while
+      the solemn church clock tells his tale in deep voice, audible above the
+      din and scurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From hurried scribbler to pale compositor, and behold, the news is bawled
+      all over London! Such work as this goes on for ever around the church of
+      St. Dunstan. Scribblers come and scribblers go; compositors come to their
+      work young and hopeful, they leave it bent and poisoned, yet the work goes
+      on. Each day the pace grows quicker, each day some new means of rapid
+      propagation is discovered, and each day life becomes harder to live. One
+      morning, perhaps, a scribbler is absent from his post&mdash;&ldquo;Brain-fever,
+      complete rest; a wreck.&rdquo; For years his writings have been read by
+      thousands daily. A new man takes the vacant chair&mdash;he has been
+      waiting more or less impatiently for this&mdash;and the thousands are none
+      the wiser. One night the head compositor presses his black hand to his
+      sunken chest, and staggers home. &ldquo;And time too&mdash;he's had his turn,&rdquo;
+       mutters the second compositor as he thinks of the extra five shillings a
+      week. No doubt he is right. Every dog his day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nearly opposite to the church stands a tall narrow house of dirty red
+      brick, and it is with this house that we have to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At seven o'clock, one evening some years ago&mdash;when heads now grey
+      were brown, when eyes now dim were bright&mdash;the Strand was in its
+      usual state of turmoil. Carriage followed carriage. Seedy clerks hustled
+      past portly merchants&mdash;not their own masters, <i>bien entendu</i>,
+      but those of other seedy clerks. Carriages and foot-passengers were alike
+      going westward. All were leaving behind them the day and the busy city&mdash;some
+      after a few hours devoted to the perusal of <i>Times</i> and <i>Gazette</i>;
+      others fagged and weary from a long day of dusty books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! those were prosperous days in the City. Days when men of but a few
+      years' standing rolled out to Clapham or Highgate behind a pair of horses.
+      Days when books were often represented by a bank-book and a roughly-kept
+      day-book. What need to keep mighty ledgers when profits are great and
+      returns quick in their returning?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the pedestrians made their way along the narrow pavement some of them
+      glanced at the door of the tall red-brick house and read the inscription
+      on a brass plate screwed thereon. This consisted of two mystic words: <i>The
+      Beacon</i>. There was, however, in reality, no mystery about it. The <i>Beacon</i>
+      was a newspaper, published weekly, and the clock of St. Dunstan's striking
+      seven told the end of another week. The publishing day was past; another
+      week with its work and pleasure was to be faced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From early morning until six o'clock in the evening this narrow doorway
+      and passage had been crowded by a heaving, swearing, laughing mass of more
+      or less dilapidated humanity interested in the retail sale of newspapers.
+      At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on the staff of
+      the <i>Beacon</i>, had taken his station at the door, in order to greet
+      would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging words: &ldquo;Sold hout!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling
+      &ldquo;hout&rdquo; of the <i>Beacon</i> every Tuesday evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At seven o'clock Mrs. Bander emerged from her den on the fourth floor,
+      like a portly good-natured spider, and with a broom proceeded to attack
+      the dust shaken from the boots of the journalistic fraternity, with noisy
+      energy. After that she polished the door-plate; and peace reigned within
+      the narrow house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the second floor there was a small room with windows looking out into a
+      narrow lane behind the house. It was a singularly quiet room; the door
+      opened and shut without sound or vibration; double windows insured
+      immunity from the harrowing cries of such enterprising merchants as
+      exercised their lungs and callings in the narrow lane beneath. A certain
+      sense of ease and comfort imperceptibly crept over the senses of persons
+      entering this tiny apartment. It must have been in the atmosphere; for
+      some rooms more luxuriously furnished are without it. It certainly does
+      not lie in the furniture&mdash;this imperceptible sense of companionship;
+      it does not lurk in the curtains. Some mansions know it, and many
+      cottages. It is even to be met with in the tiny cabin of a coasting
+      vessel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This diminutive room, despite its lack of sunlight, was such as one might
+      wish to sit in. A broad low table stood in the middle of the floor, and on
+      it lay the mellow light of a shaded lamp. At this table two men were
+      seated opposite to each other. One was writing, slowly and easily, the
+      other was idling with the calm restfulness of a man who has never worked
+      very hard. He was rolling his pencil up to the top of his blotting-pad,
+      and allowing it to come down again in accordance with the rules of
+      gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was Mr. Bodery's habit when thoughtful; and after all, there was no
+      great harm in it. Mr. Bodery was editor and proprietor of the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      The amusing and somewhat satirical article which appeared weekly under the
+      heading of &ldquo;Light&rdquo; was penned by the chubby hand at that moment engaged
+      with the pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan, sub-editor, was even stouter than his chief. Laughter was his
+      most prominent characteristic. He laughed over &ldquo;Light&rdquo; when in its embryo
+      state, he laughed when the <i>Beacon</i> sold out at six o'clock on
+      Tuesday evenings. He laughed when the printing-machine went wrong on
+      Monday afternoon, and&mdash;most wonderful of all&mdash;he laughed at his
+      own jokes, in which exercise he was usually alone. His jokes were not of
+      the first force. Mr. Morgan was the author of the slightly laboured and
+      weighty Parliamentary articles on the first page. He never joked on paper,
+      which is a gift apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two gentlemen were in no way of brilliant intellect. They had their
+      share of sound, practical common-sense, which is in itself a splendid
+      substitute. Fortune had come to them (as it comes to most men when it
+      comes at all) without any apparent reason. Mr. Bodery had supplied the
+      capital, and Mr. Morgan's share of the undertaking was added in the form
+      of a bustling, hollow energy. The <i>Beacon</i> was lighted, so to speak.
+      It burnt in a dull and somewhat flickering manner for some years; then a
+      new hand fed the flame, and its light spread afar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was from pure good nature that Mr. Bodery held out a helping hand to
+      the son of his old friend, Walter Vellacott, when that youth appeared one
+      day at the office of the <i>Beacon</i>, and in an off-hand manner
+      announced that he was seeking employment. Like many actions performed from
+      a similar motive, Mr. Bodery's kindness of heart met with its reward.
+      Young Christian Vellacott developed a remarkable talent for journalistic
+      literature&mdash;in fact, he was fortunate enough to have found, at the
+      age of twenty-two, his avocation in life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gradually, as the years wore on, the influence of the young fellow's
+      superior intellect made itself felt. Prom the position of a mere
+      supernumerary, he worked his way upwards, taking on to his shoulders one
+      duty after another&mdash;bearing the weight, quietly and confidently, of
+      one responsibility after another. This exactly suited Mr. Bodery and his
+      sub-editor. There was very little of the slave in the composition of
+      either. They delighted in an easy, luxurious life, with just enough work
+      to impart a pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction. It suited Christian
+      Vellacott also. In a few weeks he found his level&mdash;in a few months he
+      began rising to higher levels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was an only son; the only child of a brilliant father whose name was
+      known in every court in Europe as that of a harum-scarum diplomatist, who
+      could have done great things in his short life if he had wished to. It is
+      from only sons that Fortune selects her favourites. Men who have no
+      brothers to share their amusements turn to serious matters early in life.
+      Christian Vellacott soon discovered that a head was required at the office
+      of the <i>Beacon</i> to develop the elements of success undoubtedly lying
+      within the journal, and that the owner of such a head could in time
+      dictate his own terms to the easy-going proprietor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unsparingly he devoted the whole of his exceptional energies to the work
+      before him. He lived in and for it. Each night he went home fagged and
+      weary; but each morning saw him return to it with undaunted spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Human nature, however, is exhaustible. The influence of a strong mind over
+      a strong body is great, but it is nevertheless limited. The <i>Beacon</i>
+      had reached a large circulation, but its slave was worn out. Two years
+      without a holiday&mdash;two years of hurried, hard brain-work had left
+      their mark. It is often so when a man finds his avocation too early. He is
+      too hurried, works too hard, and collapses; or he becomes self-satisfied,
+      over-confident, and unbearable. Fortunately for Christian Vellacott he was
+      devoid of conceit, which is like the scaffolding round a church-spire,
+      reaching higher and falling first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was also a &ldquo;home&rdquo; influence at work. When Christian passed out of
+      the narrow doorway, and turned his face westward, his day's work was by no
+      means over, as will be shown hereafter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mr. Bodery rolled his pencil up and down his blotting-pad, he was
+      slowly realising the fact that something must be done. Presently he looked
+      up, and his pleasant eyes rested on the bent head of his sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Morgan,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have been thinking&mdash;Seems to me Vellacott wants
+      a rest! He's played out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan wiped his pen vigorously upon his coat, just beneath the
+      shoulder, and sat back in his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;he has not been up to the mark for some time. But you
+      will find difficulty in making him take a holiday. He is a devil for
+      working&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This &ldquo;ha, ha!&rdquo; did not mean very much. There was no mirth in it. It was a
+      species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his
+      remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will ring for him now and see what he says about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong. Almost
+      instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without said,
+      &ldquo;Yess'r.&rdquo; A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at attention in
+      the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Mr. Vellacott gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;sir!&rdquo; In a tone which seemed to ask: &ldquo;Now <i>is</i> it likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the shop, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask him to come here, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yess'r.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his
+      heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head
+      of the stairs. Then he proceeded to slide down the banister, to the
+      trifling detriment of his waistcoat. As he reached the end of his perilous
+      journey a door opened at the foot of the stairs, and a man's form became
+      discernible in the dim light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that the way you generally come downstairs, Wilson?&rdquo; asked a voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the quickest way, sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite; there is one quicker, which you will discover some day if you
+      overbalance at the top!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery wishes to see you, please sir!&rdquo; The small boy's manner was
+      very different from what it had been outside the door upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; replied Vellacott, putting on the coat he had been carrying
+      over his arm. A peculiar smooth rapidity characterised all his movements.
+      At school he had been considered a very &ldquo;clean&rdquo; fielder. The cleanness was
+      there still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The preternaturally sharp boy&mdash;sharp as only London boys are&mdash;watched
+      the lithe form vanish up the stairs; then he wagged his head very wisely
+      and said to himself in a patronising way:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's the right sort, he is&mdash;no chalk there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Subsequently he balanced his diminutive person full length upon the
+      balustrade, and proceeded to haul himself laboriously, hand over hand, to
+      the top.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Christian Vellacott had passed into the editor's room. The
+      light of the lamp was driven downwards upon the table, but the reflection
+      of it rose and illuminated his face. It was a fairly handsome face, with
+      eyes just large enough to be keen and quick without being dreamy. The
+      slight fair moustache was not enough to hide the mouth, which was refined,
+      and singularly immobile. He glanced at Mr. Bodery, as he entered, quickly
+      and comprehensively, and then turned his eyes towards Mr. Morgan. His face
+      was very still and unemotional, but it was pale, and his eyes were deeply
+      sunken. A keen observer would have noticed, in comparing the three men,
+      that there was something about the youngest which was lacking in his
+      elders. It lay in the direct gaze of his eyes, in the carriage of his
+      head, in the small, motionless mouth. It was what is vaguely called
+      &ldquo;power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Vellacott,&rdquo; said Mr. Brodery. &ldquo;We want to have a consultation.&rdquo;
+       After a short pause he continued: &ldquo;You know, of course, that it is a dull
+      season just now. People do not seem to read the papers in August. Now, we
+      want you to take a holiday. Morgan has been away; I shall go when you come
+      back. Say three weeks or a month. You've been over-working yourself a bit&mdash;burning
+      the candle at both ends, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly at both ends,&rdquo; corrected Vellacott, with a ready smile which
+      entirely transformed his face. &ldquo;Hardly at both ends&mdash;at one end in a
+      draught, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha! Very good,&rdquo; chimed in Mr. Morgan the irrepressible. &ldquo;At one end
+      in a draught&mdash;that is like me, only the draught has got inside my
+      cheeks and blown them out instead of in like yours, eh? Ha, ha!&rdquo; And he
+      patted his cheeks affectionately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I care for a holiday just now, thanks,&rdquo; he said slowly,
+      without remembering to call up a smile for Mr. Morgan's benefit.
+      Unconsciously he put his hand to his forehead, which was damp with the
+      heat of the printing-office which he had just left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery gravely, emphasising his remarks with
+      the pencil, &ldquo;you have one thing in life to learn yet&mdash;no doubt you
+      have many, but this one in particular you must learn. Work is not the only
+      thing we are created for&mdash;not the only thing worth living for. It is
+      a necessary evil, that is all. When you have reached my age you will come
+      to look upon it as such. A little enjoyment is good for every one. There
+      are many things to form a brighter side to life. Nature&mdash;travelling&mdash;riding&mdash;rowing&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And love,&rdquo; suggested the sub-editor, placing his hand dramatically on the
+      right side of his broad waistcoat instead of the left. He could afford to
+      joke on the subject now that the grass grew high in the little country
+      churchyard where he had laid his young wife fifteen years before. In those
+      days he was a grave, self-contained man, but that sorrow had entirely
+      changed his nature. The true William Morgan only came out on paper now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was right. Christian had yet to learn a great lesson, and
+      unconsciously he was even now beginning to grasp its meaning. His whole
+      mind was full of his work, and out of those earnest grey eyes his soul was
+      looking at the man who was perhaps saving his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can easily manage it,&rdquo; said the editor, continuing his advantage. &ldquo;I
+      will take over the foreign policy article. The reviewing you can do
+      yourself, as we can always send you the books, and there is no pressing
+      hurry about them. The general work we will manage somehow&mdash;won't we,
+      Morgan?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we will; as well as and perhaps better than he could do it
+      himself, eh? Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But seriously, Vellacott,&rdquo; continued Mr. Bodery, &ldquo;things will go on just
+      as well for a time. When I was young I used to make that mistake too. I
+      thought that no one could manage things like myself, but in time I
+      realised (as you will do some day) that things went on as smoothly when I
+      was away. Depend upon it, my boy, when a man is put on the shelf, worn out
+      and useless, another soon fills his place. You are too young to go on the
+      shelf yet. To please me, Vellacott, go away for three weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind, sir&mdash;&rdquo; began the young fellow, but Mr. Bodery
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, that is settled. Shall we say this day week? That will give
+      you time to make your plans.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a few words of thanks Christian left the room. Vaguely and
+      mechanically he wandered upstairs to his own particular den. It was a
+      disappointing little chamber. The chaos one expects to find on the desk of
+      a literary man was lacking here. No papers lay on the table in artistic
+      disorder. The presiding genius of the room was method&mdash;clear-headed,
+      practical method. The walls were hidden by shelves of books, from the last
+      half-hysterical production of some vain woman to the single-volume work of
+      a man's lifetime. Many of the former were uncut, the latter bore signs of
+      having been read and studied. The companionship of these silent friends
+      brought peace and contentment to the young man's spirit. He sat wearily
+      down, and, leaning his chin upon his folded arms, he thought. Gradually
+      there came into his mind pictures of the fair open country, of rolling
+      hills and quiet valleys, of quiet lanes and running waters. A sudden
+      yearning to breathe God's pure air took possession of his faculties. Mr.
+      Bodery had gained the day. In the room below Mr. Morgan wrote on in his
+      easy, comfortable manner. The editor was still thoughtfully playing with
+      his pencil. The sharp little boy was standing on his head in the passage.
+      At last Mr. Bodery rose from his chair and began his preparations for
+      leaving. As he brushed his hat he looked towards his companion and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recognised that fact some years ago,&rdquo; replied the sub-editor, wiping
+      his pen on his coat. &ldquo;It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV. BURDENED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the
+      westward-wending throng in the Strand. In the midst of the crowd he was
+      alone, as townsmen soon learn to be. The passing faces, the roar of
+      traffic, and the thousand human possibilities of interest around him in no
+      way disturbed his thoughts. In his busy brain the traffic of thought,
+      passing and repassing, crossing and recrossing, went on unaffected by
+      outward things. A modern poet has confessed that his muse loves the
+      pavement&mdash;a bold confession, but most certainly true. Why does talent
+      gravitate to cities? Because there it works its best&mdash;because
+      friction necessarily produces brilliancy. Nature is a great deceiver; she
+      draws us on to admire her insinuating charms, and in the contemplation of
+      them we lose our energy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had been born and bred in cities. The din and roar of life was
+      to him what the voice of the sea is to the sailor. In the midst of crowded
+      humanity he was in his element, and as he walked rapidly along he made his
+      way dexterously through the narrow places without thinking of it. While
+      meditating deeply he was by no means absorbed. In his active life there
+      had been no time for thoughts beyond the present, no leisure for dreaming.
+      He could not afford to be absent-minded. Numbers of men are so situated.
+      Their minds are required at all moments, in full working order, clear and
+      rapid&mdash;ready, shoes on feet and staff in hand, to go whithersoever
+      they may be called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although he was going to the saddest home that ever hung like a mill-stone
+      round a young neck, Christian wasted no time. The glory of the western sky
+      lay ruddily over the river as he emerged from the small streets behind
+      Chelsea and faced the broad placid stream. Presently he stopped opposite
+      the door of a small red-brick house, which formed the corner of a little
+      terrace facing the river and a quiet street running inland from it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a latch-key he admitted himself noiselessly&mdash;almost
+      surreptitiously. Once inside he closed the door without unnecessary sound
+      and stood for some moments in the dark little entrance-hall, apparently
+      listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a voice broke the silence of the house. A querulous,
+      high-pitched voice, quavering with the palsy of extreme age. The sound of
+      it was no new thing for Christian Vellacott. To-night his lips gave a
+      little twist of pain as he heard it. The door of the room on the ground
+      floor was open, and he could hear the words distinctly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know, Mrs. Strawd, we have a nephew, but he is always gadding about,
+      I am sure; he has been a terrible affliction to us. A frothy,
+      good-for-nothing boy&mdash;that is what he is. We have not set eyes on him
+      for a month or more. Why, I almost forget his name!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian, that is his name&mdash;a most inappropriate one, I am sure,&rdquo;
+       chimed in another voice, almost identical in tone. &ldquo;Why Walter should have
+      given him such a name I cannot tell. Ah! sister Judith, things are
+      different from what they used to be when we were younger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The frothy one outside the door seemed in no great degree impressed by
+      these impartial views upon himself, though the pained look was still upon
+      his lips as he turned to hang up his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's coming home to-night, though, Miss Judith,&rdquo; said another voice, in a
+      coaxing, wheedling tone, such as one uses towards petulant children. &ldquo;He's
+      coming home to-night, sure enough!&rdquo; It was a pleasant voice, with a
+      strong, capable ring about it. One instinctively felt that the possessor
+      of it was a woman to be relied upon at a crisis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he now&mdash;is he now?&rdquo; said the first speaker reflectively. &ldquo;Well, I
+      am sure it is time he did. We will just give him a lesson, eh, sister
+      Hester?&mdash;we will give him a lesson, shall we not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment the door opened, and a little woman, quiet though somewhat
+      anxious looking, came out. She evinced no surprise at the sight of the
+      good-for-nothing nephew in the dimly-lighted passage, greeting him in a
+      low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How have they been to-day, nurse?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they have been well enough, Master Christian,&rdquo; was the reply, in a
+      cheerful undertone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Judith has 'most got rid of her cold. But they've been very trying,
+      sir&mdash;just like children, as wilful as could be&mdash;the same
+      question over and over again till I was fit to cry. They are quieter now,
+      but&mdash;but it's you they're abusing now, Master Chris!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellow looked down into the little woman's face. His eyes were
+      sympathetic enough, but he said nothing. With a little nod and a
+      suppressed sigh he turned away from her. He laid his hand upon the door
+      and then stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As soon as you have brought up tea,&rdquo; he said, looking back, &ldquo;I will take
+      them for the evening, and you can have your rest as usual.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the room came, at intervals, the ring of silver, as if some one were
+      moving the spoons and forks from the table. Christian waited until these
+      sounds had ceased before he entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Aunt Judith. Good evening, Aunt Hester,&rdquo; he said cheerily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were exactly alike, these two old ladies; the same marvellously
+      wrinkled features and silver hair; voluminous caps and white woollen
+      shawls identical. With exaggerated marks of respect he kissed each by turn
+      on her withered cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I sit down, Aunt Judith?&rdquo; he asked, and without waiting for an answer
+      drew a chair towards the fireplace, where a small fire burnt though it was
+      the month of August.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Nephew Vellacott, you may take a seat,&rdquo; replied Aunt Judith with
+      chill severity, &ldquo;and you may also tell us where you have been during the
+      last four weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor old human wreck! Only ten hours earlier her nephew had bid her
+      farewell for the day. Christian began an explanation in a weary,
+      mechanical way, like an actor tired of the part assigned to him, but the
+      old ladies would not listen. Aunt Hester interrupted him promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your shallow excuses are wasted on us, Nephew Vellacott. You have
+      doubtless been away, enjoying yourself and leaving us&mdash;us who support
+      you and deprive ourselves in order to keep a decent coat upon your back&mdash;leaving
+      us to the mercy of all the thieves in London. And tell us, pray&mdash;what
+      are we to do for spoons and forks to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; exclaimed Christian with perfunctory interest, &ldquo;have the spoons
+      gone&mdash;?&rdquo; he almost said &ldquo;again,&rdquo; but checked himself in time. He
+      turned to look at the table, which had been carefully denuded of every
+      piece of silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see!&rdquo; quavered Aunt Judith triumphantly; and the two old
+      ladies rubbed their hands, nodded their palsied old heads at each other,
+      and chuckled in utter delight at their nephew's discomfiture, until Aunt
+      Judith was attacked by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to be
+      tearing her to pieces. Christian watched her with the ready keenness of a
+      sick-nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it occur?&rdquo; he asked, when the old lady had recovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see,&rdquo; remarked Aunt Hester, with the precise intonation of her
+      accomplice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>am</i> sure!&rdquo; panted Aunt Judith triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>am</i> sure!&rdquo; echoed Aunt Hester.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They allowed their nephew's remorse full scope, and then proceeded
+      laboriously to extract the missing articles from the side of Aunt Judith's
+      arm-chair. This farce was rehearsed every night, nearly word for word. A
+      pleasant recreation for an intellectual man, assuredly. The only relief to
+      the monotony was the occasional loss of a spoon in the crevice between the
+      arm and the seat of Aunt Judith's chair. Then followed such a fumbling and
+      a &ldquo;dear me-ing&rdquo; until the worthless nephew was perforce called to the
+      rescue, to fish and probe with a paper-knife till the lost treasure was
+      recovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We only wished, Nephew Vellacott, to show you what might have happened
+      during your unconscionable absence. Servants are only too ready to talk to
+      the first comer of their mistresses' wealth and position. They have no
+      discrimination.&rdquo; said Aunt Judith in a reproving tone. The old ladies were
+      very fond of boasting of their wealth and position, whereas, in reality,
+      their nephew was the only barrier between them and the workhouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Aunt Judith,&rdquo; replied Christian patiently, &ldquo;I will try and stay at
+      home more in future. But you know it is time I was doing something to earn
+      my own livelihood now. I cannot exist on your kindness all my life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had learnt to humour these two silly old women. During the two years
+      which had just passed he had gradually recognised the utter futility of
+      endeavouring to make them realise the true state of their affairs. They
+      spoke grandiloquently of the family solicitor: a man who had been in his
+      grave for nearly a quarter of a century. It was simply impossible to
+      instil into their minds any fact whatever, and such facts as had
+      established themselves there were permanent. They belonged to another
+      generation, and their mode of thought was a remnant of a forgotten and
+      unsatisfactory period. To them Napoleon the First was a living man, Queen
+      Victoria unheard of. The decay of their minds had been slow, and it had
+      been Christian Vellacott's painful task to watch its steady progress. Day
+      by day he had followed the gradual failing of each sense and power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something pathetic about the decay of a mind which has been
+      driven to death by constant work, but there is a compensating thought to
+      alleviate the sadness. It may rattle and grow loose, like some worn-out
+      engine, where the friction presses; but it will work till it collapses
+      totally, and some of the work achieved is good and permanent. It is bound
+      to be so. Infinitely sadder is the sight of a mind which is falling to
+      pieces by reason of the rust that has eaten into its very core. For rust
+      must needs mean idleness&mdash;and no human intellect <i>need</i> be idle.
+      So it had been with these two old ladies. Born in a wofully unintellectual
+      age, they had never left a certain groove in life. When their brother
+      married Christian Vellacott's grandmother, they had left his house in
+      Honiton to go and live in Bodmin upon a limited but sufficient income.
+      These &ldquo;sufficient incomes&rdquo; are a curse; they do not allow of charity and
+      make no call for labour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Christian Vellacott arrived in England, an orphan with no great
+      wealth, he made it his first duty to visit the only living relations he
+      possessed. He was just in time to save them, literally, from starvation.
+      It was obvious that he could not make a literary livelihood in Bodmin, so
+      he made a home for the two old wrecks of humanity in London. Their means,
+      like their minds, were simply exhausted. Aunt Judith was ninety-three;
+      Aunt Hester ninety-one. During that vast blank (for blank it was, so far
+      as their lives were concerned) stretching away back into a perspective of
+      time which few around them could gauge&mdash;they had never been separated
+      for one day. Like two apples they had grown side by side, until their very
+      contact had engendered disease&mdash;a slow, deadly, creeping rot, finding
+      its source at the point of contact, reaching its goal at the heart of
+      each. They had <i>existed</i> thus with terrible longevity&mdash;lived a
+      mere animal life of sleeping and eating, such as hundreds of women are
+      living around us now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, you must learn to make your daily bread, Nephew Vellacott!&rdquo;
+       answered Aunt Hester. &ldquo;The desire does you credit; but you should be
+      careful into what society you go without us. Girls are very designing, and
+      many a one would like to marry a nephew of mine&mdash;eh, Judith?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that they would,&rdquo; replied the old lady. &ldquo;The minxes know that they
+      might do worse than catch the nephew of Judith and Hester Vellacott!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at us,&rdquo; continued Aunt Hester, drawing up her shrunken old form with
+      a touch of pride. &ldquo;Look at us? We have always avoided marriage, and we are
+      very nice and happy, I am sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She waited for a confirmation of this bold statement, but Christian was
+      not listening. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his
+      knees, gazing into the fire. He was recalling the conversation which had
+      passed in the little room in the Strand. Could he leave these two helpless
+      old creatures. Could he get away from it all for a little time&mdash;away
+      from the maddening prattle of unguided tongues, from the dread monotony of
+      hopeless watching? He knew that he was wasting his manhood, neglecting his
+      intellectual opportunities, and endangering his career; but his course of
+      duty was marked out with terrible distinctness. He never saw the pathos of
+      it, as a woman would have seen it, gathering perhaps some slight
+      alleviation from the sight. It never entered his thoughts to complain, and
+      he never conceived the idea of drawing comparisons between his position
+      and that of other young men who, instead of being slaves to their
+      relatives, made very good use of them. He merely went on doing his obvious
+      duty and striving not to look forward too eagerly to a release at some
+      future period.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately, Mrs. Strawd was not long in bringing in the simple evening
+      meal; and the attention of the old ladies was at once turned to the
+      mystery hidden beneath the dish-cover. What was it, and would there be
+      enough for Nephew Vellacott?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Deftly, Christian poured out the tea. Two cups very weak and one stronger.
+      Then two thin slices of crustless bread had to be buttered. This operation
+      required great judgment and impartiality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, Nephew Vellacott!&rdquo; said Aunt Judith, with dangerous severity.
+      &ldquo;Is that first slice intended for Aunt Hester? It appears to me that the
+      butter is very thick&mdash;much thicker than on the second, which is
+      doubtless intended for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so, Aunt Judith?&rdquo; asked Christian in a voice purposely loud
+      in order to drown Aunt Hester's remonstrance. &ldquo;Then I will take a little
+      off!&rdquo; He passed the knife harmlessly over the faulty slice, and laid the
+      two side by side upon a plate. Then the old ladies promptly held a survey
+      on them&mdash;that declared to be more heavily buttered being awarded to
+      Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly
+      despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the property
+      of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament. The part he played
+      in the domestic economy of the small household was a contemplative rather
+      than an active one. Mick, Aunt Hester's bird, was of a more lively nature.
+      He had, as a rule, something to say upon all subjects&mdash;and said it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Aunt Hester, in her inmost heart, loved a silent bird, and secretly
+      coveted Dick, but as Mick was her property, and Dick the silent was owned
+      by Aunt Judith, she never lost an opportunity of enlarging upon the
+      stupidity and uselessness of silent birds. Aunt Judith, on the other hand,
+      admired a lively and talkative canary; consequently she was weighed down
+      with the conviction that her sister's bird was the superior article.
+      Altogether, birds as a topic of conversation were best avoided. Dick and
+      Mick were housed in cages of similar build&mdash;indeed, most things were
+      strictly in duplicate in the whole household. Every evening Christian
+      brought the cages, and Aunt Judith and Aunt Hester carefully placed within
+      the wires a small piece of bread-and-butter, which Nurse Strawd as
+      carefully removed, untouched, the next morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the birds' wants had been attended to, it was Christian's duty to
+      settle the old ladies comfortably in their respective arm-chairs. This he
+      did tenderly and cleverly as a woman, but it was not a pleasant sight to
+      look upon. The man, with his lean, strong face, long jaw, and prominent
+      chin, was so obviously out of place. These peaceful duties were never
+      meant for such as he. His somewhat closely-set eyes were not such as wax
+      tender over drowning flies, for even in repose they were somewhat direct
+      and stern in their gaze. In fact, Christian Vellacott was so visibly
+      created for strife and the forefront of life's battle, that it was almost
+      painful to see him fulfilling a more peaceful avocation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a rule he devoted himself to the amusement of his aged relatives for an
+      hour or so; but this evening he sat down to the piano at once, with the
+      deliberate intention of playing them off to sleep. Ten o'clock was their
+      hour for retiring, and before that they would not move, although they
+      dozed in their chairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was no mean musician, this big West-countryman, with a true ear and a
+      touch peculiarly light and tender for a man. He played gently and drowsily
+      for some time, half forgetting that he was not alone in the room.
+      Presently he turned round, letting his fingers rest on the keys. Aunt
+      Judith was asleep, and Aunt Hester made a sign for him to go on playing.
+      Five minutes more, gradually toned down till the very sounds seemed to
+      fall asleep, and Aunt Hester was peacefully slumbering. Silently the
+      player rose, and crossing the room, he resumed his seat at the table from
+      which the white cloth had not yet been removed. Pen, ink, and paper were
+      within reach, and in a few minutes he had written the following note:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SIDNEY,&mdash;May I retract the letter I wrote yesterday and accept
+      your invitation? I have been requested to take a holiday, and, rather than
+      offend the powers that be, have given in. I can think of no happier way of
+      spending it than in seeing you all again and recalling the jolly old
+      Prague days. With kind regards, yours ever,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      He folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, which he addressed to
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew, Esq., St. Mary Western, Dorset.&rdquo; Then he slipped
+      noiselessly out of the room and upstairs to where Mrs. Strawd had a small
+      sitting-room of her own. The little woman heard his footstep on the old
+      creaking stairs, and opened the door of her room before he reached it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I went away for three weeks,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;could you do without me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I could,&rdquo; replied the little woman readily. &ldquo;Just you go away
+      and take a holiday, Master Christian. You need it sorely, that I know. You
+      do indeed. We shall get on splendidly without you. I'll just have my
+      sister to come and stay, same as I did when you had to go to the Paris
+      House of Parliament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not had much of a holiday, you see, for two years now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you haven't, and you want it. It's only human nature&mdash;and
+      you a young man that ought to be in the open air all day. For an old woman
+      like me it's different. We're made differently by the good God on purpose,
+      I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, if your sister comes it must be understood, nurse, that I
+      make the same arrangement with her as exists with you. She must simply be
+      a duplicate of you&mdash;you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little woman laughed, lightly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, Master Christian, that is all right. But you need not have
+      troubled about that. She never would have thought of such a thing as
+      wages, I'm sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied he gravely, &ldquo;I know she would not, but it will be better, I
+      think, to have it understood beforehand. Gratitude is a very nice thing to
+      work for, but some work is worth more than gratitude. If you are going out
+      for your walk, perhaps you will post this letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Christian went to bed that night he held a candle close to the
+      mirror and looked long and hard at his own reflection. There were dark
+      streaks under his eyes, his small mouth was drawn and dry, his lips
+      colourless. At each temple the bone stood out rather prominently, and the
+      skin was brilliant in its whiteness and reflected the light of the candle.
+      He felt his own pulse. It was beating, at one moment fast and irregular,
+      at the next it was hardly perceptible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; he muttered, with a professional nod&mdash;in his training as a
+      journalist he had learnt a little of many sciences&mdash;&ldquo;yes, old Bodery
+      was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V. A REUNION
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The gentle August night had cooled and soothed the dusty atmosphere. All
+      things looked fair, even in London. The placid Thames glided stealthily
+      down to the sea, as if wishing to speed on unseen, to cast at last his
+      reeking waters into the cool ocean. The bright brown sails, low hulls, and
+      gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream added to
+      the beauty of the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the
+      door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man. When once he
+      had made up his mind to go, every obstacle was thrown aside, and his
+      determination was now as great as had been his previous reluctance. He had
+      no presentiment that he was taking an important step in life&mdash;one of
+      those steps which we hardly notice at the time, but upon which we look
+      back in after years and note how clear and definite it was, losing
+      ourselves in vague conjecture as to what might have been had we held back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian being practical in all things, knew how to travel comfortably,
+      dispensing with rugs and bags and such small packages as are understood to
+      be dear to the elderly single female heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smoky suburbs were soon left behind, and the smiling land gave forth
+      such gentle, pastoral odours as only long confinement in cities can teach
+      us to detect. Christian lowered the window, and the warm air played round
+      him as it had not done for two long years. The whizz of the wind past his
+      face brought back the memory of the long, idle, happy days spent with his
+      father in the Mediterranean, when they had been half sailors and wholly
+      Bohemians, gliding from port to port, village to city, in their yacht, as
+      free and careless as the wind. The warm breeze almost seemed to be coming
+      to him from some parched Italian plain instead of pastoral
+      Buckinghamshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then his thoughts travelled still further back to his school-days in
+      Prague, when his father and Mr. Carew were colleagues in a brilliant but
+      unfortunate embassy. Five years had passed since then. The two fathers
+      were now dead, and the children had dropped apart as men and women do when
+      their own personal interests begin to engross them. Now again, in this
+      late summer time, they were to meet. All, that is, who were left. The <i>débris</i>,
+      as it were. Three voices there were whose tones would never more be heard
+      in the round of merry jest. Mr. Carew, Walter Vellacott (Uncle Walter, the
+      young ones called him), and little Charlie Carew, the bright-eyed sailor
+      of the family, had all three travelled on. The two former, whose age and
+      work achieved had softened their departure, were often spoken of with
+      gently lowered voice, but little Charlie's name was never mentioned. It
+      was a fatal mistake&mdash;this silence&mdash;if you will; but it was one
+      of those mistakes which are often made in wisdom. In splendid, solitary
+      grandeur he lay awaiting the end of all things&mdash;the call of his
+      Creator&mdash;in the grey ice-fields of the North. The darling of his
+      ship, he had died with a smile in his blue eyes and a sad little jest upon
+      his lips to cheer the rough fur-clad giants kneeling at his side. Time,
+      the merciful, had healed, as best he could (which is by no means
+      perfectly), the wound in the younger hearts. It is only the old that are
+      quite beyond his powers; he cannot touch them. Mrs. Carew, a woman with a
+      patient face and a ready smile, was the only representative of the
+      vanishing generation. Her daughters&mdash;ay! and perhaps her sons as well
+      (though boys are not credited with so much tender divination)&mdash;knew
+      the meaning of the little droop at the side of their mother's smiling
+      lips. They detected the insincerity of her kindly laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shortly after leaving Exeter, Christian's station was reached. This was an
+      old-fashioned seaport town, whose good fortune it was to lie too far west
+      for a London watering-place, and too far east for Plymouth or Bristol.
+      Sidney Carew was on the platform&mdash;a sturdy, typical Englishman, with
+      a certain sure slowness of movement handed down to him by seafaring
+      ancestors. The two friends had not met for many years, but with men
+      absence has little effect upon affection. During the space of many years
+      they may never meet and seldom write, but at the end that gulf of time is
+      bridged over by a simple &ldquo;Halloa, old fellow!&rdquo; and a warm grip. Slowly,
+      piece by piece, the history of the past years comes out. Both are probably
+      changed in thought and nature, but the old individuality remains, the old
+      bond of friendship survives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Sidney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Simultaneously&mdash;and that was all. The changes were there in both, and
+      noted by both, but not commented upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Molly is outside with the dog-cart,&rdquo; said Sidney; &ldquo;is your luggage
+      forward?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is it being pitched out now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with womanly foresight that Miss Molly Carew had elected to wait
+      outside with the dog-cart while her brother met Christian on the platform.
+      She feared a little natural embarrassment at meeting the old playfellow of
+      the family, and concluded that the first moments would be more easily
+      tided over here than at the train. Her fears were, as it turned out,
+      unnecessary, but she did not know what Christian might be like after the
+      lapse of years. Of herself she was sure enough, being one of those happy
+      people who have no self-consciousness whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On seeing her, Christian came forward at once, raising his hat and shaking
+      hands as if they had parted the day before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw at once that it was all right. This was Christian Vellacott as she
+      had remembered him. She looked down at him as he stood with one hand
+      resting on the splashboard, and he, looking up to her, smiled in return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;do you know I should scarcely have recognised you.
+      You are so big, and&mdash;and you look positively ghastly!&rdquo; She finished
+      her remark with a little laugh which took away from the spoken meaning of
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ghastly?&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Thanks: I do not feel like it&mdash;only hungry.
+      Hungry, and desperately glad to see a face that does not look overworked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave a little sarcastic nod, and pursed up a pair of very red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nevertheless I am the only person in the house who does any work at all.
+      Hilda, for instance&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Sidney came up and interrupted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jump up in front, Chris,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;Molly will drive, while I sit behind.
+      Your luggage will follow in the cart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drive of six miles passed away very pleasantly. Molly's strong little
+      hands were quite accustomed to the reins, and the men were free to talk,
+      which, however, she found time to do as well. The two young people on the
+      front seat stole occasional sidelong glances at each other. The clever,
+      mischievous little girl of Christian's recollection was transformed by the
+      kindly hand of time into a fascinating and capable young lady. The
+      uncertain profile had grown clear and regular. The truant hair was
+      somewhat more under control, which, however, was all that could be said
+      upon that subject. Only her eyes were unchanged, the laughing, fearless
+      eyes of old. Fearless they had been in the times of childish mischief and
+      adventure; fearless they remained in the face of life's graver mischances
+      now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had been a shy and commonplace-enough boy as she recollected
+      him. Now she found a self-possessed man of the world. Tall and strong of
+      body she saw he was, and she felt that he possessed another strength&mdash;a
+      strength of mind and will which, reaching out, can grasp and hold anything
+      or everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With practised skill, Molly turned into the narrow gateway at a swinging
+      trot, and then only was the house visible&mdash;a low, rambling building
+      of brick and stone uncouthly mixed. Its chief outward characteristic was a
+      promise of inward comfort. The sturdy manner in which its windows faced
+      the scantily-wooded tableland that stretched away unbroken by wall or
+      hedgerow to the sea, implied a certain thickness of wall and woodwork. The
+      doorway which looked inland was singularly broad, and bore signs about its
+      stonework of having once been even broader. The house had originally been
+      a hollow square, with a roofless courtyard in the centre, into which the
+      sheep and cattle were in olden times driven for safety at night against
+      French marauders. This had later on been roofed in, and transformed into a
+      roomy and comfortable hall, such as might be used as a sitting-room. All
+      around the house, except, indeed, upon the sea-ward side, stood gnarled
+      and twisted trees; Scotch firs in abundance, here and there a Weymouth
+      pine, and occasionally a knotted dwarf oak with a tendency to run inland.
+      The garden was, however, rich enough in shrubs and undergrowth, and to the
+      landward side was a gleam of still water, being all that remained of a
+      broad, deep moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew welcomed Christian at the open door. She said very little, but
+      her manner was sufficiently warm and friendly to dispense with words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Hilda?&rdquo; asked Molly, as she leapt lightly to the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know, dear. She is out, somewhere; in the garden, I expect. You
+      are before your time a little. The train must have been punctual, for a
+      wonder. Had Hilda known, she would have been here to welcome you, I know,
+      Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect she is at the moat,&rdquo; said Molly. &ldquo;Come along, Christian; we will
+      go and look for her. This way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Sidney had driven the dog-cart round to the stables,
+      kneeling awkwardly upon the back seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Christian followed his fair guide down the little path leading to the
+      moat, he began to feel that it was not so difficult after all to throw off
+      the dull weight of anxiety that lay upon his mind. The thoughts about the
+      <i>Beacon</i> were after all not so very absorbing. The anxiety regarding
+      the welfare of the two old ladies was already alleviated by distance. The
+      strong sea air, the change to pleasant and kindly society, were already
+      beginning their work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Molly stopped, and Christian saw that she was standing at the
+      edge of a long, still sheet of water bounded by solid stonework, which,
+      however, was crumbling away in parts, while everywhere the green moss grew
+      in velvety profusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christian,&rdquo; said Molly lightly, &ldquo;I suppose Sidney told you a little
+      of our news. Men's letters are not discursive as a rule I know, but no
+      doubt he told you&mdash;something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing beside her at the edge of the moat, looking down into the
+      deep, clear water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied slowly, &ldquo;yes, Molly; he told me a little in a scrappy,
+      unsatisfactory way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A pained expression came into her eyes for a moment, and then she spoke,
+      rather more quickly than was habitual with her, but without raising her
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told you&mdash;nothing about Hilda?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and looked down at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw approaching them a
+      young man and a maiden whose footsteps had been inaudible upon the
+      moss-grown path. The man was of medium height, with an honest brown face.
+      He was dressed for riding, and walked with a slight swagger, which arose
+      less from conceit than from excessive riding on horseback. The maiden was
+      tall and stately, and in her walk there was an old-fashioned grace of
+      movement which harmonised perfectly with the old-world surroundings. She
+      was looking down, and Christian could not see her face; but as she wore no
+      hat, he saw and recognised her hair. This was of gold&mdash;not red, not
+      auburn, not flaxen, but pure and living gold. The sun glinting through the
+      trees shone upon it and gleamed, but in reality the hair gleamed without
+      the aid of sunlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI. BROKEN THREADS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      They came forward, and suddenly the girl raised her face. She made a
+      little hesitating movement of non-recognition, and then suddenly her face
+      was transformed by a very pleasant smile. There was something peculiar in
+      Hilda Carew's smile, which came from the fact that her eyelashes were
+      golden, while her eyes were dark blue. The effect suggested a fascinating
+      kitten. In repose her face was almost severe in its refined beauty, and
+      the set of her lips indicated a certain self-reliance which with years
+      might become more prominent if trouble should arrive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;I am sorry I did not know you.&rdquo; They shook
+      hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Farrar,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;Mr. Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
+      Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking contradiction
+      to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tea is ready,&rdquo; said Molly somewhat hastily; &ldquo;let us go in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
+      followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion found
+      herself compelled to wait for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,&rdquo;
+       said he in a conversational way; &ldquo;it is quite green, and almost
+      transparent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Molly, moving away tentatively, &ldquo;we see most peculiar
+      effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
+      lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
+      truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
+      cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether the
+      action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At length
+      he turned to follow her, but Molly had failed in her object; the others
+      had passed out of earshot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Christian in a lowered voice, &ldquo;who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is the squire of St. Mary Eastern, six miles from here,&rdquo; she replied;
+      &ldquo;very well off; very good to his mother, and in every way nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian tore off a small branch which would have touched his forehead
+      had he walked on without stooping. He broke it into small pieces, and
+      continued throwing up at intervals into the air a tiny stick, hitting it
+      with his hand as they walked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said suggestively, &ldquo;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Christian,&rdquo; she replied decisively, &ldquo;they are engaged. Come, let us
+      hurry; I always pour out the tea. I told you before, if you remember, that
+      I was the only person in the house who did any work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Christian opened his eyes the following morning, the soft hum of
+      insects fell on his ear instead of the roar of London traffic. Through the
+      open window the southern air blew upon his face. Above the sound of busy
+      wings the distant sea sang its low dirge. It was a living perspective of
+      sound. The least rustle near at hand overpowered it, and yet it was always
+      there&mdash;an unceasing throb to be felt as much as heard. Some acoustic
+      formation of the land carried the noise, for the sea was eight miles away.
+      It was very peaceful; for utter stillness is not peace. A room wherein an
+      old clock ticks is infinitely more soothing than a noiseless chamber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless the feeling that forced itself into Christian Vellacott's
+      waking thoughts was not peaceful. It was a sense of discomfort.
+      Town-people expect too much from the country&mdash;that is the truth of
+      it. They quite overlook the fact that where human beings are there can be
+      no peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sudden sense of restlessness annoyed him. He knew it so well. It had
+      hovered over his waking head almost daily during the last two years, and
+      here, in the depths of the country, he had expected to be without it.
+      Moreover, he was conscious that he had not brought the cause with him. He
+      had found it, waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were many things&mdash;indeed there was almost everything&mdash;to
+      make his life happy and pleasant at St. Mary Western. But in his mind, as
+      he woke up on this first morning, none of these things found place. He
+      came to his senses thinking of the one little item which could be
+      described as untoward&mdash;thinking of Hilda, and Hilda engaged to be
+      married to Fred Farrar. It was not that he was in love with Hilda Carew
+      himself. He had scarcely remembered her existence during the last two
+      years. But this engagement jarred, and Farrar jarred. It was something
+      more than the very natural shock which comes with the news that a
+      companion of our youth is about to be married&mdash;shock which seems to
+      shake the memory of that youth; to confuse the background of our life. It
+      is by means of such shocks as these that Fate endeavours vainly to make us
+      realise that the past is irrevocable&mdash;that we are passing on, and
+      that that which has been can never be again. And at the same time we learn
+      something else: namely, that the past is not by any means unchangeable. So
+      potential is To-day that it not only holds To-morrow in the hollow of its
+      hand, but it can alter Yesterday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott lay upon his bed in unwonted idleness, gazing vaguely
+      at the flying clouds. The window was open, and the song of the distant sea
+      rose and fell with a rhythm full of peace. But in this man's mind there
+      was no peace. In all probability there never would be complete peace
+      there, because Ambition had set its hold upon him. He wanted to do more
+      than there was time for. Like many of us, he began by thinking that Life
+      is longer than it is. Its whole length is in those &ldquo;long, long thoughts&rdquo;
+       of Youth. When those are left behind, we settle down to work, and the rest
+      of the story is nothing but labour. Vellacott resented this engagement
+      because he felt that Hilda Carew had stepped out of that picture which
+      formed what was probably destined to be the happiest time of his life&mdash;his
+      Youth. For the unhappiness of Youth is preferable to the resignation of
+      Age. He felt that she had willingly resigned something which he would on
+      no account have given up. Above all, he felt that it was a mistake. This
+      was, of course, at the bottom of it. He probably felt that it was a pity.
+      We usually feel so on hearing that a pretty and charming girl is engaged
+      to be married. We think that she might have done so much better for
+      herself, and we grow pensive or possibly sentimental over her lost
+      opportunity when contemplating him in the mirror as he shaves. Like all
+      so-called happy events, an engagement is not usually a matter of universal
+      rejoicing. Some one is, in all probability, left to think twice about it.
+      But Christian Vellacott was not prepared to admit that he was in that
+      position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was naturally of an observant habit&mdash;his father had been one of
+      the keenest-sighted men of his day&mdash;and he had graduated at the
+      subtlest school in the world. He unwittingly fell to studying his
+      fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of
+      this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little
+      scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically
+      pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his
+      clients.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note. The
+      squire of St. Mary Eastern was apparently very similar to his fellows. He
+      was an ordinary young British squire with a knowledge of horses and a
+      highly-developed fancy for smart riding-breeches and long boots. He had
+      probably received a fair education, but this had ceased when he closed his
+      last school-book. The seeds of knowledge had been sown, but they lacked
+      moisture and had failed to grow. He was good-natured, plucky in a
+      hard-headed British way, and gentlemanly. In all this there was nothing
+      exceptional&mdash;nothing to take note of&mdash;and Vellacott only
+      remembered the limpness of Frederick Farrar's grasp. He thought of this
+      too persistently and magnified it. And this being the only mental note
+      made, was rather hard on the young squire of St. Mary Eastern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott thought of these things while he dressed, he thought of them
+      intermittently during the unsettled, noisy, country breakfast, and when he
+      found himself walking beside the moat with Hilda later on he was still
+      thinking of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had not yet gathered into their hands the threads which had been
+      broken years before. At times they hit upon a topic of some slight common
+      interest, but something hovered in the air between them. Hilda was gay, as
+      she had always been, in a gentle, almost purring way; but a certain
+      constrained silence made itself felt at times, and they were both
+      intensely conscious of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott was fully aware that there was something to be got over, and so
+      instead of skipping round it, as a woman might have done, he went
+      blundering on to the top of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hilda,&rdquo; he said suddenly, &ldquo;I have never congratulated you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bent her head in a grave little bow which was not quite English; but
+      she said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can only wish you all happiness,&rdquo; he continued rather vaguely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she made that mystic little motion of the head, but did not look
+      towards him, and never offered the assistance of smile or word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A long life, a happy one, and your own will,&rdquo; he added more lightly,
+      looking down into the green water of the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said, standing quite still beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then there followed an awkward pause. It was Vellacott who finally
+      broke the silence in the only way left to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like Farrar,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am sure he will make you happy. He&mdash;is a
+      lucky fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the walk that ran the whole length of that part of the moat
+      which had been allowed to remain intact, she made a little movement as if
+      to turn aside beneath the hazel trees and towards the house. But he would
+      not let her go. He turned deliberately upon his heel and waited for her.
+      There was nothing else to do but acquiesce. They retraced their steps with
+      that slow reflectiveness which comes when one walks backwards and forwards
+      over the same ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something eminently conversational in the practice of walking to
+      and fro. For that purpose it is better than an arm-chair and a pipe, or a
+      piece of knitting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Occasionally Vellacott dropped a pace behind, apparently with a purpose;
+      for when he did so he raised his eyes instantly. He seemed to be slowly
+      detailing the maiden, and he frowned a little. She was exactly what she
+      had promised to be. The singularly golden hair which he had last seen
+      flowing freely over her slight young shoulders had acquired a decorousness
+      of curve, although the hue was unchanged. The shoulders were exactly the
+      same in contour, on a slightly larger scale; and the manner of carrying
+      her head&mdash;a manner peculiarly her own, and suggestive of a certain
+      gentle wilfulness&mdash;was unaltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet there was a change: that subtle change which seems to come to
+      girls suddenly, in the space of a week&mdash;of one night. And this man
+      was watching her with his analytical eyes, wondering what the change might
+      be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was more or less a bookworm, and he possibly thought that this subject&mdash;this
+      pleasant young subject walking beside him in a blue cotton dress&mdash;was
+      one which might easily be grasped and understood if only one gave one's
+      mind to it. Hence the little frown. It denoted the gift of his mind. It
+      was the frown that settled over his eyes when he cut the pages of a deep
+      book and glanced at the point of his pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had read many books, and he knew a number of things. But there is one
+      subject of which very little can be learnt in books&mdash;precisely the
+      subject that walked in a blue cotton dress by Christian Vellacott's side
+      at the edge of the moat. If any one thinks that book-learning can aid this
+      study, let him read the ignorance of Gibbon, comparing it with the
+      learning of that cheery old ignoramus Montaigne. And Vellacott was nearer
+      to Gibbon in his learning than to Montaigne in his careless ignorance of
+      those things that are written in books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced at her; he frowned and brought his whole attention to bear upon
+      her, and he could not even find out whether she was pleased to listen to
+      his congratulations, or angry, or merely indifferent. It was rather a
+      humiliating position for a clever man&mdash;for a critic who knew himself
+      to be capable of understanding most things, of catching the drift of most
+      thoughts, however imperfectly expressed. He was vaguely conscious of
+      defeat. He felt that he was nonplussed by a pair of soft round eyes like
+      the eyes of a kitten, and the dignified repose of a pair of demure red
+      lips. Both eyes and lips, as well as shoulders and golden hair, were
+      strangely familiar and strangely strange by turns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With one finger he twisted the left side of his moustache into his mouth,
+      and, dragging at it with his teeth, distorted his face in an unbecoming if
+      reflective manner, which was habitually indicative of the deepest
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While reflecting, he forgot to be conversational, and Hilda seemed to be
+      content with silence. So they walked the length of the moat twice without
+      speaking, and might have accomplished it a third time, had little Stanley
+      Carew not appeared upon the scene with the impulsive energy of his
+      thirteen years, begging Christian to bowl him some really swift overhands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII. PUPPETS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! It goes. It goes already!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker&mdash;the Citizen Morot&mdash;slowly rubbed his white hands
+      one over the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing at the window of a small house in an insignificant street
+      on the southern side of the Seine. He was remarkably calm&mdash;quite the
+      calmest man within the radius of a mile; for the insignificant little
+      street was in an uproar. There was a barricade at each end of it. Such a
+      barricade as Parisians love. It was composed of a few overturned
+      omnibuses; for the true Parisian is a cynic. He likes overturned things,
+      and he loves to see objects of peace converted to purposes of war. He is
+      not content that ploughshares be beaten into swords. He prefers
+      altar-rails. And so this little street was blocked at either end by a
+      barricade of overturned omnibuses, of old hampers and empty boxes, of a
+      few loads of second-hand bricks and paving-stones brought from the scene
+      of some drainage operations round the corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the street between the barricades, surged, hooted, and yelled that
+      wildest and most dangerous of incomprehensibles&mdash;a Paris mob.
+      Half-a-dozen orators were speaking at once, and no one was listening to
+      them. Here and there amidst the rabble a voice was raised at times with
+      suspicious persistence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Vive le Roi!</i>&rdquo; it cried. &ldquo;Long live the King!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few took up the refrain, but the general tone was negative. It was not
+      so much a question of upholding anything as of throwing down that which
+      was already up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down with the Republic!&rdquo; was the favourite cry. &ldquo;Down with the President!
+      Down with everything!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And each man cried down his favourite enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot listened, and his contemptuous mouth was twisted with a
+      delicate, subtle smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;The voice of the people. The howling of the wolves. Go
+      on, go on, my braves. Cry 'Long live the King,' and soon you will begin to
+      believe that you mean it. They are barking now. Let them bark. Soon we
+      shall teach them to bite, and then&mdash;then, who knows?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he stood there amidst the din
+      and hubbub&mdash;dreaming. At last he raised his hand to his forehead&mdash;a
+      prominent, rounded forehead, flat as the palm of one's hand from eyebrow
+      to eyebrow, and curving at either side, sharply, back to deep-sunken
+      temples.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed, with a little laugh; and he drew from an inner pocket
+      a delicately scented pocket-handkerchief, with which he wiped his brow.
+      &ldquo;If I get excited now, what will it be when they begin&mdash;to bite?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this while the orators were shouting their loudest, and the voices
+      dispersed throughout the crowd raised at intervals their short, sharp cry
+      of&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Long live the King!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the police? There were only two agents attached to the immediate
+      neighbourhood, and they were smoking cigars and drinking absinthe in two
+      separate cellars, with the door locked on the outside. They were prisoners
+      of war of the most resigned type. The room in which stood the Citizen
+      Morot was dark, and wisely so. For the Parisian street politician can make
+      very pretty practice of a lighted petroleum-lamp with an empty bottle or
+      half a brick. The window was wide open, and the wooden shutters were
+      hooked back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attitude of the man was interested and slightly self-satisfied. It
+      suggested that of the manager of a theatre looking down from an upper-tier
+      box upon a full house and a faultless stage. At the same time he was
+      keeping what sailors call a very &ldquo;bright look-out&rdquo; towards either end of
+      the street. From his elevated position he was able to see over the
+      barricades, and he watched with intense interest the movements of two
+      women (or perhaps men disguised as such) who stood in the centre of the
+      street just beyond each obstruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something dramatic in the motionless attitude of these two
+      women, standing guard alone in the deserted street, on the wrong side of
+      the barricades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At times Morot leant well out of the window and listened. Then he stood
+      back again and contemplated the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each orator was illuminated by a naphtha &ldquo;flare,&rdquo; which, being held in
+      unsteady hands, flickered and wavered, casting strange gleams of light
+      over the evil faces upturned towards it. At times one speaker would
+      succeed in raising a laugh or extracting a groan, and when he did so those
+      listening to his rivals turned and surged towards him. There was plenty of
+      movement. It was what the newspapers call an animated scene&mdash;or a
+      disgraceful scene&mdash;according to their political bias.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot could not hear the jokes nor distinguish the cause of
+      the groaning. But he did not seem to mind much. The speeches were not of
+      the description to be given in full in the morning papers. There were,
+      fortunately, no reporters present. It was the frank eloquence of the
+      slaughter-house&mdash;the unclad humour of the market.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly one of the women&mdash;she who was posted at the southern end of
+      the street&mdash;raised both her arms, and the Citizen leant far out of
+      the window. He was very eager, and his hawk-like eyes blinked perpetually.
+      His hand was raised to his mouth, and the lights of the orators gleamed on
+      something that he held in his fingers&mdash;something that looked like
+      silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman held her two arms straight up into the air for some moments,
+      then she suddenly crossed them twice, turning at the same moment and
+      scrambling over the barricade. A long shrill whistle rang out over the
+      heads of the mob, and its effect was almost instantaneous. The &ldquo;flares&rdquo;
+       disappeared like magic. Dark figures swarmed up the lamp-posts and
+      extinguished the feeble lights. The voice of the orator was still. Silence
+      and darkness reigned over that insignificant little street on the southern
+      side of the Seine. Then came the clatter of cavalry&mdash;the rattle of
+      horses' feet, and the ominous clank of empty scabbards against spur and
+      buckle. A word of command, and a scrambling halt. Then silence again,
+      broken only by the shuffling of feet (not too well clad) in the darkness
+      between the barricades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot leant recklessly out of the window, peering into the
+      gloom. He forgot to make use of the delicately scented pocket-handkerchief
+      now, and the drops of perspiration trickled slowly down his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The soldiers shuffled in their saddles. Some of the spirited little Arabs
+      pawed the pavement. One of them squealed angrily, and there was a slight
+      commotion somewhere in the rear ranks&mdash;an equine difference of
+      opinion. The officers had come forward to the barricade and were
+      consulting together. The question was&mdash;what was there behind that
+      barricade? It might be nothing&mdash;it might be everything. In Paris one
+      can never tell. At last one of them determined to see for himself. He
+      scrambled up, putting his foot through the window of an omnibus in
+      passing. Against the dim light of the street-lamp beyond, his slight,
+      straight figure stood out in bold relief. It was a splendid mark for a man
+      with chalked sights to his rifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; muttered the Citizen, &ldquo;you are all right this time&mdash;master, the
+      young officer. They are only barking. Next time perhaps it will be quite
+      another history.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer turned and disappeared. After the lapse of a few moments a
+      dozen words of command were shouted, and upon them followed the sharp
+      click of hilt on scabbard as the sabres fell home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause it became evident that the barricade was being destroyed.
+      And then lights flashed here and there. In a compact column the cavalry
+      advanced at a trot. The street was empty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Citizen Morot turned away and sat down on a chair that happened to be
+      placed near the window. His finely-drawn eyebrows were raised with a
+      questioning weariness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty work!&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;Pretty work for&mdash;my father's son! So
+      grand, so open, so noble!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited there, in the darkness, until the cavalry had been withdrawn and
+      the local firemen were at work upon the barricade. Then, when order was
+      fully restored, he left the house, walking quietly down the length of the
+      insignificant little street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten minutes later he entered the tobacco-shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe.
+      Mr. Jacquetot was at his post, behind the counter near the window, with
+      the little tin box containing postage-stamps in front of him upon his
+      desk. He was always there&mdash;like the poor. He laid aside the <i>Petit
+      Journal</i> and wished the new-comer a courteous, though breathless, good
+      evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The salutation was returned gravely and pleasantly. The Citizen Morot
+      lingered a moment and remarked that it was a warm evening. He never seemed
+      to be in a hurry. Then he passed on into the little room behind the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There he found Lerac, the foreman of the slaughter-house. The butcher was
+      pale with excitement. His rough clothing was dishevelled; his stringy
+      black hair stood up uncouthly in the centre of his head, while over his
+      temples it was plastered down with perspiration and suet pleasingly
+      mingled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he exclaimed, with triumphant interrogation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Morot. &ldquo;Very good. It marches, my friend. It marches
+      already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! But you are right. The People see you&mdash;it is a power!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; acquiesced Morot fervently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How he hated this man!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you stayed to the last?&rdquo; inquired Lerac. He was rather white about
+      the lips for a brave man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Till the last,&rdquo; echoed Morot, taking up some letters addressed to him
+      which lay on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the street was quite clear before they broke through the barrier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite&mdash;the People did not wait.&rdquo; He seemed to resign himself to
+      conversation, for he put the letters into his pocket and sat down. &ldquo;Had
+      you,&rdquo; he inquired, &ldquo;any difficulty in getting them away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; somewhat loftily and quite unsuspicious of irony. &ldquo;The passages
+      were narrow, of course; but we had allowed for that in our organisation.
+      Organisation and the People, see you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Morot. &ldquo;Organisation and the People.&rdquo; Like Lerac, he
+      stopped short, apparently lost in the contemplation of the vast
+      possibilities presented to his mental vision by the mere thought of such a
+      combination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; exclaimed the butcher energetically, &ldquo;I must move on. I have
+      meetings. I merely wished to hear from you that all was right&mdash;that
+      no one was caught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was bubbling over with excitement and the sense of his own huge
+      importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot raised his secretive eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night,&rdquo; he said, with an insolence far too fine for the butcher's
+      comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;good-night. We may congratulate ourselves, I think, Citizen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I congratulate you,&rdquo; said Morot. &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is probable that, had Lerac looked back, there would have been murder
+      done in the small room behind the tobacco-shop. But the contemptuous smile
+      soon vanished from the face of the Citizen Morot. No smile lingered there
+      long. It was not built upon smiling lines at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he took up his letters. There were only two of them: one bearing the
+      postmark of a small town in Morbihan, the other hailing from England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He replaced the first in his pocket unread; the second he opened. It was
+      written in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are difficulties,&rdquo; it said. &ldquo;Can you come to me? Cross from
+      Cherbourg to Southampton&mdash;train from thence to this place, and ask
+      for Signor Bruno, an Italian refugee, living at the house of Mrs. Potter,
+      a <i>ci-devant</i> laundress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Citizen Morot rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the back of his hand,
+      making a sharp, grating sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That old man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is getting past his work. He is losing nerve;
+      and nerve is a thing that we cannot afford to lose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to the letter again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed suddenly; &ldquo;St. Mary Western. He is there&mdash;how very
+      strange. What a singular coincidence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He fell into a reverie with the letter before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carew is dead&mdash;but still I can manage it. Perhaps it is just as well
+      that he is dead. I was always afraid of Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he wrote a letter, which he addressed to &ldquo;Signor Bruno, care of Mrs.
+      Potter, St. Mary Western, Dorset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall come,&rdquo; he wrote, &ldquo;but not in the way you suggest. I have a better
+      plan. You must not know me when we meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He purchased a twenty-five centime stamp from Mr. Jacquetot, and posted
+      the letter with his own hand in the little wall-box at the corner of the
+      Rue St. Gingolphe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII. FALSE METAL
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There was, however, no cricket for Stanley Carew that morning. When they
+      came within sight of the house Mrs. Carew emerged from an open window
+      carrying several letters in her hand. She was not hurrying, but walking
+      leisurely, reading a letter as she walked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think, Hilda dear,&rdquo; she said, with as much surprise as she ever
+      allowed herself. &ldquo;I have had a letter from the Vicomte d'Audierne. You
+      remember him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl; &ldquo;I remember him, of course. He is not the sort of
+      man one forgets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always liked the Viscount,&rdquo; said Mrs. Carew, pensively looking at the
+      letter she held in her hand. &ldquo;He was a good friend to us at one time. I
+      never understood him, and I like men whom one does not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered vaguely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father admired him tremendously,&rdquo; Mrs. Carew went on to say. &ldquo;He
+      said that he was one of the cleverest men in France, but that he had
+      fallen in a wrong season, and would not adapt himself. Had France been a
+      monarchy, the Vicomte d'Audierne would have been in a very different
+      position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott did not open his own letters. He seemed to be interested in the
+      conversation of these ladies. He was not a reserved man, but a secretive,
+      which is quite a different thing. Reserve is natural&mdash;it comes
+      unbidden, and often unwelcome. Secretiveness is born of circumstances.
+      Some men find it imperative to cultivate it, although their soul revolts
+      within them. In professional or social matters it is often merely an
+      expediency&mdash;in some cases it almost feels like a crime. There are
+      some secrets which cannot be divulged; there are some deceptions which a
+      certain book-keeper will record upon the credit side of our account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like most young men who have got on in their calling, Christian Vellacott
+      held his career in great respect. He felt that any sacrifice made for it
+      carried its own reward. He thought that it levelled scruples and justified
+      deceptions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew this Vicomte d'Audierne by reputation; he wished to hear more of
+      him; and so he feigned ignorance&mdash;listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has he written about?&rdquo; inquired Hilda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To ask if he may come and see us. I suppose he means to come and stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott looked what the French call &ldquo;contraried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On Monday week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Mrs. Carew turned to her other letters. Vellacott took the budget
+      addressed to him, and walked away to where an iron table and some chairs
+      stood in the shade of a deodar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes he looked still more put out. He had learnt of the
+      disturbances in Paris, and was reading a rather panic-stricken letter from
+      Mr. Bodery. The truth was that there was no one in the office of the <i>Beacon</i>
+      who knew anything whatever about French home politics but Christian
+      Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A continuance of these disturbances would necessarily assume political
+      importance, and might even lead to a crisis. This meant an instant recall
+      for Vellacott. In a crisis his presence in London or Paris was absolutely
+      necessary to the <i>Beacon</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His holiday had barely lasted twenty-four hours, and there was already a
+      question of recall. It happened also that within that short space a
+      considerable change had come over Vellacott. The subtle influence of a
+      country life, and possibly the low, peaceful song of the distant sea, were
+      already beginning to make themselves felt. He actually detected a desire
+      to sit still and do nothing&mdash;a feeling of which he had not hitherto
+      been conscious. He was distinctly averse to leaving St. Mary Western just
+      yet. But there is one task-master who knows no mercy and makes no
+      allowances. Some of us who serve him know it to our cost, and yet we would
+      be content to serve no other. That task-master is the Public.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott was a public servant, and he knew his position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhat later in the morning Molly and Hilda found him still seated at
+      the table, writing with that concentrated rapidity which only comes with
+      practice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; he said, looking up, &ldquo;but I must send off a telegram. I
+      shall walk in to the station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just coming,&rdquo; said Hilda, &ldquo;to ask if you would drive me in. I want
+      to get some things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; added Molly, &ldquo;there are some domestic commissions&mdash;butcher,
+      baker, &amp;c.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott expressed his entire satisfaction with the arrangement, and by
+      the time he had finished his letter the dog-cart was waiting at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several of the family were standing round the vehicle talking in a
+      desultory manner, and Vellacott learnt then for the first time that
+      Frederick Farrar had left home that same morning to attend a midland
+      race-meeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one of those brilliant summer days when it is quite impossible to
+      be pessimistic and exceedingly difficult to compass preoccupation. The
+      light breeze bowling over the upland from the sea had just sufficient
+      strength to blow away all mental cobwebs. Also, Christian Vellacott had
+      suddenly given way to one of those feelings which sometimes come to us
+      without apparent reason. The present was joyous enough without the aid of
+      the ever-to-be-bright future, and Vellacott felt that, after all, French
+      politics and Frederick Farrar did not quite monopolise the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was on this occasion more talkative than usual. There was in her
+      manner a new sense of ease, almost of familiarity, which Vellacott could
+      not understand. He noticed that she spoke invariably in generalities,
+      avoiding all personal matters. Of herself she said no word, though she
+      appeared willing enough to answer any question he might ask. She led him
+      on to talk of himself and his work, listening gravely to his account of
+      the little household at Chelsea. He made the best of this topic, and even
+      treated it in a merry vein; but her smile, though sincere enough, was of
+      short duration and not in itself encouraging. She appeared to see the
+      pathos of it instead of the humour. Suddenly, in the middle of a
+      particularly funny story about Aunt Judith, she interrupted him and
+      changed the conversation entirely. She did not again refer to his home
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were returning in the full glare of the midday sun, they descried
+      in front of them the figure of an old man; he was walking painfully and
+      making poor progress. Carefully dressed in black broadcloth, he wore a
+      soft felt hat of a shape seldom seen in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Hilda, as they approached him, &ldquo;that is Signor Bruno.
+      Yes, it is. Please pull up, Christian. We must give him a lift!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obeyed her. He thought he detected a shade of annoyance in
+      Hilda's voice, with which he fully sympathised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On hearing the sound of the wheels, the old man looked up in surprise, as
+      a deaf person might have been expected to do. This movement showed a most
+      charming old face, surrounded by a halo of white hair and beard. The
+      features were almost perfect, and might in former days have been a trifle
+      cold, by reason of their perfection. Now, however, they were softened by
+      the touch of years, and Signor Bruno was the living semblance of
+      guilelessness and benevolence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Signor Bruno?&rdquo; said Hilda, speaking rather loudly and very
+      distinctly. &ldquo;You are back from London sooner than you expected, are you
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my dear young lady,&rdquo; he replied, courteously removing his hat and
+      standing bareheaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London&mdash;a
+      most terrible place&mdash;terrible&mdash;terrible&mdash;terrible! As I
+      walked along just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are
+      blue; yonder is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.'
+      This is Italy, Miss Hilda&mdash;Italy with a northern fairy walking in
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before the
+      old gentleman recovered his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor
+      Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had
+      alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart.
+      When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed upon
+      his face with a quiet persistence which might have been embarrassing to a
+      younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something unintelligible in
+      reply to the Italian's extensive salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, as he
+      replaced his picturesque hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then
+      came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she
+      should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the sign,
+      and said urbanely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!&rdquo; said Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's
+      guest, and I&mdash;I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed
+      to back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr.
+      Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a
+      peculiar self-abnegating humour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to
+      see why you should sit in front!&rdquo; said Christian with a laugh, which
+      although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. &ldquo;There you have
+      worsted me. After that I am silent, and&mdash;I obey!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness of
+      his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until the
+      village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the gate
+      of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was
+      re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and
+      Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various
+      local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor
+      Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Christian quietly. &ldquo;He seems very nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as if
+      to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his face,
+      which was not expressive of anything in particular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she said gravely, &ldquo;you do not like him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he
+      seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at her
+      grave face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Not very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed and shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;How can there be anything wrong with him&mdash;anything
+      that would affect us, at all events?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He says he is an Italian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say he is a Frenchman,&rdquo; said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
+      &ldquo;Italians do not talk English as he talks it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know him?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
+      somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it will
+      come to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When it does come,&rdquo; said Hilda, with a smile, &ldquo;you will find that it is
+      some one else. I can assure you Signor Bruno is an Italian, and beyond
+      that he is the nicest old gentleman imaginable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Christian. &ldquo;In the meantime I vote that we do not trouble
+      ourselves about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The subject was dropped, and not again referred to until after they had
+      reached home, when Hilda informed her mother that Signor Bruno had
+      returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I am very glad. You must ask him to dinner
+      to-morrow evening. Is he not a nice old man, Christian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very,&rdquo; replied Christian, almost before the words were out of her lips.
+      &ldquo;Yes, very nice.&rdquo; He looked across the table towards Hilda with an
+      absolutely expressionless composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the following day, which he passed with Sidney and Stanley at sea
+      in a little cutter belonging to the Carews, Christian learnt, without
+      asking many questions, all that Signor Bruno had vouchsafed in the way of
+      information respecting himself. It was a short story and an old one, such
+      as many a white-haired Italian could tell to-day. A life, income, and
+      energy devoted to a cause which never had much promise of reward. Failure,
+      exile, and a life closing in a land where the blue skies of Italy are
+      known only by name, where Maraschino is at a premium, and long black
+      cigars almost unobtainable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was engaged on this day to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mrs.
+      Farrar, at Farrar Court. Molly and Christian were to drive over for her in
+      the evening. This programme was carried out, but the young people lingered
+      rather longer at Farrar Court listening to the quaint, old-world
+      recollections of its white-haired hostess than was allowed for.
+      Consequently they were late, and heard the first dinner-bell ringing as
+      they drove up the lane that led in a casual way to their home. (This lane
+      was characteristic of the house. It turned off unobtrusively from the high
+      road at right angles with the evident intention of leading nowhere.) A
+      race upstairs ensued and a hurried toilet. Molly and Christian met on the
+      stairs a few minutes later. Christian had won the race, for he was ready,
+      while Molly struggled with a silver necklace that fitted closely round her
+      throat. Of course he had to help her. While waiting patiently for him to
+      master the intricacies of the old silver clasp, Molly said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christian, there is one place you have not seen yet. Quite close at
+      hand too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye&mdash;es,&rdquo; he replied absently, as he at length fixed the clasp.
+      &ldquo;There, it is done!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he held open the drawing-room door, he said: &ldquo;What is the place I have
+      to see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno, who was seated at the far end of the room with Mrs. Carew,
+      rose as he heard the door opened, and advanced to meet Molly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Porton Abbey,&rdquo; she said over her shoulder as she advanced into the room.
+      &ldquo;You must see Porton Abbey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian shook hands with the new-comers and made a clever, laughing
+      reference to Christian's politeness of the previous day. At this moment
+      Hilda entered, and as soon as she had returned Signor Bruno's courteous
+      salutation Molly turned towards her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hilda,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we have never shown Christian Porton Abbey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I have been reserving it for some afternoon when we
+      do not feel very energetic. Unfortunately, we cannot get inside the Abbey
+      now, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Christian, without looking towards Hilda. He had discovered
+      that Signor Bruno was attempting to keep up a conversation with his
+      hostess, while he took in that which was passing at the other end of the
+      room. The old man was seated, and his face was within the radius of light
+      cast by a shaded lamp. Christian, who stood, was in the shade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is a French monastery,&rdquo; replied Molly. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;is
+      a flower for your coat, as you say the button-hole is warped by constant
+      pinning in of stalks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; he replied, stooping a little in order that she could reach the
+      button-hole of his coat. She was in front of him, directly between him and
+      Signor Bruno; but he could see over her head. &ldquo;What sort of monastery is
+      it?&rdquo; he continued conversationally. &ldquo;I did not know that there were any
+      establishments of that sort in England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda looked up rather sharply from an illustrated newspaper she happened
+      to be studying. She knew that he was not adhering strictly to the truth.
+      From her point of vantage behind the newspaper she continued to watch
+      Christian, and she realised during the minutes that followed, that this
+      was indeed the brilliant young journalist of whose fame Farrar had spoken
+      as already known in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno's conversation with Mrs. Carew became at this moment somewhat
+      muddled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see,&rdquo; said Molly vivaciously, &ldquo;we endeavour to interest him by
+      retailing the simple annals of our neighbourhood, and his highness simply
+      disbelieves us!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; Christian hastened to add, with a laugh. &ldquo;It simply happened
+      that I was surprised. It shall not occur again. But tell me, what sort of
+      monastery is it? Dominican? Franciscan? Carmelite?&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, goodness! I do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Christian, advancing towards the Italian&mdash;&ldquo;perhaps
+      Signor Bruno can tell us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, Mr. Vell'cott?&rdquo; asked the old gentleman, making a movement
+      as if about to raise his curved hand to his ear, but restraining himself
+      upon second thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda noticed that, instead of raising his voice, Christian spoke in the
+      same tone, or even lower, as he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We want some details of the establishment at Porton Abbey, Signor Bruno.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman made a little grimace expressive of disgust, at the same
+      time spreading out his hands as if to ward off something hurtful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ach!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do not ask me. I know nothing of such people, and wish to
+      learn no more. It is to them that my poor country owes her downfall. No,
+      no; leave them alone. I always take care of myself against&mdash;against&mdash;what
+      you say&mdash;<i>ces gens-là</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian awaited the answer in polite silence, and, when Signor Bruno had
+      again turned to Mrs. Carew, he looked across the room towards Hilda with
+      the same expression of vacant composure that she had noticed on a previous
+      occasion. The accent with which Signor Bruno had spoken the few words of
+      French was of the purest Parisian, entirely free from the harshness which
+      an Italian rarely conquers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Hilda went out of the open window into the garden alone.
+      Christian, who had seated himself at a small table in the drawing-room,
+      did not move. Sidney and his mother were talking with the Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young journalist was stooping over a book, a vase of flowers stood in
+      front of him, but by the movement of his arm it appeared as if he were
+      drawing instead of reading. Presently a faint, low whistle came from the
+      garden. Though soft, the sound was very clear, and each note distinctly
+      given. It was like the beginning of a refrain which broke off suddenly and
+      was repeated. Signor Bruno gave a little start and a quick upward glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; he asked, with a little laugh, as if at the delicacy of
+      his own nerves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Carew, &ldquo;the whistle, you mean. That is our family
+      signal. The children were in the habit of calling each other by that means
+      in bygone years. I expect they are in the garden now, and wish us to join
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew knew that Molly was not in the garden, but in making this
+      intentional mistake she showed the wisdom of her kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, &ldquo;that the air&mdash;the refrain, one
+      might call it&mdash;is familiar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott smiled suddenly behind his screen of flowers, but did
+      not move or look up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect,&rdquo; explained Sidney, &ldquo;that you have heard the air played upon the
+      bugle. It is the French 'retraite,' played by the patrol in garrison towns
+      at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Christian had cut the fly-leaf from the book before him,
+      and, after carefully folding it, he placed the paper in his breast-pocket.
+      Then he rose and passed out of the open window into the garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately Signor Bruno asked his hostess a few polite questions
+      regarding her guest&mdash;what was his occupation, how long he was going
+      to stay, and whether she did not agree with him in considering that their
+      young friend had a remarkably interesting face. In the course of his
+      remarks the old gentleman rose and crossed to the table where Christian
+      had been sitting. There was a flower there which he had not seen in
+      England before. Absently he took up the book which Christian had just been
+      studying, and very naturally turned to the title-page. The fly-leaf was
+      gone! When he laid the volume down again he replaced it in the identical
+      position in which he had found it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX. A CLUE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Christian left the drawing-room he walked quickly down the moss-grown
+      path to the moat. Hilda was standing at the edge of the dark water, and as
+      he joined her she turned and walked slowly by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a most unsatisfactory person,&rdquo; she said gravely after a few
+      moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked down at her without replying. His eyes softened for a moment
+      into a smile, but his lips remained grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You deliberately set yourself,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;to shatter one illusion
+      after another. You have made me feel quite old and worldly to-night, and
+      the worst of it is that you are invariably right. It is most annoying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice was only half-playful. There was a shade of sadness in it.
+      Christian must have divined her thoughts, for he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not let us quarrel over Signor Bruno. I dare say I am wrong
+      altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked slowly round. Her eyes rested on the dark surface of the water,
+      where the shadows lay deep and still; then she raised them to the trees,
+      clearly outlined against the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that such practical, matter-of-fact people as you are proof
+      against mere outward influences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I used to imagine, but I am beginning to find that outward things are
+      very important after all. In London it seemed only natural that every one
+      should live in a hurry, with no time for thought, pushing forward and
+      trying to outstrip their neighbours; but in the country it seems that
+      things are different. Intellectual people live quiet, thoughtful, and even
+      dreamy lives. They get through somehow without seeing the necessity for
+      doing something&mdash;trying to be something that their neighbours cannot
+      be&mdash;and no doubt they are happier for it. I am beginning to see how
+      they are content to go on with their uneventful lives from year to year
+      until the end even comes without a shock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you yourself would never reach that stage, Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Hilda. I can understand it in others, but for me it is different.
+      I have tasted too deeply of the other life. I should get restless&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are getting restless already,&rdquo; she interrupted gravely, &ldquo;and you have
+      not been here two days!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were interrupted by Sidney's clear whistle, and a moment later Molly
+      came tripping down the path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come along in,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;the old gentleman is going. I was just
+      stealing away to join you when Sidney whistled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Signor Bruno reached his home that evening, he threw his hat upon the
+      table with some considerable force. His aged landlady, having left the
+      lamp burning, had retired to bed. He sank into an armchair, and
+      contemplated the square toes of his own boots for some moments. Then he
+      scratched his head thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sacré nom d'un chien!&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;where have I seen that face before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno spoke French when soliloquising, which was perhaps somewhat
+      peculiar for an Italian. However proficient a man may be in the mastery of
+      foreign tongues, he usually dreams and talks to himself in the language he
+      learnt at his mother's knee. He may count fluently in a strange tongue,
+      but he invariably works out all mental arithmetic in his own. Likewise he
+      prays&mdash;if he pray at all&mdash;in one tongue only. On the other hand,
+      it appears very easy to swear in an acquired language. Probably our
+      forefathers borrowed each other's expletives when things went so
+      lamentably wrong over the Tower of Babel. Still muttering to himself,
+      Signor Bruno presently retired to rest with the remembrance of a young
+      face, peculiarly and unpleasantly strong, haunting his dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shortly after Signor Bruno's departure, Christian happened to be left
+      alone in the drawing room with Hilda. He promptly produced from his pocket
+      the leaf he had cut from a book earlier in the evening. Unfolding the
+      paper, he handed it to her, and said:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you recognise that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at it, and answered without hesitation&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drawing was slight, but the likeness was perfect. The face was in
+      profile, and the reproduction of the intelligent features could scarcely
+      have been more lifelike in a careful portrait. Christian replaced the
+      paper in his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;his father belonged
+      to the Austrian Embassy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the envelope
+      the name that you will find inside&mdash;written by Trevetz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression of
+      wonder upon her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even if you are right,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;will it affect us? Will it make us
+      cease to look upon him as a friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; she said slowly, &ldquo;it has come. You remember now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I remember now&mdash;but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather
+      have my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know&mdash;or
+      think I know&mdash;about Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and
+      the subject was perforce dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It was
+      short, and not very pleasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR VELLACOTT,&mdash;Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your
+      holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see
+      from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in
+      the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they
+      were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded
+      by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained,
+      but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present
+      somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to us,
+      as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge of
+      French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject.
+      Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course, he
+      is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that there is
+      plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong party has
+      got up the whole affair&mdash;perhaps the Church. We must have something
+      to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in view I must
+      ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on receipt of a
+      telegram or letter from me.&mdash;Yours,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;C. C. BODERY.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly his
+      attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim round
+      the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the paper.
+      The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If Mr.
+      Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace would
+      have been left upon the envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw
+      that his movements had passed unobserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything new?&rdquo; asked Sidney, from the head of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;There has been a disturbance in Paris. I may
+      have to go over there on receipt of a telegram from the office;&rdquo; he
+      stopped, and looked slowly round the table. Hilda's attention was taken up
+      by her plate, upon which, however, there was nothing. He leant forward,
+      and handed her the toast-rack. She took a piece, but forgot to thank him.
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; he continued simply, &ldquo;very sorry that the disturbances
+      should have taken place just at this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice expressed natural and sincere regret, but no surprise. This
+      seemed to arouse Molly's curiosity, for she looked up sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not seem to be at all surprised,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;I am accustomed to this sort of thing, you see. I knew
+      all along that there was the chance of being summoned at any time. This
+      letter only adds to the chance&mdash;that is all!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great shame,&rdquo; said Molly, with a pout. &ldquo;I am sure there are
+      plenty of people who could do it instead of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed readily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure there are,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;and that is the very reason why I must
+      take the opportunities that fortune offers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda looked across the table at him, and noted the smile upon his lips,
+      the light of energy in his eyes. The love of action had driven all other
+      thoughts from his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; she said conversationally, &ldquo;that it will in reality be a good
+      thing for you if the summons does come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, without meeting her glance; &ldquo;it will be a good thing
+      for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that consolatory view of the matter the outcome of philosophy, or of
+      virtue?&rdquo; inquired Molly mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of virtue,&rdquo; replied Christian gravely, and then he changed the subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast he devoted a short time to the study of some newspaper
+      cuttings inclosed in Mr. Bodery's letter. Then he suddenly expressed his
+      determination of walking down to the village post office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to send a telegram, and to get some newspapers, which
+      have no doubt come by the second post. After that you will be troubled no
+      more about my affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until a telegram comes,&rdquo; said Hilda quietly, without looking up from a
+      letter she held in her hand. She received one daily from Farrar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian glanced at her with his quick smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I do not expect a telegram. It is not so serious as all
+      that. In fact, it is not worth thinking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a most enviable way of putting aside disagreeable subjects,&rdquo;
+       persisted Hilda, &ldquo;for discussion at a vague future period.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was steadily cheerful that morning, imperturbably practical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the outcome&mdash;not of virtue&mdash;but of
+      philosophy. Will you come to the post office with Stanley and me? I am
+      sure there is no possible household duty to prevent you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Together they walked through the peaceful fields. Stanley never lingered
+      long beside them; something was for ever attracting him aside or ahead,
+      and he ran restlessly away. Christian could not help noticing the
+      difference in Hilda's manner when they were alone together. The
+      semi-sarcastic <i>badinage</i> to which he had been treated lately was
+      completely dropped, and her earnest nature was allowed to show itself
+      undisguised. Still she was a mystery to him. He was by habit a close
+      observer, but her changing moods and humours were to him unaccountable. At
+      times she would make a remark the direct contradiction of which was
+      shining in her eyes, and at other times she remained silent when mere
+      politeness would seem to demand speech. Who knows? Perhaps at all times
+      and in all things they understood each other. When their lips were
+      exchanging mere nothings&mdash;the very lightest and emptiest of
+      conversational chaff&mdash;despite averted eyes, despite indifferent
+      manner, their souls may have been drawn together by that silent bond of
+      sympathy which holds through fair and foul, through laughter and tears,
+      through life and beyond death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was not in the habit of allowing himself to become absorbed by
+      any passing thoughts, however deep they might be. His mind had adapted
+      itself to the work required of it, as the human mind is ever ready to do.
+      No deep meditating was required of it, but a quick grasp and a somewhat
+      superficial treatment. Journalism is superficial, it cannot be otherwise;
+      it must be universal and immediate, and therefore its touch is necessarily
+      light. There is nothing permanent about it except the ceaseless throb of
+      the printing machine and the warm smell of ink. That which a man writes
+      one day may be rendered useless and worthless the next, through no
+      carelessness of his, but by the simple course of events. He must perforce
+      take up his pen again and write against himself. He may be inditing
+      history, and his words may be forgotten in twelve hours. There is no time
+      for deep thought, even if such were required. He who writes for cursory
+      reading is wise if he writes cursorily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery's communication in no manner disturbed Christian. He was ready
+      enough to talk and laugh, or talk and be grave, as Hilda might dictate,
+      while they walked side by side that morning, but she was strangely silent.
+      It thus happened that little passed between them until they reached the
+      post office. There, he was formally introduced to the spry little
+      postmistress, who looked at him sharply over her spectacles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish, Mrs. Chalder,&rdquo; he said cheerily, as he scribbled off his message
+      to Mr. Bodery, while Hilda made friendly overtures to the official cat, &ldquo;I
+      wish that you would forget to send me the disagreeable letters, and only
+      forward the pleasant ones. There was one this morning, for instance, which
+      you might very easily have mislaid. Instead of which you carefully sent it
+      rather earlier than usual and spoilt my breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice unconsciously followed the swing of his pencil. It seemed
+      certain that he was making conversation with the sole purpose of
+      entertaining the old woman. With a pleased laugh and a shake of her grey
+      curls she replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I wish I could, sir. I wish I could burn the bad letters and send on
+      only the good ones&mdash;but they're all alike on the outside. It's as
+      hard to say what's inside a letter as it is to tell what's inside a man by
+      lookin' on his face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Christian, reading over what he had just written. &ldquo;Yes,
+      Mrs. Chalder, you are right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the reason of your letter gettin' earlier this morning was that
+      Seen'yer Bruno said he was goin' past the Hall, sir, and would just leave
+      the letters at the Lodge. It is a bit out of the carrier's way, and that
+      man <i>do</i> have a long tramp every day, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that accounts for it,&rdquo; murmured the journalist, without looking up.
+      He was occupied in crossing his t's and dotting his i's. He felt that
+      Hilda was looking at him, and some instinct told him that she saw the
+      motive of his conversation, but still he played his part and wore his mask
+      of carelessness, as men have done before women, knowing the futility of
+      it, since the world began. She never referred to the incident, and made no
+      remark whatever with a view to his doing so, but he knew that it would be
+      remembered, and in after days he learnt to build up a very castle of hope
+      upon that frail foundation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda had not been paying much attention to what he was saying until
+      Signor Bruno's name was mentioned. The old man had hitherto occupied a
+      very secondary place in her thoughts. He was no one in her circle of
+      possibly interesting people, beyond the fact of his having passed through
+      a troubled political phase&mdash;a fighter on the losing side. Now he had,
+      as it were, assumed a more important <i>rôle</i>. The mention of his name
+      possessed a new suggestion: and all this, forsooth, because Christian
+      Vellacott opined that the benevolent old face was known to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to entertain exaggerated ideas concerning the young journalist's
+      thoughts and motives. Twice had she obtained a glimpse into the inner
+      chamber of his mind, and on each occasion the result had been a vague
+      suggestion of some mental conflict, some dark game of cross-purposes
+      between him and Signor Bruno. Remembering this, she, in her intelligent
+      simplicity, began to ascribe to Christian's every word and action an
+      ulterior motive which in reality did not perhaps exist. She noted
+      Christian's calm and direct way of reaching the end he desired, and
+      unconsciously she yielded a little to the influence of his strength&mdash;an
+      influence dangerously fascinating for a strong woman. Her strength is so
+      different from that of a man that there is no real conflict&mdash;it seeks
+      to yield, and glories over its own downfall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After paying for the telegram, Christian took possession of the bulky
+      packet of newspapers addressed to him, and they left the post office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X. ON THE SCENT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the
+      conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of
+      reviving it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; he began conversationally, &ldquo;is there any smuggling done now?
+      Real smuggling, I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I think not,&rdquo; replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon
+      smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you ask?&rdquo; interposed Hilda goodnaturedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was just wondering,&rdquo; replied the boy. &ldquo;It struck me yesterday
+      that our boat had been moved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; suggested Christian, &ldquo;it should be very easy to see whether it has
+      been dragged over the sand or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks
+      whatever on the sand,&rdquo; argued little Stanley, determined not to be cheated
+      out of his smugglers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and
+      enjoyment,&rdquo; suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was
+      saying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then how did he get the padlock open?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Smugglers, I suppose,&rdquo; said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother,
+      &ldquo;would be provided with skeleton keys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; replied Stanley in an awestruck tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you what we will do, Stanley,&rdquo; said Christian. &ldquo;To-morrow
+      morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the
+      boat and tell you whether it has been moved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; added Hilda, &ldquo;a telegram comes today.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; he said gravely, &ldquo;the world comes to an end this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation, that
+      Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened the
+      flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper, and Mr.
+      Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the closely-written sheets
+      upon which his hand was resting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is from Vellacott,&rdquo; said the editor, and after a moment's thought he
+      read aloud as follows:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the
+      whole affair. Will write particulars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That young man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;goes about the world with his eyes remarkably
+      wide open, ha-ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not be
+      delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same
+      afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak
+      tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the south-west,
+      obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle breeze blew gaily
+      across the bleak upland&mdash;a very different breath from that which
+      twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not care about climbing <i>down</i> there, I should think,&rdquo;
+       observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. &ldquo;It is a very different
+      matter getting up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing, gazing lazily up at the brown cliffs with his straw hat
+      tilted backwards, his hands in his pockets, and his whole person
+      presenting as fair a picture as one could desire of lazy, quiescent
+      strength&mdash;a striking contrast to the nervous, wiry townsman at his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly,&rdquo; replied Christian, gazing upwards at the dizzy height. &ldquo;It is
+      rather nasty stuff&mdash;slippery in parts and soft.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and strolled off by Hilda's side. With a climber's love of a
+      rocky height he looked upwards as they walked, and she noted the direction
+      of his gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they sat on the edge of the boat over which Stanley's sense of
+      proprietorship had been so grievously outraged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know, Christian, or what do you suspect about Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+       asked Hilda suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stanley was running across the sands towards them, and Christian, seeing
+      his approach, avoided the question by a generality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a little longer,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Let me have Trevetz's answer to confirm
+      my suspicions, and then I will tell you. Suspicions are dangerous things
+      to meddle with. In imparting them to other people it is so difficult to
+      remember that they <i>are</i> suspicions and nothing more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Stanley arrived and threw himself down breathlessly on the
+      warm sand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chris!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;come down here and look at these seams in the boat&mdash;the
+      damp is there still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boat was clinker-built, and where the planks overlapped a slight
+      appearance of dampness was certainly discernible. Christian lay lazily
+      leaning upon his elbow, sometimes glancing at the boat in obedience to
+      Stanley's accusatory finger, sometimes looking towards Hilda, whose eyes
+      were turned seawards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he caught sight of some words pencilled on the stern-post of the
+      boat, and by the merest chance refrained from calling Stanley's attention
+      to them. Drawing nearer, he could read them easily enough.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Minuit vingt-six.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It certainly looks,&rdquo; he said rising, &ldquo;as if the boat had been in the
+      water, but it may be that the dampness is merely owing to heavy dew. The
+      boat wants painting, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew well enough that little Stanley's suspicions were correct. There
+      was no doubt that the boat had been afloat quite recently; but Christian
+      knew his duty towards the <i>Beacon</i> and sacrificed his strict sense of
+      truth to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the way home he was somewhat pre-occupied&mdash;as much, that is to
+      say, as he was in the habit of allowing. The pencil scrawl supplied food
+      enough for conjectural thought. The writing was undoubtedly fresh, and
+      this was the 26th of the month. Some appointment was made for midnight by
+      the words pencilled on the boat, and the journalist determined that he
+      would be there to see. The question was, should he go alone? He watched
+      Sidney Carew walking somewhat heavily along in front of him, and decided
+      that he would not seek aid from that quarter. There was no time to
+      communicate with Mr. Bodery, so the only course open to him was to go by
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a vague manner he had connected the Jesuit party with the disturbances
+      in Paris and the importation of the English rifles wherewith the crowd had
+      been armed. The gay capital was at that time in the hands of the most
+      &ldquo;Provisional&rdquo; and uncertain Government imaginable, and the home politics
+      of France were completely disorganised. It was just the moment for the
+      Church party to attempt a retrieval of their lost power. The fire-arms had
+      been recognised by the English authorities as some of a pattern lately
+      discarded. They had been stored at Plymouth, awaiting shipment to the
+      colonies, where they were to be served out to the auxiliary forces, when
+      they had been cleverly removed. The robbery was not discovered until the
+      rifles were found in the hands of a Paris mob, still fresh and brutal from
+      the horrors of a long course of military law. Some of the more fiery of
+      the French journals boldly hinted that the English Government had secretly
+      sold the firearms with a view to their ultimate gain by the
+      disorganisation of France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian knew as much about affairs in Paris as most men. He was fully
+      aware that in the politics of a disturbed country a deed is either a crime
+      or a heroism according to circumstances, and he was wise enough to await
+      the course of events before thrusting his opinion down the public throat.
+      But now he felt that the crisis had supervened, and unwillingly he
+      recognised that it was not for him to be idle amidst those rapid events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These thoughts occupied his mind as he walked inland from the Cove, and
+      rendered his answers to Stanley's ceaseless flow of questions upon all
+      conceivable subjects somewhat vague and unreliable. Hilda was walking with
+      them, and divided with Christian the task of supplying her small brother
+      with varied information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were approaching the Hall, Christian discerned two figures upon
+      the smooth lawn, evidently coming towards them. At the same moment Stanley
+      perceived them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see Fred Farrar and Mr. Signor Bruno,&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian could not resist glancing over the little fellow's head towards
+      Hilda, though he knew that it was hardly a fair action. Hilda felt the
+      glance but betrayed no sign. She was looking straight in front of her with
+      no change of colour, no glad smile of welcome for her stalwart lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder why she never told me,&rdquo; thought Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he said, in an airy, conversational way: &ldquo;I did not know Farrar
+      was coming back so&mdash;so soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew that by this early return Farrar was missing an important day of
+      the race-meeting he had been attending, but did not think it necessary to
+      remark upon the fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Hilda. &ldquo;He does not like to leave his mother for many days
+      together.&rdquo; The acutest ears could have detected no lowering of the voice,
+      no tenderness of thought. She was simply stating a fact; but she might
+      have been speaking of Signor Bruno, so cool and unembarrassed was her
+      tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad he is back,&rdquo; said Christian thoughtlessly. It was a mere
+      stop-gap. The silence was awkward, but he possessed tact enough to have
+      broken it by some better means. Instantly he recognised his mistake, and
+      for a moment he felt as if he were stumbling blindfold through an unknown
+      country. He experienced a sudden sense of vacuity as if his mind were a
+      blank and all words futile. It was now Stanley's turn to break the
+      silence, and unconsciously he did it very well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said speculatively, &ldquo;whether he has brought any chocolate
+      creams?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed, and the smile was still hovering in her eyes when she
+      greeted the two men. Stanley ran on into the house to open a parcel which
+      Farrar told him was awaiting inspection. It was only natural that Hilda
+      should walk on with the young squire, leaving Bruno and Christian
+      together. The old man lingered obviously, and his companion took the hint
+      readily enough, anticipating some enjoyment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To you, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; said the Italian, with senile geniality, &ldquo;to you
+      whose life is spent in London this must be very charming, very peaceful,
+      and&mdash;very disorganising, I may perhaps add.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked at his companion with grave attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very enjoyable,&rdquo; he replied simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno mentally trimmed his sails, and started off on another tack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our young friends,&rdquo; he said, indicating with a wave of his expressive
+      hand Hilda and Farrar, &ldquo;are admirably suited to each other. Both young,
+      both handsome, and both essentially English.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian, with a polite display of interest: &ldquo;and,
+      nevertheless, the Carews were all brought up and educated in France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; observed the old man, stopping to raise the head of a &ldquo;Souvenir de
+      Malmaison,&rdquo; of which he inhaled the odour with evident pleasure. The
+      little ejaculation, and its accompanying action, were admirably calculated
+      to leave the hearer in doubt as to whether mere surprise was expressed or
+      polite acquiescence in the statement of a known fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; added Christian, deliberately. He also stooped and raised a white
+      rose to his face, thus meeting Signor Bruno upon his own ground. The
+      Italian looked up, and the two men smiled at each other across the rose
+      bush; then they turned and walked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You also know France?&rdquo; hazarded Signor Bruno.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; if I were not an Englishman I should choose to be a Frenchman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now with me,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno frankly, &ldquo;it is different. If I were not
+      an Italian (which God forbid!) I think&mdash;I think, yes, I am sure, I
+      would by choice have been born an Englishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; observed Christian gravely, and Signor Bruno turned sharply to
+      glance at his face. The young Englishman was gazing straight in front of
+      him earnestly, with no suspicion upon his lips of the incredulous smile
+      which seemed somehow to have lurked there when he last spoke. The Italian
+      turned away dissatisfied, and they walked on a few paces in silence, until
+      he spoke again, reflectively:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is a quality in the English character which to me
+      is very praiseworthy. It is a certain directness of purpose. You know what
+      you wish to do, and you proceed calmly to do it, without stopping to
+      consider what your neighbours may think of it. Now with the Gallic races&mdash;for
+      I take this virtue of straightforwardness as Teutonic&mdash;and in my own
+      country especially, men seek to gain their ends by less open means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were now walking up a gentle incline to the house, which was built
+      upon the buried ruins of its ancient predecessor, and Signor Bruno was
+      compelled to pause in order to gain breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; interposed Christian softly, &ldquo;you are now talking not so much of
+      the people as of the Church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Italian looked sharply up, and this time he met his companion's
+      eyes fixed quietly on his face. He shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly
+      and spread out his delicate hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right,&rdquo; he said, with engaging frankness. &ldquo;I am afraid
+      you are. But you must excuse a little ill-feeling in a man such as I, with
+      a past such as mine has been, and loving his country as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; continued Christian, &ldquo;that foreigners find our bluntness
+      very disagreeable and difficult to meet; but I know that they frequently
+      misjudge us on the same account. It is to our benefit, so we cannot
+      complain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what way do we misjudge you?&rdquo; asked Signor Bruno genially. They were
+      almost on the threshold of the drawing-room window, which stood invitingly
+      open, and from which came the sounds of cups and saucers being mated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You give us credit for less intelligence than we in reality possess,&rdquo;
+       said Christian with a smile, as he stood aside to let his companion pass
+      in first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever influences may have been at work among those congregated at the
+      Hall during the half-hour or so occupied by afternoon tea, no sign
+      appeared upon the surface. Molly as usual led the chorus of laughter.
+      Hilda smiled her sweet &ldquo;kittenish&rdquo; smile. Signor Bruno surpassed himself
+      in the relation of innocent little tales, told with a true southern
+      &ldquo;verve&rdquo; and spirit, while Fred Farrar's genial laugh filled in the
+      interstices reliably. Grave and unobtrusive, Christian moved about among
+      them. He saw when Molly wanted the hot water, and was invariably the first
+      to detect an empty cup. He laughed softly at Signor Bruno's stories, and
+      occasionally capped them with a better, related in a conciser and equally
+      humorous manner. It was to him that Farrar turned for an encouraging
+      acquiescence when one of his latest Newmarket anecdotes threatened to fall
+      flat, and with it all he found time for an occasional spar with Signor
+      Bruno, just by way of keeping that inquiring gentleman upon his guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI. BURY BLUFF
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As Christian walked rapidly across the uneven turf towards the sea at
+      midnight, his thoughts were divided between a schoolboy delight in the
+      adventurous nature of his expedition and an uncomfortable sensation of
+      surreptitiousness. He was not accustomed to this sort of work, and felt
+      remarkably like a thief. If by some mischance his absence was discovered
+      at the Hall, it would be difficult to account for it unless he played the
+      part of a temporary lunatic. Fortunately his window communicated easily
+      enough with the garden by means of a few stone steps, but visitors are not
+      usually in the habit of leaving their bedrooms in order to take the air at
+      midnight. Thinking over these things in his rapid and rather superficial
+      way, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The night was clear and starlit; the air soft and very pleasant, with a
+      faint breath of freshness from the south-west. The moon, being well upon
+      the wane, would not rise for an hour or more, but the heavens were glowing
+      with the gentler light of stars, and on earth the darkness was of that
+      transparent description which sailors prefer to the brightest moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott had worked out most problems in life for himself.
+      Taken as a whole, his solutions had been fairly successful&mdash;as
+      successful as those of most men. If his views upon things in general were
+      rather photographic&mdash;that is to say, hard, with clearly defined
+      shadows&mdash;it was owing to his father's somewhat cynical training and
+      to the absence of a mother's influence. Elderly maiden ladies, with
+      sufficient time upon their hands to manage other people's affairs in
+      addition to their own, complained of his want of sympathy, which may be
+      read in the sense of stating that he neither sought theirs nor asked
+      advice upon questions connected with himself. This self-reliance was the
+      inevitable outcome of his life at home and at the office of the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      Admirable as it may be, independence can undoubtedly be carried to an
+      unpleasant excess&mdash;unpleasant that is for home life. Women love to
+      see their men-folk a trifle dependent upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was in the midst of a problem as he walked across the tableland
+      that stretched from St. Mary Western to the sea. That problem absorbed
+      more of his attention than the home politics of France; it required a more
+      careful study than any article he had ever penned for the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      It gave him greater anxiety than Aunt Judy and Aunt Hester combined. Yet
+      it was comprised in a single word. A single arm could encompass the whole
+      of it. The single word&mdash;Hilda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Leaving the narrow road, he presently struck the little pathway leading to
+      the Cove. Suddenly he stopped, and stood motionless. There&mdash;not
+      twenty yards from him&mdash;was the still figure of a man. Behind
+      Christian the land rose gradually to some considerable height, so that he
+      stood in darkness, while against the glowing sky the figure of this
+      watcher was clearly defined in hard outline. Instinctively crouching down
+      and seeking the covert of a few low bushes, Christian decreased the
+      intervening distance by a few yards. The faint hope that it might prove to
+      be a coastguard was soon dispelled. The heavy clothing and loose
+      thigh-boots were those of a fisherman. The huge &ldquo;cache-nez&rdquo; which lay in
+      coils upon his shoulders and completely protected the neck and throat, was
+      such as is worn by the natives of the Côtes-du-Nord.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sea boomed forth its melancholy song, far down in the black depths
+      beyond. The tide was high, and the breeze freshening every moment.
+      Christian could have crept up to the man's very feet without being
+      detected. Lying still upon the short, dry grass, he watched for some
+      moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the man's clumsy attitude it was almost possible to divine his slow,
+      mindless nature&mdash;for there is expression in the very turn of a man's
+      leg as he stands&mdash;and it was easy to see that he was guarding the
+      little path down the cliff to the Cove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been posted there, and evidently meant to stay till called away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one way, now, to the Cove, and that was down the face of
+      the cliff: the way that Christian had that very afternoon pronounced so
+      hazardous. By day it was dangerous enough; by night it was almost an
+      impossibility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He crept noiselessly along to the eastward, so that the watcher stood upon
+      the windward side of him, and reaching the brink he peered over into the
+      darkness. Of course he could discern nothing. The sea rose and fell with a
+      monotonous roar; overhead the stars twinkled as merrily as they have
+      twinkled over the strifes of men from century to century.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quietly he knelt upright and buttoned his coat with some care. Then
+      without a moment's hesitation he crept to the edge and cautiously
+      disappeared into the grim abyss of darkness. Slowly and laboriously he
+      worked his way down, feeling for each foothold in advance. Occasionally he
+      muttered impatiently to himself at the slowness of his progress. He knew
+      that the strata of soft sandstone trended downwards at an easy angle, and
+      with consummate skill took full advantage of his knowledge. Occasionally
+      he was forced to progress sideways with his face to the rock and hands
+      outstretched till his fingers were cramped, and the feeling known as &ldquo;pins
+      and needles&rdquo; assailed his arms. Then he would rest for some moments,
+      peering into the darkness below him all the while. Once or twice he
+      dropped a small stone cautiously, holding it at arm's length. When the
+      tiny messenger touched earth soon after leaving his hand, he continued his
+      downward progress. Once, no sound followed for some seconds, and then it
+      was only a distant concussion far down beside the sea. With an involuntary
+      shudder, the climber turned and made his way upwards and sideways again,
+      before venturing to descend once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For half an hour he continued his perilous struggle, till his strong arms
+      were stiff and his fingers almost powerless. With marvellous tenacity he
+      held to his purpose. Never since leaving the summit had he been able to
+      rest both hands at once. With a dogged, mechanical endurance which is
+      essentially characteristic of climbers and mountaineers, he lowered
+      himself, inch by inch, foot by foot. Louder and louder sang the sea, as if
+      in derision at his petty efforts, but through his head there rushed
+      another sound infinitely more terrible: a painful, continuous buzz, which
+      seemed to press upon his temples. A dull pain was slowly creeping up the
+      muscles of his neck towards his head. All these symptoms the climber knew.
+      The buzzing in his ears would never cease until he could lie down and
+      breathe freely with every muscle relaxed, every sinew slack. The dull ache
+      would creep up until it reached his brain, and then nothing could save him&mdash;no
+      strength of will could prevent his fingers from relaxing their hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sish&mdash;sish, sish&mdash;sish!&rdquo; laughed the waves below. Placidly the
+      stars held on their stately course&mdash;each perhaps peopled by millions
+      of its own&mdash;young and old, tame and fiery&mdash;all pursuing shadows
+      as we do here.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is getting serious,&rdquo; muttered Christian, with a pitiful laugh. The
+      perspiration was running down his face, burning his eyes, and dripping
+      from his chin. With straining eyes he peered into the night. Close beneath
+      him there was a ledge of some breadth. It was not flat, but inclined
+      upwards from the face of the cliff, thus forming a shelf of solid stone.
+      For some seconds he stared continuously at this, so as to reduce to a
+      minimum the chance of being mistaken. Then with great caution he slid down
+      the steep incline of smooth stone and landed safely. The glissade lasted
+      but a moment, nevertheless it recalled to his mind a picture which was
+      indelibly stamped in his memory. Years before he had seen a man slide like
+      this, unintentionally, after a false step. Again that picture came to him&mdash;unimpressionable
+      as his life had rendered him. Again he saw the glittering expanse of snow,
+      and on it the broad, strong figure of the Vaudois guide sliding down and
+      down, with madly increasing speed&mdash;feet foremost, skilful to the
+      last. Again he felt the thrill which men cannot but experience at the
+      sight of a man, or even of a dumb beast, fighting bravely for life. Again
+      he saw the dull gleam of the uplifted ice-axe as the man dealt scientific
+      blow after blow on the frozen snow, attempting to arrest his terrible
+      career. And again in his mind's eye the pure expanse of spotless white lay
+      before him, scarred by one straight streak, marking where the taciturn
+      mountaineer had vanished over the edge of the precipice to his certain
+      doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian lay like a half-drowned man upon the shelving ledge, slowly
+      realising his position. He calculated that he could not yet be half-way
+      down, and his strength was almost exhausted. Yet, as he lay there, no
+      thought of waiting for daylight, no question of retreat entered his
+      stubborn West-country brain. The exploit still possessed for him the
+      elements of a good joke, to be related thereafter in such a manner as
+      would enforce laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly&mdash;within the softer sound of the sea below&mdash;a harsh,
+      grating noise struck his ears. It was to him like the sound made by a
+      nailed boot upon rock. It was as if another were following him down the
+      face of the cliff. In a second he was upon his feet, his weariness a thing
+      forgotten. Overhead, against the starlit sky, he could define the line of
+      rock with its sharp, broken angles and uncouth turns. Not thirty feet
+      above him something was moving. His first feeling was one of intense fear.
+      Every climber knows that it is easier to pass a difficult corner than to
+      stand idle, watching another do it. Slowly the dark form came downwards,
+      and suddenly, with a quick sense of unutterable relief, Christian saw the
+      black line of a tightened rope. When it was barely ten feet above him he
+      saw that the object was no man, but a square case. In a flash of thought
+      he divined what the box contained, and unhesitatingly ran along the ledge
+      towards it. As it descended he seized it with both hands and swung it in
+      towards himself. With pendulum-like motion it descended, and at last
+      touched the rock at his feet. As this took place he grasped the rope with
+      both hands and threw his entire weight upon it, hauling slowly in, hand
+      over hand. So quickly and deftly was this carried out that those lowering
+      overhead were deceived, and continued to pay out the rope slowly. Steadily
+      Christian hauled in, the slack falling in snake-like coils at his feet.
+      Only being able to guess at his position on the cliff, it was no easy
+      matter to calculate how much rope it was necessary to take in in order to
+      carry out the deception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length he ceased abruptly, and proceeded to untie the knots round the
+      bale. Then, after the manner of a sailor who is working out of sight with
+      a life-line, he jerked the rope, which immediately began to ascend rapidly
+      and with irregularity. Coil after coil ran easily away, and at last the
+      frayed end passed into the darkness above Christian's head. He stood there
+      watching it, and when it had disappeared he burst into a low hoarse laugh
+      which suddenly broke off into a sickening gurgle, and he fell sideways and
+      backwards on to the box, clutching at it with his nerveless fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he recovered his faculties his first sensation was one of great cold.
+      The breeze had freshened with the approach of dawn, and blowing full upon
+      him as he lay bathed in perspiration, the effect was like that of a
+      refrigerator. He moved uneasily, and found that he was lying on the stone
+      ledge <i>outside</i> the box, from which he had fallen. After a moment, he
+      rose rapidly to his feet as if desirous of dismissing the memory of his
+      own collapse, and turned his attention to the bundle. Beneath the rough
+      covering of canvas, which was not sewn but merely lashed round, it was
+      easy enough to detect the shape of the case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What luck&mdash;what wonderful luck,&rdquo; he muttered, as he groped round the
+      surface of the bundle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed it seemed as if everything had arranged itself for his special
+      benefit and advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The three men whose duty it had been to lower the case coiled up their
+      rope and started off on foot inland, after telling the sentinel stationed
+      at the head of the little path to rejoin his boat. This the man was only
+      too willing to do at once. He was a semi-superstitious Breton of no great
+      intelligence, who vastly preferred being afloat in his unsavoury yawl to
+      climbing about unknown rocks in the dark. On the beach, he found his two
+      comrades, to whom he gruffly imparted the information that they were to go
+      on board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had the 'monsieur' said nothing else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, the 'monsieur' said nothing else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Breton intellect is not, as a rule, acute. Like sheep the three men
+      proceeded to carry up from the water's edge Stanley's boat, which was
+      required to carry the heavy case, their own dinghy being too small. This
+      done, they rowed off silently to the yawl, which was rolling lazily in the
+      trough of the sea, a quarter of a mile from the shore. Once on board they
+      were regaled with some choice French profanity from the lips of a large
+      man in a sealskin cap and a dirty woollen muffler. This gentleman they
+      addressed as the &ldquo;patron,&rdquo; and, with clumsy awe, informed him that they
+      had waited at the same spot as before, but nothing had come, until at
+      length Hoel Grall arrived with instructions from the &ldquo;monsieur&rdquo; to go on
+      board. Whereupon further French profanity, followed by unintelligible
+      orders, freely interlarded with embellishments of a forcible tenor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the yawl swung slowly round and stood out to sea, Christian turned to
+      climb up Bury Bluff. He found that he had in reality made very little
+      progress in descending. Before leaving the case, he edged it by degrees
+      nearer to the base of the ledge, which would render it invisible from the
+      beach. The ascent was soon accomplished, and after a cautious search he
+      concluded that no one was about, so set off home at a rapid pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before he reached the Hall the light of coming day was already creeping up
+      into the eastern sky. All nature was stirring, refreshed with the balmy
+      dew and coolness of the night. Far up in the higher branches of the
+      Weymouth pines, the wrens were awake, calling to each other with tentative
+      twitter, and pluming themselves the while for another day of sunshine and
+      song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a thief Christian hurried on, and creeping into his bedroom window,
+      was soon sleeping the dreamless, forgetful sleep of youth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By seven o'clock he was awake with all the quick realisation of a
+      Londoner. In the country men wake up slowly, and slowly gather together
+      their senses after an all-sufficing sleep of ten hours. In cities, five,
+      four, or even three are sufficient for the unfatigued body and the
+      restless mind. Men wake up quickly, and are at once in full possession of
+      their faculties. It is, after all, a mere matter of habit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian had slept sufficiently. He rose quite fresh and strong, and
+      presently sat down, coatless to write.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Page after page he wrote, turning each leaf over upon its face as it was
+      completed&mdash;never referring back, never hesitating, and only
+      occasionally raising his pen from the paper. Line after line of neat,
+      small writing, quite different from what his friends knew in letters or on
+      envelopes, flowed from his pen. It was his &ldquo;press&rdquo; handwriting, plain,
+      rapid, and as legible as print. The punctuation was attended to with
+      singular care: the commas broad and heavy, the colons like the kisses in a
+      child's letter, round and black. Once or twice he smiled as he wrote, and
+      occasionally jerked his head to one side critically as he re-read a
+      sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In less than two hours it was finished. He rose from his seat, and walked
+      slowly to the window. Standing there he gazed thoughtfully across the
+      bare, unlovely tableland towards the sea. He had written many hundreds of
+      pages, all more or less masterly; he had read criticisms upon his own work
+      saying that it was good; and yet he knew that the best&mdash;the best he
+      had ever written&mdash;lay upon the table behind him. Then he turned and
+      shook the loose leaves together symmetrically. Pensively he counted them.
+      He was young and strong; the world and life lay before him, with their
+      infinite possibilities&mdash;their countless opportunities to be seized or
+      left. He looked curiously at the written pages. The writing was his own;
+      the form of every letter was familiar; the heavy punctuation and clean,
+      closely written lines such as the compositor loved to deal with; and while
+      he turned the leaves over he wondered if ever he would do better, for he
+      knew that it was good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII. A WARNING WORD
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As the breakfast-bell echoed through the house Christian ran downstairs.
+      He met Hilda entering the open door with the letters in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down already?&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied incautiously, &ldquo;I wished to get the letters early.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, after all, there is nothing for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;No, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly, and
+      apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a
+      peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied the
+      envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address. Presently he
+      raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a letter daintily
+      between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little puffs of her
+      pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the infantile
+      amusement immensely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside for
+      her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill
+      operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mr. Trevetz's answer&mdash;I suppose it is one of those letters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes!&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I had forgotten my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One is from Trevetz,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;and the other from Mrs. Strawd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing from Mr. Bodery?&rdquo; asked she indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's
+      letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his
+      occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very glad,&rdquo; she murmured conventionally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I,&rdquo; he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it
+      critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M-a-x,&rdquo; she read; &ldquo;how badly it is written! Max&mdash;Max Talma&mdash;is
+      that it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered gravely, &ldquo;that is it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open the
+      envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf of a
+      novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as she
+      unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the open
+      sketch to him. At the foot was written:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Max Talma&mdash;look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In haste, C.T.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his
+      pocket. &ldquo;Trevetz writes in a good forcible style,&rdquo; he said, turning to
+      greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an instant
+      her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as she caught
+      sight of her sister and Christian standing together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you just down?&rdquo; she asked carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian, still holding her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just come down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the
+      station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was printed
+      Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the guard, who
+      would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at Paddington, and the
+      editor of the <i>Beacon</i> would receive it by four o'clock in the
+      afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was
+      satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a
+      brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon. This
+      was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer. The
+      lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family
+      assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were
+      left open for those who wished to pass in and out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework,
+      while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy,
+      while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney was
+      reading in his own room&mdash;reading for a vague law examination which
+      always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was seated at the piano, playing by snatches and turning over
+      the brown leaves of some very old music, unearthed from a lumber-room by
+      Mrs. Carew for his benefit. He waited for no thanks or comment; sometimes
+      he read a few bars only, sometimes a page. He appeared to have forgotten
+      that he had an audience. Presently he rose, leaving the music in disorder.
+      Hilda had been called away some time before by an old village woman
+      requiring medicaments for unheard-of symptoms. Christian looked slowly
+      round the room, then raising his hand he dexterously caught a huge moth
+      which had flown past his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he crossed the room towards the open window, with a view of liberating
+      the moth, a low whistle reached his ear. The refrain was that of the
+      familiar &ldquo;retraite.&rdquo; Hilda had evidently gone out to the moat by another
+      door. Bowing his head, he passed between the muslin curtains and
+      disappeared in the darkness. The sound of his footsteps died away almost
+      immediately amidst the rustle of branch and leaf already crisp with
+      approaching change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Stanley's bed-time. Mechanically, Molly kissed her brother,
+      continuing to work thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes the door opened and Hilda entered the room. She came up
+      to the table, and standing there with her hands resting upon some pieces
+      of Molly's work, she gave a graphic description of the old woman's
+      complaints and maladies. She stood quite close to Molly, and told her
+      story to Mrs. Carew merrily, failing to notice that her sister had ceased
+      sewing, and was listening with a surprised look in her eyes. When the
+      symptoms had been detailed and laughed over, Hilda turned quietly and
+      passed out into the garden. With fearless familiarity she ran lightly down
+      the narrow pathway towards the moat, but no signal-whistle greeted her.
+      The leaves rustled and whispered overhead; the water lapped and gurgled at
+      her feet, but there was no sign or sound of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Silent and motionless she stood, a tall fair form clad in white, amidst
+      the universal, darkness. So silent and so still that it might have been
+      the shade of some fair maid of bygone years mourning the loss of her true
+      knight, who in all the circumstances of war had crossed that same moat
+      never to return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a sudden feeling of loneliness, a new sense of fear, came over
+      Hilda. All around was so forbidding. The water at her feet was so black
+      and mysterious. She gave a soft low whistle identical with that which had
+      called Christian out twenty minutes before, but it remained unanswered,
+      and through the rustling leaves she sped towards the house. From the open
+      window a glow of rosy light shone forth upon the flowers, imparting to all
+      alike a pallid pink, and dimly defining the grey tree-trunks across the
+      lawn. As Hilda stepped between the curtains, the servants entered the
+      drawing-room in solemn Indian file for evening prayers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew looked up from the Bible which lay open before her, and said to
+      Hilda:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Christian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, mother; he is not in the garden,&rdquo; answered the girl,
+      crossing the room to her own particular chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney rose from his seat, and going to the window, sent his loud clear
+      whistle away into the night. His broad figure remained motionless for some
+      minutes, almost filling up the window; then he silently resumed his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew smoothed down the silken book-marker, and began reading in a
+      low voice. It is to be feared that the Psalmist's words of joy were not
+      heard with understanding ears that night. A short prayer followed; softly
+      and melodiously Mrs. Carew asked for blessings upon the bowed heads around
+      her, and the servants left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you not seen Christian since you went to see Mrs. Sender, Hilda?&rdquo;
+       asked Molly, at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Hilda, arranging the music into something like order upon
+      the piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He went out about half an hour ago, in answer to your whistle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned her head as if about to reply hastily, but checked herself,
+      and resumed her task of setting the music in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could I whistle,&rdquo; she asked gently, &ldquo;when I was in the kitchen doling
+      out medicated cotton-wool to Mrs. Sender?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molly looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did <i>you</i> whistle, Sidney?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;no; I was half-asleep over a law-book in my own room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect he has gone for a stroll, and forgotten the time,&rdquo; suggested
+      Mrs. Carew reassuringly, as she sat down to work again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what about the whistle; are you sure you heard it, Molly?&rdquo; asked
+      Hilda, speaking rather more quickly than was habitual with her. She walked
+      towards the window and drew aside the curtain, keeping her back turned
+      towards the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Molly uneasily. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I heard it, and so did he, for
+      he went out at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney stood awkwardly with his shoulder against the mantelpiece,
+      listening in a half-hearted way to his sisters' conversation. With a heavy
+      jerk he threw himself upright and slowly crossed the room. He stood for
+      some moments immediately behind Hilda without touching her. Then he raised
+      his hand and with gentle, almost caressing pressure round her waist, he
+      made her step aside so that he could pass out. He was a singularly
+      undemonstrative man, rarely giving way to what he considered the weakness
+      of a caress. Fortunately, however, for their own happiness, his womenfolk
+      understood him, and especially between himself and Hilda there existed a
+      peculiar unspoken sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the ordinary way he would have mumbled&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le'mme out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this occasion he touched her waist gently, and the caress almost
+      startled her. It seemed like a confession that he shared the vague anxiety
+      which she concealed so well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the charity of maternal love, which is by no means so blind as is
+      generally supposed, Mrs. Carew often said of Sidney that he invariably
+      rose to the occasion; and Mrs. Carew's statements were as a rule correct.
+      His slowness was partly assumed; his indifference was a mere habit. The
+      assumption of the former saved him infinite worry and responsibility; the
+      habit of indifference did away with the necessity of coming to a decision
+      upon general questions. This state of mind may, to townsmen, be
+      incomprehensible. Certain it is that such as are in that condition are not
+      found among the foremost dwellers in cities. But in the country it is a
+      different matter. Such cases are only too common, and (without breath of
+      disparagement) they are usually to be found in households where one man
+      finds himself among several women&mdash;be the latter mother and sisters,
+      or wife and sisters-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man may be a thorough sportsman, he may be an excellent landlord and a
+      popular squire, but within his own doors he is overwhelmed. Chivalry bids
+      him give way to the wishes and desires of some woman or other, and if he
+      be a sportsman he is necessarily chivalrous. When one is tired after a
+      long day in the saddle or with a gun, it is so much easier to acquiesce
+      and philosophically persuade oneself that the matter is not worth airing
+      an adverse opinion over. This is the beginning, and if any beginning can
+      look forward to great endings it is that of a habit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would appear that Sidney Carew's occasion had come at last, for once
+      outside the window he changed to a different being. The lazy slouch
+      vanished from his movements, his eyes lost their droop, and he held his
+      head erect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made his way rapidly to the stable, and there, without the knowledge of
+      the grooms, he obtained a large hurricane-lamp, lighted it, and returned
+      towards the house. From the window Hilda saw him pass down a little path
+      towards the moat, with the lamp swinging at his side, while the shadows
+      waved backwards and forwards across the lawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mind is a strange storehouse. However long a memory may have been
+      warehoused there, deep down beneath piles of other remembrances and
+      conceits, it is generally to be found at the top when the demand comes,
+      ready for use&mdash;for good or evil. A dim recollection was resuscitated
+      in Sidney's mind. An unauthenticated nursery tale of a departing guest
+      leaving with a word of joy upon his lips and warm comfort in his heart,
+      turning from the glowing doorway and walking down the little pathway
+      straight into the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, however, was an excellent swimmer; he knew every inch of the
+      pathway, every stone round the moat. That he should have been drowned in
+      ten feet of clear water, with an easy landing within ten yards, seemed the
+      wildest impossibility. Of course such things have happened, but Christian
+      Vellacott was essentially wide awake, and unlikely to come to mishap
+      through his own carelessness. Of all these things Sidney thought as he
+      walked rapidly towards the moat, and in particular he pondered over
+      Molly's statement that she had heard Hilda whistle. This had met with flat
+      denial from Hilda, and Sidney, with brotherly candour, could only arrive
+      at the conclusion that Molly had been mistaken. He would not give way to
+      the least suggestion of anxiety even in his own mind. After all Christian
+      would probably come in with some simple explanation and a laugh for their
+      fears. It often happens thus, as we must all know. The moments so long and
+      dreary for the watcher, whose imagination gains more and more power as the
+      time passes, slip away unheeded by the awaited, who treats the matter with
+      a laugh or, at the most, a few conventional words of sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney stood at the edge of the water and threw the beams of light across
+      the rippling surface. Mechanically he followed the ray as it swept from
+      end to end of the moat, and presently, without heeding, he turned his
+      attention to the stones at his feet. A gleam of reflected light caught his
+      passing gaze, and he stooped to examine the cause more closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smooth stonework was wet; in fact the water was standing in little
+      pools upon it. Round these there were circles of dampness, showing that
+      evaporation was taking place. The water had not lain there long. A man
+      falling into the moat would have thrown up splashes such as these; in no
+      other way could they be plausibly accounted for. Sidney stood erect. Again
+      he held the lamp over the gleaming water, half fearing to see something.
+      His lips had quite suddenly become dry and parched, and there was an
+      uncomfortable throb in his throat. Suddenly he heard a rustle behind him,
+      and before he could draw back Hilda was at his side. She slipped her hand
+      through his arm, and by the slightest pressure drew him away from the
+      moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know&mdash;Sid&mdash;he could swim perfectly,&rdquo; she said persuasively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no answer, but walked slowly by her side, swinging the lamp
+      backwards and forwards as a schoolboy swings his satchel. Thus he gained
+      time to moisten his lips and render speech possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Together they went round the grounds, but no sign or vestige of Christian
+      did they discover. A pang of remorse came to Hilda as she touched her
+      brother's strong arm. Ever since Christian's arrival she remembered that
+      Sidney had been somewhat neglected, or only remembered when his services
+      were required. Christian had indeed been attentive to him, but Hilda felt
+      that their friendship was not what it used to be. The young journalist in
+      his upward progress had left the slow-thinking country squire behind him.
+      All they had in common belonged to the past; and, for Christian, the past
+      was of small importance compared to the present. She recollected that
+      during the last fortnight everything had been arranged with a view to
+      giving pleasure to herself, Molly, and Christian, without heed to Sidney's
+      inclinations. By word or sign he had never shown his knowledge of this; he
+      had never implied that his existence or opinion was of any great
+      consequence. She remembered even that such pleasures as Christian had
+      shared with Sidney&mdash;pleasures after his own heart, sailing, shooting,
+      and fishing&mdash;had been undertaken at Christian's instigation or
+      suggestion, and eagerly welcomed by Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, at the first suspicion of trouble, she turned instinctively to
+      her brother for the help and counsel which were so willingly and modestly
+      accorded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;did he ever speak to you of his work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied slowly; &ldquo;no, I think not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has been rather worried over those disturbances in Paris, I think, and&mdash;and&mdash;I
+      suppose he has never said anything to you about Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno!&rdquo; said Sidney, repeating the name in some surprise. &ldquo;No, he
+      has never mentioned his name to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He does not like him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you never told me&mdash;Sid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied simply: &ldquo;there was nothing to be gained by it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was lamentably true, and Hilda felt that it was so, although her
+      brother had no thought of posing as a martyr.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian,&rdquo; she continued softly, &ldquo;distrusted him for some reason. He
+      knows something of his former life, and told me a short time ago that
+      Bruno was not his name at all. This morning Christian received a letter
+      from Carl Trevetz, whom we knew in Paris, you will remember, saying that
+      Signor Bruno's real name was Max Talma, also warning Christian to avoid
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this all you know?&rdquo; asked Sidney, in a peculiarly quiet tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all I know,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;But it has struck me that&mdash;that
+      this may have something to do with Signor Bruno. I mean&mdash;is it not
+      probable that Christian may have discovered something which caused him to
+      go away suddenly without letting Bruno know of his departure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney thought of the water at the edge of the moat. The incident might
+      prove easy enough of explanation, but at the moment it was singularly
+      unreconcilable with Hilda's comforting explanation. And again, the
+      recollection of the signal-whistle heard by Molly was unwelcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied vaguely. &ldquo;Yes, it may.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was, by nature and habit, a slow thinker, and Hilda was running away
+      from him a little; but he was, perhaps, surer than she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am convinced, Sidney,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;that Christian connects Signor
+      Bruno in some manner with the disturbances in France. It seems very
+      strange that an old man buried alive in a small village should have it in
+      his power to do so much harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man's power of doing harm is practically unlimited,&rdquo; he said slowly,
+      still wishing to gain time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but he has always appeared so childlike and innocent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is exactly what I disliked about him,&rdquo; said Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do you think he has been deliberately deceiving us all along?&rdquo; she
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not necessarily,&rdquo; was the tolerant reply. &ldquo;You must remember that
+      Christian is essentially a politician. He does not suspect Bruno of
+      anything criminal; his suspicions are merely political; and it may be that
+      Bruno's doings, whatever they appear to be now, may in the future be
+      looked upon as the actions of a hero. Politics are impersonal, and Signor
+      Bruno is only known to us socially.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda could not see the matter in this light. No woman could have been
+      expected to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; she said presently, &ldquo;that Signor Bruno is a political
+      intriguer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expect so,&rdquo; replied her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were walking slowly up the broad path towards the house, having given
+      up the idea of searching for Christian or calling him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; continued Sidney, &ldquo;you think it is likely that he has gone off to
+      see Bruno, or to watch him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the only reasonable explanation I can think of,&rdquo; he said gravely
+      and doubtfully, for he was still thinking of the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the house, and to Mrs. Carew and Molly their explanation was
+      imparted. It was received somewhat doubtfully, especially by Molly.
+      However, the farce had to be kept up&mdash;and do we not act in similar
+      comedies every day?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT WATCH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Cheerfulness is, thank goodness, infectious. The watchers at the Hall that
+      night made a great show of light-heartedness. Sidney had risen to the
+      occasion. He laughed at the idea of anything serious having happened to
+      Christian, and his confidence gradually spread and gained new strength.
+      Molly, however, was apparently beyond its influence. With her perpetual
+      needle-work in her hands she sat beneath the lamp and worked rapidly.
+      Occasionally she glanced towards Hilda, but contributed nothing to the
+      explanations forthcoming from all quarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda was also working; slowly, however, and with marvellous care. She was
+      engaged upon a more artistic production than ever came from Molly's
+      work-basket. Once she consulted Mrs. Carew about the colour of a skein of
+      wool, but otherwise showed no inclination to avoid topics in any manner
+      connected with Christian, despite the fact that these were obviously
+      distasteful to her family. In all that she said, indifference was blended
+      in a singular way with imperturbable cheerfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus they waited until after midnight, pretending bravely to work and read
+      as if there were no such feeling as suspense in the human heart. Then Mrs.
+      Carew persuaded the young people to go to bed. She had letters to write,
+      and would not be ready for hours. If Christian did not appear by the time
+      that she was sleepy, she would wake Sidney. After all, she acted her part
+      better than they. She was old at it&mdash;they were new. She was
+      experienced in stage-craft and made her points skilfully; above all, she
+      did not over-act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The three young people kissed their mother and left the room, assuring
+      each other of their conviction that they would find Christian at the
+      breakfast table next morning. Molly's room was at the head of the stairs.
+      With a smile and a nod she closed her door while Hilda and Sidney walked
+      slowly down the long passage together. Arrived at the end, Sidney kissed
+      his sister. She turned the handle of her door and stood with her back to
+      him for a few moments without entering the room, as if to give him an
+      opportunity of speaking if he had aught to say. He stood awkwardly behind
+      her, gazing mechanically at her hair, which reflected the light from the
+      candle that he was holding all awry, while the wax dripped upon the
+      carpet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be all right, Hilda,&rdquo; he said unevenly, &ldquo;never fear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, I know it will,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she passed into the room without closing the door, and he walked
+      on with loudly-creaking shoes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda crossed her room and set the candle upon the dressing-table. She
+      waited there till Sidney's footsteps had ceased, and then she turned and
+      walked uprightly to the door, which she closed. She looked round the room
+      with a strange, vacant look in her eyes, and then she made her way
+      unsteadily towards the bed, where she lay staring at the wavering candle
+      and its reflection in the mirror behind until daylight came to make its
+      flame grow pale and yellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were four watchers in the house that night. Downstairs, Mrs. Carew
+      sat by the shaded lamp in her upright armchair. She was not writing, but
+      had re-opened the large black Bible. Molly was courting sleep in vain,
+      having resolutely blown out her candle. Sidney made no pretence. He was
+      fully dressed, and seated at his rarely-used writing-table. Before him lay
+      a telegraph-form bearing nothing but the address&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      C.C. BODERY, <i>Beacon</i> Office, Fleet St., London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was gazing mechanically at the blank spaces waiting to be filled in,
+      and through his mind was passing and repassing the same question that
+      occupied the thoughts of his mother and sisters. What could be the
+      explanation of the whistle heard by Molly? The want of this alone sufficed
+      to overthrow the most ingenious of consolatory explanations. All four
+      looked at it from different points of view, and to each the signal-whistle
+      calling Christian into the garden was an insurmountable barrier to every
+      explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before it was wholly light Hilda moved wearily to the window. She threw it
+      open, and sat with arms resting on the sill and her chin upon her hands,
+      mechanically noting the wonders of the sunrise. A soft white mist was
+      rising from the thick pasture, wholly obscuring the sea and filling the
+      atmosphere with a damp chill. Seated there in her thin evening dress, she
+      showed no sign of feeling the cold. At times physical pain is almost a
+      pleasure. The glistening damp rested on every blade of grass, on every
+      leaf and twig, while the many webs stood whitely against the shadows, some
+      hanging like festoons from tree to tree, others floating out in mid-air
+      without apparent reason or support. In and among the branches lingered
+      little secret deposits of mist waiting the sun's warmth to melt them all
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The suppressed creak of Sidney's door attracted Hilda's attention, but she
+      did not move, merely turning to look at her own door as her brother passed
+      it with awkward caution. A dull instinct told her that he was going to the
+      moat again. Presently he passed beneath her window and across the dewy
+      lawn, leaving a trailing mark upon the grass. The whole picture seemed
+      suddenly to be familiar to her. She had lived through it all before&mdash;not
+      in another life, not in years gone by, not in a dream, but during the last
+      few hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The air was very still, and she could hear the clank of the chain as
+      Sidney unmoored the old punt, rarely used except by the gardener to clean
+      the moat when the weeds died down in autumn. The quiet was rendered more
+      remarkable by the suddenness of its advent. All night it had been blowing
+      a wild gale, which dropped at dawn, and from the soft land the mist rose
+      instantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Prompted by a vague desire to be doing something, Hilda presently turned
+      from the window, and, after a moment's indecision, chose from the shelf a
+      novel fresh from the brain of the king of writers. With it she returned to
+      her low chair and listlessly turned over the leaves for some moments. She
+      raised her head and sought in vain the tiny form of a lark trilling out
+      his morning hymn far up in the blue sky. Then she resolutely commenced to
+      read uninterruptedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She read on until Sidney's firm step upon the gravel beneath the window
+      roused her. A minute later he knocked softly at her door. The water was
+      glistening on his rough shooting-boots as he entered the room, and upon
+      the brown leather gaiters there was a deeper shade showing where the wet
+      grass had brushed against his legs. His honest, immobile face showed but
+      little surprise at the sight of Hilda still in evening dress, but she saw
+      that he noticed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose from her low chair and laid aside the book, but no sort of
+      greeting passed between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been all round again,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;by daylight, and&mdash;and
+      of course there is no sign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded her head, but did not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been thinking,&rdquo; he continued somewhat shyly, &ldquo;as to what is to be
+      done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I know
+      it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that Christian
+      has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the same excuse
+      will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph this morning to
+      Mr. Bodery, the editor of the <i>Beacon</i>, and await his instructions. I
+      think that is all that we can do in the meantime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon
+      the closed volume of &ldquo;Vanity Fair,&rdquo; but instead of looking at her brother
+      she was gazing calmly out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;I think that is all that we can do in the meantime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you nothing to suggest?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Do you think I am acting
+      rightly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was still looking out of the window&mdash;still standing motionless
+      near the table with her hand upon Thackeray's &ldquo;Vanity Fair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied; &ldquo;everything you suggest seems wise and prudent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to
+      say nothing&mdash;nothing that may betray our anxiety?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I will see them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round
+      once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nearly half-past seven,&rdquo; he said, with more confidence in his tone,
+      &ldquo;and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for her to see
+      you in that dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, with a sudden smile; &ldquo;I will change it at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV. FOILED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the
+      tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the
+      table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves
+      tucked up. The subeditor of the <i>Beacon</i> was in reality a good hard
+      worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire
+      that the world should be aware of his industry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Morgan,&rdquo; said the editor, hanging up his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Morning,&rdquo; replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before Mr.
+      Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand with
+      heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This article of Vellacott's is first-rate,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;By Jove! sir, he
+      drops on these holy fathers&mdash;lets them have it right and left. The
+      way he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting
+      everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing <i>could</i>
+      be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see quickly enough
+      that it means to show how the trick was in reality performed&mdash;ha,
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery absently. He was glancing at the pile of letters
+      that lay upon his desk. There were among them one or two telegrams, and
+      these he put to one side while he took up each envelope in succession to
+      examine the address, throwing it down again unopened. At length he turned
+      again to the telegrams, and picked up the top one. He was about to tear
+      open the envelope when there was a sharp knock at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'M'in!&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan sharply, and at the same moment the silent door
+      was thrown open. The diminutive form of the boy stood in the aperture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentleman to see you, sir,&rdquo; he said, with great solemnity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name?&rdquo; asked Mr. Bodery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't give his name, sir&mdash;said you didn't know it, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even this small office-boy was allowed his quantum of discretionary power.
+      It rested with him whether an unknown visitor was admitted or politely
+      dismissed to a much greater extent than any one suspected. Into his manner
+      of announcing a person he somehow managed to convey his opinion as to
+      whether it was worth the editor's time to admit him or not, and he
+      invariably received Mr. Bodery's &ldquo;Tell him I'm engaged&rdquo; with a little nod
+      of mutual understanding which was intensely comprehensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this occasion, his manner said, &ldquo;Have him in, have him in my boy, and
+      you will find it worth your while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show him in,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nameless gentleman must have been at the door upon the boy's heels,
+      for no sooner had the words left Mr. Bodery's lips than a tall, dark form
+      slid into the room. So noiseless and rapid were this gentleman's movements
+      that there is no other word with which to express his mode of progression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a low bow, and shot up erect again with startling rapidity. He
+      then stood quietly waiting until the door had closed behind the small boy,
+      who, after having punctiliously expectorated upon a silver coin which had
+      found its way into the palm of his hand, proceeded to slide down the
+      balustrade upon his waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It often occurred that strangers addressed themselves to Mr. Morgan when
+      ushered into the little back room, under the impression that he was the
+      editor of the <i>Beacon</i>. Not so, however, this tall, clean-shaven
+      person. He fixed his peculiar light-blue eyes upon Mr. Bodery, and, with a
+      slight inclination, said suavely&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This, sir, is, I believe, your printing day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, sir, and a busy day with us,&rdquo; replied the editor, with no great
+      warmth of manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would it be possible now,&rdquo; inquired the stranger conversationally, &ldquo;at
+      this late hour, to remove a printed article and substitute another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words Mr. Morgan ceased making some pencil notes with which he
+      was occupied, and looked up. He met the stranger's benign glance and,
+      while still looking at him, deliberately turned over all the proof-sheets
+      before him, leaving no printed matter exposed to the gaze of the curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had in the meantime consulted his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, with dangerous politeness. &ldquo;There would still be time
+      to do so if necessary&mdash;at the sacrifice of some hundredweight of
+      paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How marvellously organised your interesting paper must be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dead silence. Most men would have felt embarrassed, but no sign of such
+      feeling was forthcoming from any of the three. It is possible that the
+      dark gentleman with the sky-blue eyes wished to establish a sense of
+      embarrassment with a view to the furtherance of his own ends. If so, his
+      attempt proved lamentably abortive. Mr. Bodery sat with his plump hands
+      resting on the table, and looked contemplatively up into the stranger's
+      face. Mr. Morgan was scribbling pencil notes on a tablet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The truth is,&rdquo; explained the stranger at length, &ldquo;that a friend of mine,
+      who is unfortunately ill in bed this morning&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (Mr. Bodery did not look in the least sympathetic, though he listened
+      attentively.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... has received a telegram from a gentleman who I am told is on the
+      staff of your journal&mdash;Mr. Vellacott. This gentleman wishes to
+      withdraw, for correction, an article he has sent to you. He states that he
+      will re-write the article, with certain alterations, in time for next
+      week's issue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery's face was pleasantly illegible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I see the telegram?&rdquo; he asked politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger produced and handed to the editor a pink paper covered with
+      faint black writing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will see at the foot this&mdash;Mr. Vellacott's reason for not wiring
+      to you direct. He wished my friend to be here before the printers got to
+      work this morning; but owing to this unfortunate illness&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you are too late, sir,&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Bodery briskly. &ldquo;The
+      press is at work&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend instructed me,&rdquo; interposed the stranger in his turn, &ldquo;to make
+      you rather a difficult proposition. If a thousand pounds will compensate
+      for the loss incurred by the delay of issue, and defray the expense of
+      paper spoilt&mdash;I&mdash;I have that amount with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery did not display the least sign of surprise, merely shaking his
+      head with a quiet smile. Mr. Morgan, however, laid aside his pencil, and
+      placed his elbow upon the proof-sheets before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger then stepped forward with a sudden change of manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery,&rdquo; he said, in a low, concentrated voice, &ldquo;I will give you five
+      hundred pounds for a proof copy of Mr. Vellacott's article.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A dead silence of some moments' duration followed this remark. Mr. Morgan
+      raised his head and looked across the table at his chief. The editor made
+      an almost imperceptible motion with his eyebrows in the direction of the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mr. Morgan rose somewhat heavily from his chair, with a hand upon
+      either arm, after the manner of a man who is beginning to put on weight
+      rapidly. He went to the door, opened it, and, turning towards the
+      stranger, said urbanely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir&mdash;the door!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This kind invitation was not at once accepted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You refuse my offers?&rdquo; said the stranger curtly, without deigning to
+      notice the sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had turned his attention to his letters, of which he was
+      cutting open the envelopes, one by one, with a paper-knife, without,
+      however, removing the contents. He looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow morning,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you will be able to procure a copy from any
+      stationer for the trifling sum of sixpence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the stranger walked slowly past Mr. Morgan out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A curse on these Englishmen!&rdquo; he muttered, as he passed down the narrow
+      staircase. &ldquo;If I could only see the article I could tell whether it is
+      worth resorting to stronger measures or not. However, that is Talma's
+      business to decide, not mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan closed the door of the small room and resumed his seat. He then
+      laughed aloud, but Mr. Bodery did not respond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's one of them,&rdquo; observed Mr. Morgan comprehensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the editor, &ldquo;a dangerous customer. I do not like a
+      blue-chinned man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not much impressed with his diplomatic skill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but you must remember that he had difficult cards to play. No doubt
+      his information was of the scantiest, and&mdash;we are not chickens,
+      Morgan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan, with a little sigh. He turned to the revision of
+      the proof-sheets again, while the editor began opening and reading his
+      telegrams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a little strong,&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Morgan, after a few moments of
+      silence, broken only by the crackle of paper. &ldquo;Just listen here:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It simply comes to this&mdash;the General of the Society of Jesus is an
+      autocrat in the worst sense of the word. He holds within his fingers the
+      wires of a vast machine moving with little friction and no noise. No
+      farthest corner of the world is entirely beyond its influence; no
+      political crisis passes that is not hurried on or restrained by its power.
+      Unrecognised, unseen even, and often undreamt of, the vast Society does
+      its work. It is not for us who live in a broad-minded, tolerant age to
+      judge too harshly. It is not for us to say that the Jesuits are
+      unscrupulous and treacherous. Let us be just and give them their due. They
+      are undoubtedly earnest in their work, sincere in their belief, true to
+      their faith. But it is for us to uphold our own integrity. We are accused&mdash;as
+      a nation&mdash;of stirring up the seeds of rebellion, of crime and
+      bloodshed in the heart of another country. Our denial is considered
+      insufficient; our evidence is ignored. There remains yet to us one mode of
+      self-defence. After denying the crime (for crime it is in humane and
+      political sense) we can turn and boldly lay it upon those whom its results
+      would chiefly benefit: the Roman Catholic Church in general&mdash;the
+      Society of Jesus in particular. We have endeavoured to show how the
+      followers of Ignatius Loyola could have brought about the present crisis
+      in France; the extent to which they would benefit by a religious reaction
+      is patent to the most casual observer; let the Government of England do
+      the rest.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was, however, not listening. He was staring vacantly at a
+      telegram which lay spread out upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the meaning of this?&rdquo; he exclaimed huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then Mr.
+      Bodery read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively
+      rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it from?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidney Carew, the man he is staying with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They remained thus for some moments; the editor looking at the telegram
+      with a peculiar blank expression in his eyes; Mr. Morgan staring at him
+      while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with outspread finger and thumb. In
+      the lane beneath the window some industrious housekeeper was sweeping her
+      doorstep with aggravating monotony; otherwise there was no sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Mr. Morgan rose from his seat and walked slowly to the window.
+      He stood gazing out upon the smoke-begrimed roofs and crooked chimneys.
+      Between his lips he held his pen, and his hands were thrust deeply into
+      his trouser pockets. It was on that spot and in that attitude that he
+      usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon &ldquo;Home
+      Affairs.&rdquo; He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which
+      stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and the
+      supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his
+      orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bradshaw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yess'r,&rdquo; replied the boy, closing the door. His inventive mind had
+      conceived a new and improved method of going downstairs. This was to lie
+      flat on his back upon the balustrade with a leg dangling on either side.
+      If the balance was correct, he slid down rapidly and shot out some feet
+      from the bottom, as he had, from an advantageous point of view on
+      Blackfriars Bridge, seen sacks of meal shoot from a Thames warehouse into
+      the barge beneath. If, however, he made a miscalculation, he inevitably
+      rolled off sideways and landed in a heap on the floor. Either result
+      appeared to afford him infinite enjoyment and exhilaration. On this
+      occasion he performed the feat with marked success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guv'nor's goin' on the loose&mdash;wants the railway guide,&rdquo; he confided
+      to a small friend in the printing interest whom he met as he was returning
+      with the required volume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose you'll be sitten' upstairs now, then,&rdquo; remarked the
+      black-fingered one with fine sarcasm. Whereupon there followed a feint&mdash;a
+      desperate lunge to one side, a vigorous bob of the head, and a resounding
+      bang with the railway guide in the centre of the sarcastic youth's
+      waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having executed a strategic movement, and a masterly retreat up the
+      stairs, the small boy leant over the banisters and delivered himself of
+      the following explanation:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I 'it yer one that time. Don't do it agin. <i>Good</i> morning, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned the flimsy leaves impatiently, stopped, looked rapidly
+      down a column, and, without raising his eyes from the railway guide, tore
+      a telegraph form from the handle of a drawer at his side. Then he wrote in
+      a large clear style:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will be with you at five o'clock. Invent some excuse for V.'s absence. On
+      no account give alarm to authorities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sharp boy took the telegram from the editor's hand with an expression
+      of profound respect upon his wicked features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go down to Banks,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, &ldquo;ask him to let me have two copies of
+      the foreign policy article in ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the silent door was closed, Mr. Morgan wheeled round upon his heels,
+      and gazed meditatively at his superior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going down to see these people?&rdquo; he asked, with a jerk of his head
+      towards the West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am going by the eleven-fifteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been thinking,&rdquo; continued the sub-editor, &ldquo;we may as well keep the
+      printing-office door locked to-day. That slippery gentleman with the
+      watery eyes meant business, or I am very much mistaken. I'll just send
+      upstairs for Bander to go on duty at the shop door to-day as well as
+      to-morrow; I think we shall have a big sale this week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery rose from his seat and began brushing his faultless hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;do that. It would be very easy to get at the
+      machinery. Printers are only human!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Machinery is ready enough to go wrong when nobody wishes it,&rdquo; murmured
+      Mr. Morgan vaguely, as he sat down at the table and began setting the
+      scattered papers in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery and his colleagues were in the habit of keeping at the office a
+      small bag, containing the luggage necessary for a few nights in case of
+      their being suddenly called away. This expedient was due to Christian
+      Vellacott's forethought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The editor now proceeded to stuff into his bag sundry morning newspapers
+      and a large cigar case. Telegraph forms, pen, ink, and foolscap paper were
+      already there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, Bodery,&rdquo; said the sub-editor with grave familiarity, &ldquo;it seems to
+      me that you are taking much too serious a view of this matter. Vellacott
+      is as wide awake as any man, and it always struck me that he was very well
+      able to take care of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a wholesome dread of men who use religion as a means of
+      justification. A fanatic is always dangerous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sincere fanatic,&rdquo; suggested the sub-editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly so; and a sincere fanatic in the hands of an agitator is the very
+      devil. That is whence these fellows got their power. Half of them are
+      fanatics and the other half hypocrites.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had now completed his preparations, and he held out his plump
+      hand, which the subeditor grasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; said the latter, &ldquo;that you will find Vellacott at the station to
+      meet you&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If,&rdquo; said Mr. Morgan, following the editor to the door&mdash;&ldquo;if he turns
+      up here, I will wire to Carew and to you, care of the station-master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV. BOOKS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The London express rolled with stately deliberation into Brayport station.
+      Mr. Bodery folded up his newspapers, reached down his bag from the
+      netting, and prepared to alight. The editor of the <i>Beacon</i> had
+      enjoyed a very pleasant journey, despite broiling sun and searching dust.
+      He knew the possibilities of a first-class smoking-carriage&mdash;how to
+      regulate the leeward window and chock off the other with a wooden match
+      borrowed from the guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped from the carriage with the laboured sprightliness of a man past
+      the forties, and a moment later Sidney Carew was at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same. You are no doubt Mr. Carew?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Thanks for coming. Hope it didn't inconvenience you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; replied the editor, breaking his return ticket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;D&mdash;&mdash;n!&rdquo; said Sidney suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beginning to rise to the occasion. He was one of those men who are
+      usually too slack to burthen their souls with a refreshing expletive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Bodery gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is a man,&rdquo; explained Sidney hurriedly, &ldquo;getting out of the train
+      who is coming to stay with us. I had forgotten his existence. <i>Don't</i>
+      look round!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery was a Londoner. He did not look round. Nine out of ten
+      country-bred people would have indulged in a stare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this all your luggage?&rdquo; continued Sidney abruptly. He certainly was
+      rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then come along. We'll bolt for it. He'll have to get a fly, and that
+      means ten minutes' start if the porter is not officious and mulls things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They hurried out of the station and clambered into the dog-cart. Sidney
+      gathered up the reins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang it,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;What bad luck! There is a fly waiting. It is
+      never there when you want it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked between the shafts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not be afraid of that fly,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;come up, you brute!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned carelessly to put his bag in the back of the cart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him have it,&rdquo; he exclaimed in a low voice. &ldquo;Your friend sees you, but
+      he does not know that you have seen him. He is pointing you out to the
+      station-master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard, nearly
+      throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the whip-socket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we are safe. I think I can manage that fly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;tell me all about Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a full and minute description of events previous to Christian
+      Vellacott's disappearance, omitting nothing. The relation was somewhat
+      disjointed, somewhat vague in parts, and occasionally incoherent. The
+      narrator repeated himself&mdash;hesitated&mdash;blurted out some totally
+      irrelevant fact, and finished up with a vague supposition (possessing a
+      solid basis of truth) expressed in doubtful English. It suited Mr. Bodery
+      admirably. In telling all about Vellacott, Sidney unconsciously told all
+      about Mrs. Carew, Molly, Hilda, and himself. When he reached the point in
+      his narration telling how Vellacott had been attracted into the garden, he
+      became extremely vague and his style notably colloquial. Tell the story
+      how he would, he felt that he could not prevent Mr. Bodery from drawing
+      his own inferences. Young ladies are not in the habit of whistling for
+      youthful members of the opposite sex. Few of them master the labial art,
+      which perhaps accounts for much. Sidney Carew was conscious that his style
+      lacked grace and finish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery did draw his own inferences, but the countenance into which
+      Sidney glanced at intervals was one of intense stolidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I confess I cannot make it out&mdash;at present,&rdquo; he said;
+      &ldquo;Vellacott has written to us only on business matters. We publish
+      to-morrow a very good article of his purporting to be the dream of an
+      overworked <i>attaché</i>. It is very cutting and very incriminating. The
+      Government cannot well avoid taking some notice of it. My only hope is
+      that he is in Paris. There is something brewing over there. Our Paris
+      agent wired for Vellacott this morning. By the way, Mr. Carew, is there a
+      monastery somewhere in this part of the country?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down that valley,&rdquo; replied Sidney, pointing with his whip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Vellacott's article there is mention of a monastery&mdash;not too
+      minutely described, however. There are also some remarkable suppositions
+      respecting an old foreigner living in seclusion. Could that be the man you
+      mentioned just now&mdash;Signor Bruno?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly. Bruno is a harmless old soul,&rdquo; replied Sidney, pulling up to turn
+      into the narrow gateway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no time to make further inquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney led the way into the drawing-room. The ladies were there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mother, Mr. Bodery&mdash;my sister; my sister Hilda,&rdquo; he blurted out
+      awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew shook hands, and the two young ladies bowed. They were all
+      disappointed in Mr. Bodery. He was too calm and comfortable&mdash;also
+      there was a suggestion of cigar smoke in his presence, which jarred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; said the Londoner, with genial self-possession, &ldquo;to owe the
+      pleasure of this visit to such an unfortunate incident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molly felt that she hated him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have heard nothing of Christian?&rdquo; said Mrs. Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery, removing his tight gloves. &ldquo;But it is too
+      soon to think of getting anxious yet. Vellacott is eminently capable of
+      taking care of himself&mdash;he is, above all things, a journalist. Things
+      are disturbed in Paris, and it is possible that he has run across there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew smiled somewhat incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a singular time to start,&rdquo; observed Hilda quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery turned and looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Master mind in <i>this</i> house,&rdquo; he reflected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The others
+      watched him in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you take sugar and cream?&rdquo; inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the
+      second time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please&mdash;both. In moderation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; interrupted Sidney at this moment, &ldquo;the Vicomte d'Audierne is
+      following us in a fly. He will be here in five minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Carew nodded. She had not forgotten this guest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Vicomte d'Audierne,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, with considerable interest,
+      turning away from the tea-table, cup in hand. &ldquo;Is that the man who got out
+      of my train?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Sidney; &ldquo;do you know him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of him.&rdquo; Mr. Bodery turned and took a slice of bread and
+      butter from a plate which Hilda held.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said the editor of the <i>Beacon</i>, raising his voice so
+      as to command universal attention, &ldquo;do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do not
+      tell him of my connection with the <i>Beacon</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
+      Bodery when the door was thrown open, and a servant announced M.
+      d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who entered immediately afterwards&mdash;with an almost indecent haste&mdash;was
+      of middle height, with a certain intrepid carriage of the head which
+      appeals to such as take pleasure in the strength and endurance of men. His
+      face, which was clean shaven, was the face of a hawk, with the contracted
+      myope vision characteristic of that bird. It is probable that from the
+      threshold he took in every occupant of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Carew,&rdquo; he said in a pleasant voice, speaking almost faultless
+      English, &ldquo;after all these years. What a pleasure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook hands, turning at the same time to the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Sid,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and Molly&mdash;wicked little Molly. Never mind&mdash;your
+      antecedents are safe. I am silent as the grave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not strictly true. He was as deep, and deeper than the
+      resting-place mentioned, but his method was superior to silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Hilda,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;thoughtful little Hilda, who was always too
+      busy to be naughty. Not like Molly, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens! How old it makes one feel!&rdquo; he exclaimed, turning to Mrs. Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not changed, at all events,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Allow me to introduce Mr.
+      Bodery&mdash;the Vicomte d'Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men bowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much pleasure,&rdquo; said the Frenchman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery bowed again in an insular manner, which just escaped
+      awkwardness, and said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Molly offered the new-comer some tea, and the party broke up into
+      groups. But the Vicomte's personality in some subtle manner pervaded the
+      room. Mr. Bodery lapsed into monosyllables and felt ponderous. Monsieur
+      d'Audierne had it in his power to make most men feel ponderous when the
+      spirit moved him in that direction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as tea was finally disposed of Mrs. Carew proposed an adjournment
+      to the garden. She was desirous of getting Mr. Bodery to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It fell to Hilda's lot to undertake the Frenchman. They had been great
+      friends once, and she was quite ready to renew the pleasant relationship.
+      She led her guest to the prettiest part of the garden&mdash;the old
+      overgrown footpath around the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as they had passed under the nut-trees into the open space at the
+      edge of the water, the Vicomte d'Audierne stopped short and looked round
+      him curiously. At the same time he gave a strange little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Hein&mdash;hein&mdash;c'est drôle</i>,&rdquo; he muttered, and the girl
+      remembered that in the old friendship between the brilliant, middle-aged
+      diplomatist and the little child they had always spoken French. She liked
+      to hear him speak his own language, for in his lips it received full
+      justice: it was the finest tongue spoken on this earth. But she did not
+      feel disposed just then to humour him. She looked at him wonderingly as
+      his deep eyes wandered over the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they stood there, something&mdash;probably a kestrel&mdash;disturbed
+      the rooks dwelling in the summits of the still elms across the moat, and
+      they rose simultaneously in the air with long-drawn cries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Ah&mdash;h!&rdquo; said the Vicomte, with a singular smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Hilda forgot her shyness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she inquired in the language she had always spoken to this
+      man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and walked beside her, suiting his steps to hers, for some
+      moments before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not here at all,&rdquo; he said at length, apologetically; &ldquo;I was far
+      away from you. It was impolite. I am sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He intended that she should laugh, and she did so softly. &ldquo;Where were
+      you?&rdquo; she inquired, glancing at him beneath her golden lashes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;an old <i>château</i> in Morbihan&mdash;many
+      miles from a railway&mdash;in the heart of a peaceful country. It has a
+      moat like this&mdash;there are elms&mdash;there are rooks that swing up
+      into the air like that and call&mdash;and one does not know why they do
+      it, and what they are calling. Listen, little girl&mdash;they are calling
+      something. What is it? I think I was <i>there</i>. It was impolite&mdash;I
+      am sorry, Miss Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed again sympathetically and without mirth; for she was meant to
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked back over his shoulder at times as if the calling of the rooks
+      jarred upon his nerves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think I like them&mdash;&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not apparently disposed to be loquacious as he had been at first.
+      Possibly the rooks had brought about this change. Hilda also had her
+      thoughts. At times she glanced at the water with a certain shrinking in
+      her heart. She had not yet forgotten the moments she had passed at the
+      edge of the moat the night before. They walked right round the moat and
+      down a little pathway through the elm wood without speaking. The rooks had
+      returned to their nests and only called to each other querulously at
+      intervals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has it ever occurred to you, little girl,&rdquo; said the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      suddenly, &ldquo;to doubt the wisdom of the Creator's arrangements for our
+      comfort, or otherwise, here below?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose not,&rdquo; he went on, without waiting for an answer, which she
+      remembered as an old trick of his. &ldquo;You are a woman&mdash;it is different
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl said nothing. She may have thought differently; one cannot always
+      read a maiden's thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked on together. Suddenly the Vicomte d'Audierne spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda followed the direction of his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;is Signor Bruno. An old Italian exile. A friend of
+      ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruno came forward, hat in hand, bowing and smiling in his charming way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda introduced the two men, speaking in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, with outspread hands, &ldquo;that you spoke
+      French like a Frenchwoman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had it,&rdquo; she said, with a sudden inspiration, &ldquo;been Italian, I should
+      have told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;learnt most of it from me. We are old friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;but is that so?&rdquo; he murmured conversationally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me,&rdquo; replied the Vicomte
+      carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not imagine, little girl,&rdquo; replied d'Audierne, &ldquo;that you could learn
+      very much that is good from me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the
+      nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor
+      Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew and
+      Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his
+      handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a slight
+      delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the two foreigners came up with Hilda, who had walked on, Signor
+      Bruno found time to say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must see you to-night, without fail; I am in a very difficult position.
+      I have had to resort to strong measures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo; inquired the Vicomte d'Audierne, with that pleasant nonchalance
+      which is so aggravating to the People.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the village, any time after nine; a yellow cottage near the well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And they joined Hilda Carew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI. FOES
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It is only when our feelings are imaginary that we analyse them. When the
+      real thing comes&mdash;the thing that only does come to a few of us&mdash;we
+      can only feel it, and there is no thought of analysis. Moreover, the
+      action is purely involuntary. We feel strange things&mdash;such things as
+      murder&mdash;and we cannot help feeling it. We may cringe and shrink; we
+      may toss in our beds when we wake up with such thoughts living, moving,
+      having their being in our brains&mdash;but we cannot toss them off. The
+      very attempt to do so is a realisation, and from consciousness we spring
+      to knowledge. We know that in our hearts we are thieves, murderers,
+      slanderers; we know that if we read of such thoughts in a novel we should
+      hold the thinker in all horror; but we are distinctly conscious all the
+      time that these thoughts are our own. This is just the difference existing
+      between artificial feelings and real: the one bears analysis, the other
+      cannot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the
+      arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of the
+      little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with singular
+      care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual, but all the
+      while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda Carew. At certain
+      moments she wondered with a throb of apprehension whether the difference
+      which was so glaringly patent to herself could possibly be hidden from
+      others. She caught strange inflections in her own voice which she knew had
+      never been there before&mdash;her own laughter was a new thing to her. And
+      yet she went on through dinner and until bedtime, acting this strange part
+      without break, without fault&mdash;a part which had never been rehearsed
+      and never learnt: a part which was utterly artificial and yet totally
+      without art, for it came naturally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And through it all she feared the Vicomte d'Audierne. Mr. Bodery counted
+      for nothing. He made a very good dinner, was genial and even witty in a
+      manner befitting his years and station. Mrs. Carew was fully engaged with
+      her guests, and Molly was on lively terms with the Vicomte; while Sidney,
+      old Sidney&mdash;no one counted him. It was only the Vicomte who paused at
+      intervals during his frugal meal, and looked across the table towards the
+      young girl with those deep, impenetrable eyes&mdash;shadowless, gleamless,
+      like velvet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When bedtime at length arrived, she was quite glad to get away from that
+      kind, unobtrusive scrutiny of which she alone was aware. She went to her
+      room, and sitting wearily on the bed she realised for the first time in
+      her life the incapacity to think. It is a realisation which usually comes
+      but once or twice in a lifetime, and we are therefore unable to get
+      accustomed to it. She was conscious of intense pressure within her brain,
+      of a hopeless weight upon her heart, but she could define neither. She
+      rose at length, and mechanically went to bed like one in a trance. In the
+      same way she fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime Mr. Bodery, Sidney Carew, and the Vicomte d'Audierne were
+      smoking in the little room at the side of the porch. A single lamp with a
+      red shade hung from the ceiling in the centre of this room, hardly giving
+      enough light to read by. There were half-a-dozen deep armchairs, a divan,
+      and two or three small tables&mdash;beyond that nothing. Sidney's father
+      had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation of Oriental ways.
+      It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but merely a smoking-room.
+      Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and through the thin smoke he
+      glanced persistently at the Vicomte d'Audierne. The Vicomte did not return
+      this attention; he glanced at the clock instead. He was thinking of Signor
+      Bruno, but he was too polite and too diplomatic to give way to
+      restlessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Mr. Bodery opened fire from, as it were, a masked battery; for he
+      knew that the Frenchman was ignorant of his connection with one of the
+      leading political papers of the day. It was a duel between sheer skill and
+      confident foreknowledge. When Mr. Bodery spoke, Sidney Carew leant back in
+      his chair and puffed vigorously at his briar pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Things,&rdquo; said the Englishman, &ldquo;seem to be very unsettled in France just
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte was engaged in rolling a cigarette, and he finished the
+      delicate operation before looking up with a grave smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;In Paris. But Paris is not France. That fact is hardly
+      realised in England, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What,&rdquo; inquired Mr. Bodery, with that conversational heaviness of touch
+      which is essentially British, &ldquo;is the meaning of this disturbance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney Carew was enveloped in a perfect cloud of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment&mdash;and a moment only&mdash;the Vicomte's profound gaze
+      rested on the Englishman's face. Mr. Bodery was evidently absorbed in the
+      enjoyment of his cigar. The smile that lay on his genial face like a mask
+      was the smile of a consciousness that he was making himself intensely
+      pleasant, and adapting his conversation to his company in a quite
+      phenomenal way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; replied the Frenchman, with a neat little shrug of bewilderment.
+      &ldquo;Who can tell? Probably there is no meaning in it. There is so often no
+      meaning in the action of a Parisian mob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Many things without meaning are not without result.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Vicomte looked at Mr. Bodery, and again he was baffled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You only asked me the meaning,&rdquo; he said lightly. &ldquo;I am glad you did not
+      inquire after the result; because there I should indeed have been at
+      fault. I always argue to myself that it is useless to trouble one's brain
+      about results. I leave such matters to the good God. He will probably do
+      just as well without my assistance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a philosopher,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery, with a pleasant and friendly
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank Heaven&mdash;yes! Look at my position. Fancy carrying in France
+      to-day a name that is to be found in the most abridged history. One needs
+      to be a philosopher, Mr. Bodery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; suggested the Englishman, &ldquo;there may be changes. It may all come
+      right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte sipped his whisky and water with vicious emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it began at once,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it would never be right in my time. Not
+      as it used to be. And in the meantime we are in the present&mdash;in the
+      present France is governed by newspaper men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney drew in his feet and coughed. Some of his smoke had gone astray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked sympathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said calmly, &ldquo;that really seems to be the case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And newspaper men,&rdquo; pursued the Vicomte, &ldquo;what are they? Men of no
+      education, no position, no sense of honour. The great aim of politicians
+      in France to-day is the aggrandisement of themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery yawned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, with a glance towards Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps the Frenchman saw the glance, perhaps he was deceived by the yawn.
+      At all events, he rose and expressed a desire to retire to his room. He
+      was tired, he said, having been travelling all the previous night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had not yet finished his cigar, so he rose and shook hands
+      without displaying any intention of following the Vicomte's example.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney lighted a candle, one of many standing on a side table, and led the
+      way upstairs. They walked through the long, dimly lighted corridors in
+      silence, and it was only when they had arrived in the room set apart for
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne that this gentleman spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;who is this person&mdash;this Mr. Bodery? He was
+      not a friend of your father's.&rdquo; Sidney was lighting the tall candles that
+      stood upon the dressing-table, and the combined illumination showed with
+      remarkable distinctness the reflection of his face in the mirror. From
+      whence he stood the Frenchman could see this reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is the friend of a great friend of mine; that is how we know him,&rdquo;
+       replied Sidney, prizing up the wick of a candle. He was still rising to
+      the occasion&mdash;this dull young Briton. Then he turned. &ldquo;Christian
+      Vellacott,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you knew his father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes: I knew his father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any
+      intention of being deterred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father,&rdquo; continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively, &ldquo;was
+      brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door was closed the Vicomte looked at his watch. It was almost
+      midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Reverend Father Talma will have to wait till to-morrow morning,&rdquo; he
+      said to himself. &ldquo;I cannot go to him to-night. It would be too theatrical.
+      That old gentleman is getting too old for his work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, Sidney returned to the little smoking-room at the side of
+      the porch. There he found Mr. Bodery smoking with his usual composure. The
+      younger man forbore asking any questions. He poured out for himself some
+      whisky, and opened a bottle of soda-water with deliberate care and
+      noiselessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man,&rdquo; said Mr. Bodery at length, &ldquo;knows nothing about Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am convinced of it. By the way, who is the old gentleman who came to
+      tea this afternoon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Bruno, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so&mdash;that super-innocent old man with the white hair who
+      wears window-glass spectacles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they window-glass?&rdquo; asked Sidney, with a little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They struck me as window-glass&mdash;quite flat. Who is he&mdash;beyond
+      his name, I mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an Italian refugee&mdash;lives in the village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery had taken his silver pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+      rolling it backwards and forwards on the table. This was indicative of the
+      fact that the editor of the <i>Beacon</i> was thinking deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And how long has he been here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a few weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery looked up sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is <i>that</i> all?&rdquo; he inquired, with an eager little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, my dear sir, Vellacott is right. That old man is at the bottom of
+      it. This Vicomte d'Audierne, what do you know of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Personally?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an old friend of my father's. In fact, he is a friend of the
+      family. He calls the girls by their Christian names, as you have heard
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I noticed that. And he came here to-day merely on a friendly visit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all. Why do you ask?&rdquo; inquired Sidney, who was getting rather
+      puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing of him personally&mdash;except what I have learnt to-day.
+      For my own part, I like him,&rdquo; answered Mr. Bodery. &ldquo;He is keen and clever.
+      Moreover, he is a thorough gentleman. But, politically speaking, he is one
+      of the most dangerous men in France. He is a Jesuit, an active Royalist,
+      and a staunch worker for the Church party. I don't know much about French
+      politics&mdash;that is Vellacott's department. But I know that if he were
+      here, and knew of the Vicomte's presence in England, he would be very much
+      on the alert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; asked Sidney, &ldquo;do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here
+      with the absence of Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly.
+      Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a scoundrel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney thought deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may be,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not,&rdquo; pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, &ldquo;think
+      that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He asked who you were&mdash;if you were a friend of my father's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you said&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned Vellacott's
+      name. He knew his father very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you&rdquo;&mdash;asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and
+      rising from his deep chair&mdash;&ldquo;were you looking at the Vicomte when you
+      answered the question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there was no sign of discomfort&mdash;no flicker of the eyelids, for
+      instance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bodery nodded his head in a businesslike way, indicative of the fact
+      that he was engaged in assimilating a good deal of useful information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to be done to-night,&rdquo; he said presently, as he made a
+      movement towards the door, &ldquo;but to go to bed. To-morrow the <i>Beacon</i>
+      will be published, and the result will probably be rather startling. We
+      shall hear something before to-morrow afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly, &ldquo;if
+      any one should inquire&mdash;your mother or one of your sisters&mdash;you
+      can say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII. A RETREAT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left his
+      room. As he walked along the still corridor and down the stairs it was
+      noticeable that he made absolutely no sound, without, however, indulging
+      in any of those contortions which are peculiar to late arrivals in church.
+      It would seem that Nature had for purposes of her own made his footfall
+      noiseless&mdash;if, by the way, Nature can be credited with any purpose
+      whatever in her allotment of human gifts and failings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the hall he found a stout cook armed for assault upon the front-door
+      step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Can you tell me the breakfast-hour? I forgot to
+      inquire last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nine o'clock, sir,&rdquo; replied the servant, rather taken aback at the
+      thought of having this visitor dependent upon her for entertainment during
+      the next hour and a half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;and it is not yet eight. Never mind. I will go into the garden.
+      I am fond of fruit before breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took his hat and lounged away towards the kitchen-garden which lay near
+      the moat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way,
+      &ldquo;where is this pestilential village?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where
+      Signor Bruno was lodging.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the door
+      before the Vicomte reached it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and led the way into a little room on the right hand of the
+      narrow passage. A little room intensely typical: china dogs, knitted
+      antimacassars of a brilliant tendency, and horse-hair covered furniture.
+      There was even the usual stuffy odour as if the windows, half-hidden
+      behind muslin curtains and scarlet geraniums, were never opened from one
+      year's end to another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno closed the door before speaking. Then he turned upon his
+      companion with something very like fury glittering in his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you not come last night?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I am left alone to contend
+      against one difficulty on the top of another. Read that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew from his pocket a thin and somewhat crumpled sheet of paper, upon
+      which there were two columns of printed matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;cost us two thousand francs.&rdquo; The Vicomte d'Audierne
+      read the printed matter carefully from beginning to end. He had approached
+      the window because the light was bad, and when he finished he looked up
+      for a few minutes, out of the little casement, upon the quiet village
+      scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The <i>Beacon</i>,&rdquo; he said, turning round, &ldquo;what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A leading weekly newspaper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Published&mdash;?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day,&rdquo; snapped Signor Bruno.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne made a little grimace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who wrote this?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian Vellacott, son of <i>the</i> Vellacott, whom you knew in the
+      old days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something in the Vicomte's expressive voice that made Signor
+      Bruno look at him sharply with some apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you say that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte countered with another question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is this Mr. Bodery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a little jerk with his head in the direction of the house he had
+      just left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was told last night that he was a friend of this Christian Vellacott&mdash;a
+      protector.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two Frenchmen looked at each other in silence. Signor Bruno was
+      evidently alarmed&mdash;his lips were white and unsteady. There was a
+      smile upon the bird-like face of the younger man, and behind his
+      spectacles his eyes glittered with an excitement in which there was
+      obviously no fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; he asked in a disagreeably soft manner, &ldquo;where Christian
+      Vellacott is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Across the benevolent old face of Signor Bruno here came a very evil
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will do better not to ask me that question,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;unless you
+      mean to run for it&mdash;as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne looked at his companion in a curious way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;at one time no rival as a man of action&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Bruno shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a man of action still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte folded the proof-sheet carefully, handed it back to his
+      companion, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I understand that&mdash;there will be no more of these very clever
+      articles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruno nodded his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask no questions,&rdquo; continued the other. &ldquo;It is better so. I shall stay
+      where I am for a few days, unless it grows too hot&mdash;unless I think it
+      expedient to vanish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have courage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have impertinence&mdash;that is all. There will be a storm&mdash;a
+      newspaper storm. The embassies will be busy; in the English Parliament
+      some pompous fool will ask a question, and be snubbed for his pains. In
+      the <i>Chambre</i> the newspaper men will rant and challenge each other in
+      the corridors; and it will blow over. In the meantime we have got what we
+      want, and we can hide it till we have need of it. Your Reverence and I
+      have met difficulties together before this one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Signor Bruno was not inclined to fall in with these optimistic views.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so sure,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that we have got what we want. There has
+      been no acknowledgment of receipt of the last parcel&mdash;in the usual
+      way&mdash;the English <i>Standard</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the last parcel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifty thousand cartridges.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they were sent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; they were despatched in the usual way; but, as I say, they have not
+      been acknowledged. There may have been some difficulty on the other side.
+      Our police are not so easy-going as these coastguard gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the aristocrat, with that semi-bantering lightness of manner
+      which sometimes aggravated, and always puzzled, his colleagues, &ldquo;we will
+      not give ourselves trouble over that: the matter is out of our hands. Let
+      us rather think of ourselves. Have you money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I have sufficient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is now eight o'clock&mdash;this newspaper&mdash;this precious <i>Beacon</i>
+      is now casting its light into some dark intellects in London. It will take
+      those intellects two hours to assimilate the information, and one more
+      hour to proceed to action. You have, therefore, three hours in which to
+      make yourself scarce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have arranged that,&rdquo; replied the old man calmly. &ldquo;There is a small
+      French potato-ship lying at Exmouth. In two hours I shall be one of her
+      crew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is well. And the others?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The others left yesterday afternoon. They cross by this morning's boat
+      from Southampton to Cherbourg. You see how much I have had to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see also, my friend, how well you have done it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Signor Bruno, ignoring the compliment, &ldquo;I must go. We will
+      walk away by the back garden across the fields. You must remember that you
+      may have been seen coming here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought of that. One old man saw me, but he did not look at me
+      twice. He will not know me again. And your landlady&mdash;where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sent her out on a fool's errand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they spoke they left the little cottage by the back door, as Signor
+      Bruno had proposed, through the little garden, and across some low-lying
+      fields. Presently they parted, Signor Bruno turning to the left, while the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne kept to the right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall meet, I suppose,&rdquo; were the last words of the younger man, &ldquo;in
+      the Rue St. Gingolphe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;in the Rue St. Gingolphe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For so old a man the pace at which Signor Bruno breasted the hill that lay
+      before him was somewhat remarkable. The Vicomte d'Audierne, on the other
+      hand, was evidently blessed with a greater leisure. He looked at his watch
+      and strolled on through the dew-laden meadows, wrapt in thought as in a
+      cloak that hid the sweet freshness of the flowery hedgerows, that muffled
+      the broken song of the busy birds, that killed the scent of ripening hay.
+      Thus these two singular men parted&mdash;and it happened that they were
+      never to meet again. These little things <i>do</i> happen. We meet with
+      gravity; we part with a smile; perhaps we make an appointment; possibly we
+      speak of the pleasure that the meeting seems to promise: and the next
+      meeting is put off; it belongs to the great postponement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Often we part with an indifferent nod, as these two men parted amidst the
+      sylvan peace of English meadow on that summer morning. They belonged to
+      two different stations in life almost as far apart as two social stations
+      could be, even in a republic. They were not, in any sense of the word,
+      friends; they were merely partners, intensely awake, as partners usually
+      are, to each other's shortcomings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne probably thought no more of Signor Bruno from the
+      moment that he raised his hat and turned. A few moments later his thoughts
+      were evidently far away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The son of Vellacott,&rdquo; he muttered, as he took a cigarette from a neat
+      silver case. &ldquo;How strange! And yet I am sorry. He might have done
+      something in the world. That article was clever&mdash;very clever&mdash;curse
+      it! He cannot yet be thirty. But one would expect something from the son
+      of a man like Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not yet nine o'clock when the Vicomte entered the dining-room by
+      the open window. Only Hilda was there, and she was busy with the old
+      leather post-bag. Among the letters there were several newspapers, and the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne's expression underwent a slight change on perceiving
+      them. His thin, mobile lips were closely pressed, and his chin&mdash;a
+      very short one&mdash;was thrust forward. Behind the gentle spectacles his
+      eyes assumed for a moment that singular blinking look which cannot be
+      described in English, for it seemed to change their colour. In his country
+      it would have been called <i>glauque</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Hilda!&rdquo; he said, approaching slowly, &ldquo;do I see newspapers? I love a
+      newspaper!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the <i>Times</i> enveloped in a yellow wrapper, upon which
+      was printed her brother's name and address.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; he said lightly, &ldquo;the <i>Times</i>&mdash;estimable, but just a
+      trifle opaque. Is that all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes were fixed upon two packets she held in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are Mr. Bodery's,&rdquo; she replied, looking at him with some
+      concentration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what newspaper does Mr. Bodery read?&rdquo; asked the Frenchman, holding
+      out his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated for a moment. His position with regard to her was singular,
+      his ascendency over her had never been tried. It was an unknown quantity;
+      but the Vicomte d'Audierne knew his own power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me look, little girl,&rdquo; he said quietly in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the newspapers, still watching his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The <i>Beacon</i>,&rdquo; he muttered, reading aloud from the ornamented
+      wrapper, &ldquo;a weekly journal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw the papers down and returned to the <i>Times</i>, which he
+      unfolded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Hilda,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is Mr. Bodery connected with this weekly
+      journal, the <i>Beacon?</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her back was turned towards him. She was hanging up the key of the
+      post-bag on a nail beside the fireplace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, without looking round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he the editor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne turned the <i>Times</i> carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;the phylloxera has appeared again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time he appeared to be absorbed in this piece of news, then he
+      spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew something of a man who writes for that newspaper&mdash;the <i>Beacon</i>.
+      I knew his father very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte glanced at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian Vellacott,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We know him also,&rdquo; she answered, moving towards the bell. He made a step
+      forward as if about to offer to ring the bell for her, but she was too
+      quick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the butler entered the room, Hilda reminded him of some small
+      omission in setting out the breakfast-table. The item required was in the
+      room, and the man set it upon the table with some decision and a slightly
+      aggrieved cast of countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne raised his eyes, and then he looked very grave. He
+      was a singular man in many ways, but those who worked with him were aware
+      of one peculiarity which by its prominence cast others into the shade. He
+      possessed a very useful gift rarely given to men&mdash;the gift of
+      intuition. It was dangerous to <i>think</i> when the eyes of the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne were upon one's face. He had a knack of knowing one's thoughts
+      before they were even formulated. He looked grave&mdash;almost distressed&mdash;on
+      this occasion, because he knew something of which Hilda herself was
+      ignorant. He knew that she was engaged to be married to one man while she
+      loved another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII. AN EMPTY NEST
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of breakfast a card was handed to Sidney Carew. He glanced
+      at it, nodded his head as a signal to the servant that he need not wait,
+      and slipped the card into his pocket. Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne were watching him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he rose from the table and left the room. Mrs. Carew became
+      suddenly lively, and the meal went on unconcernedly. It was not long
+      before Sidney came back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want,&rdquo; he said to his mother, &ldquo;some tickets for a concert at
+      Brayport on the 4th of next month?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a concert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney consulted the tickets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In aid,&rdquo; he read, &ldquo;of an orphanage&mdash;the Police Orphanage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We always take six tickets,&rdquo; put in Miss Molly, and her mother began to
+      seek her pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bodery,&rdquo; said Sidney, at this moment, &ldquo;you have nothing to eat. Let
+      me cut you some ham.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He moved towards the sideboard, but Mr. Bodery rose from his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I prefer to carve it myself,&rdquo; he replied, proceeding to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney held the plate. They were quite close together, and Hilda was
+      talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The London police are here already,&rdquo; whispered Sidney; &ldquo;shall I say
+      anything about Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right,&rdquo; replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney left the room again, and the Vicomte d'Audierne detected the quick,
+      anxious glance directed by Hilda at his retreating form. A few minutes
+      later young Carew rode away from the house in company with two men, while
+      a fourth horseman followed closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who rode on Sidney's left hand was a tall, grizzled man, with the
+      bearing of a soldier, while his second companion was fair and gentle in
+      manner. The soldier was Captain Pharland, District Inspector of Police;
+      the civilian was the keenest detective in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said this man, who sat his hired horse with perfect
+      confidence. &ldquo;Of course we are too late, I know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke softly and somewhat slowly; his manner was essentially that of a
+      man accustomed to the entire attention of his hearers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old Italian,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;who went under the name of Signor Bruno,
+      disappeared this morning. It is just possible that he will succeed in
+      getting out of the country. It all depends upon who he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who do you suppose he is?&rdquo; asked Captain Pharland. He was an upright old
+      British soldier, and felt ill at ease in the society of his celebrated <i>confrère</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the frank reply; &ldquo;you see this is not a criminal
+      affair, it is entirely political; it is hardly in my line of country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They rode on in silence for a space of time, during which Captain Pharland
+      lighted a cigar and offered one to his companions. Sidney accepted, but
+      the gentleman from London refused quietly, and without explanation. It was
+      he who spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carew,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;can you tell me when this monastery was first
+      instituted at Porton Abbey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Last autumn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The thin flaxen eyebrows went up very high, until they were lost to sight
+      beneath the hat brim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did they&mdash;ah&mdash;deal with the local tradesmen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Sidney, &ldquo;I think not. They received all their stores by
+      train from London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have never seen any of the monks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The fair-haired gentleman gave a little upward jerk of the head and smiled
+      quietly for his own satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not speak again until the cavalcade reached Porton Abbey. The old
+      place looked very peaceful in the morning light, standing grimly in the
+      midst of that soft lush grass which only grows over old habitations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One side of the long, low building was in good repair, while the other
+      half had been allowed to crumble away. The narrow Norman windows had been
+      framed with unpainted wood and cheap glass. The broad doorway had been
+      partly filled in with unseasoned deal, and an inexpensive door had been
+      fitted up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bell-knob was of brass, new and glaring in the morning sun. The
+      gentleman from London, having alighted, took gently hold of this and rang.
+      A faint tinkle rewarded him. It was the peculiar sound of a bell ringing
+      in an empty house. After a moment's pause he wrenched the bell nearly out
+      of its socket, and a long peal was the result. At last this ceased, and
+      there was no sound in the house. The fair man looked back over his
+      shoulder at Captain Pharland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone!&rdquo; he said tersely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he took from his breast pocket a little bar in the shape of a lever.
+      He introduced the bent end of this between the door and the post, just
+      above the keyhole, and gave a sharp jerk. There was a short crack like
+      that made by the snapping of cast iron, and the door flew open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without a moment's hesitation the man went in, followed closely by Sidney
+      and Captain Pharland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The birds had flown. As mysteriously as they had come, the devotees had
+      vanished. Bare walls met the eyes of the searchers. Porton Abbey stood
+      empty again after its brief return to life and warmth, and indeed it
+      scarcely looked habitable. The few personal effects of the simple monks
+      had been removed; the walls and stone floors were rigidly clean; the small
+      chapel showed signs of recent repair. There was an altar-cloth, a
+      crucifix, and two brass candlesticks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman from London noted these items with a cynical smile. He had
+      instinctively removed his hat; it is just possible that there was another
+      side to this man's life&mdash;a side wherein he dealt with men who were
+      not openly villains. He may have been a churchwarden at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clever beggars!&rdquo; he ejaculated, &ldquo;they were ready for every emergency.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Pharland pointed to the altar with his heavy riding-whip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you think this all humbug?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. They were no more monks than we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The search did not last much longer. Only a few rooms had been inhabited,
+      and there was absolutely nothing left&mdash;no shred of evidence, no clue
+      whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the fair-haired man, when they had finished their inspection,
+      &ldquo;these were exceptional men; they knew their business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they left the house he paused, and closed the door again, remaining
+      inside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is not even a bolt on the door. They knew
+      better than to depend on bolts and bars. They knew a trick worth two of
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the gate they met a small, inoffensive man, with a brown beard and a
+      walking-stick. There was nothing else to say about him; without the beard
+      and the walking-stick there would have been nothing left to know him by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my assistant,&rdquo; announced the London detective quietly. &ldquo;He has
+      been down to the cliff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men stepped aside together, and consulted in an undertone for some
+      time. Then the last speaker returned to Captain Pharland and Sidney, who
+      were standing together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That newspaper,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the <i>Beacon</i>, is word for word right. My
+      assistant has been to the spot. The arms and ammunition have undoubtedly
+      been shipped from this place. The cases of cartridges mentioned by the man
+      who wrote the article as having been seen, in a dream, half-way down the
+      cliff, are actually there; my assistant has seen them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Pharland scratched his honest cavalry head. He was beginning to
+      regret that he had accepted the post of district inspector of the police.
+      Sidney Carew puffed at his pipe in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said the detective, &ldquo;the newspaper man got all this
+      information through the treachery of one of the party. I should like to
+      get hold of that traitor. He would be a useful man to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In this the astute gentleman from London betrayed his extremely limited
+      knowledge of the Society of Jesus. There are no traitors in that vast
+      corporation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney and Captain Pharland rode home together, leaving the two detectives
+      to find their way to Brayport Station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They rode in silence, for the Captain was puzzled, and his companion was
+      intensely anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney Carew was beginning to realise that the events of the last three
+      days had a graver import than they at first promised to conceal. The now
+      celebrated article in the <i>Beacon</i> opened his eyes, and he knew that
+      the writer of it must have paid very dearly for his daring. It seemed
+      extremely probable that the head and hands which had conceived and carried
+      out this singular feat were both still for ever. Vellacott's own written
+      tribute to the vast powers of the Jesuits, and their immovable habit of
+      forcing a way through all obstacles to the end in view, was scarcely
+      reassuring to his friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidney knew and recognised the usual fertility of resource possessed by
+      his friend; but against him were pitted men of greater gifts, of less
+      scruple, and of infinitely superior training in the crooked ways of
+      humanity. That he should have been so long without vouchsafing word or
+      sign was almost proof positive that his absence was involuntary; and men
+      capable of placing fire-arms into the hands of a maddened mob were not
+      likely to hesitate in sacrificing a single life that chanced to stand in
+      their path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the young fellow rode along, immersed in meditation, he heard the sound
+      of carriage-wheels, and, looking up, recognised his own grey horse and
+      dog-cart. Mr. Bodery was driving, and driving hard. On seeing Sidney he
+      pulled up, somewhat recklessly, in a manner which suggested that he had
+      not always been a stout, middle-aged Londoner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Been telegraphed for,&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;by the people at the office.
+      Government is taking it up. Just time to catch the train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the editor of the <i>Beacon</i> disappeared in a cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne was thus left in full possession of the field.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX. FOUL PLAY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Christian Vellacott passed out of the drawing-room window in answer
+      to what he naturally supposed to be a signal-whistle from Hilda or Sidney,
+      he turned down the narrow, winding pathway that led to the moat. The
+      extreme darkness, contrasting suddenly with the warm light of the room he
+      had just left, caused him to walk slowly with outstretched hands. Floating
+      cobwebs broke across his face, and frequently he stopped to brush the
+      clinging fibre away. The intense darkness was somewhat relieved when he
+      reached the edge of the moat, and the clear sky was overhead instead of
+      interlocked branches. He could just discern that Hilda was not at her
+      usual seat upon the rustic bench farther towards the end of the moat, and
+      he stopped short, with a sudden misgiving, at the spot where the path met,
+      at right angles, the broader stone walk extending the full length of the
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was on the point of whistling softly the familiar refrain, when there
+      was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A rush, a sudden shock, and a pair
+      of muscular hands were closed round his throat, dragging him backwards.
+      But Christian stood like a rock. Quick as thought he seized the two
+      wrists, which were small and flat, and wrenched them apart. Then, stepping
+      back with one foot in order to obtain surer leverage, he lifted his
+      assailant from the ground, swung him round, and literally let him fly into
+      the moat&mdash;with a devout hope that it might be Signor Bruno. The man
+      hurtled through the darkness, without a cry or sound, and fell face
+      foremost into the water, five yards from the edge, throwing into the air a
+      shower of spray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than
+      their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of
+      endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly developed.
+      The exertion of lifting his assailant and swinging him away into the
+      darkness was great, although the man's weight was nothing very formidable,
+      and Christian staggered back a few paces without, however, actually losing
+      his balance. At this moment two men sprang upon him from behind and
+      dragged him to the ground. He felt at once that this was a very different
+      matter. Either of these two could have overpowered him singly. Their thick
+      arms encompassed him like the coils of a snake, and there was about their
+      heavy woollen clothing a faint odour of salt water. He knew that they were
+      sailors. Recognising that it was of no avail, he still fought on, as
+      Englishmen do. One of the men had wound a large woollen scarf round his
+      mouth, the other was slowly but very surely succeeding in pinioning his
+      arms. Then a third assailant came, and Christian knew by the wet hand (for
+      he used one arm only) that it was the smallest of the three, who had
+      suffered for his temerity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick, quick!&rdquo; this man whispered in French. With his uninjured hand he
+      twisted the scarf tighter and tighter until Christian gasped for breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the Englishman struggled and writhed upon the ground, while the hard
+      breathing of the two sailors testified that it was no mean resistance.
+      Suddenly the one-armed man loosened the scarf, but before Christian could
+      recover his breath a handkerchief was pressed over his lips, and a sweet,
+      pungent odour filled his nostrils.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three to one,&rdquo; he gasped, and quite suddenly his head fell forward, while
+      his clutch relaxed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a brave man,&rdquo; said the dripping leader of the attack, as he stood
+      upright and touched his damaged shoulder gently and tentatively. &ldquo;Now
+      quick to the carriage with him. You have not managed this well, my
+      friends, not at all well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker raised his cold hand to his forehead, which was wet, less
+      perhaps from past exertion than from the agony he was enduring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, monsieur,&rdquo; grumbled one of the sailors in humble self-defence, &ldquo;he
+      is made of steel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pale light of a grey dawn was stealing slowly up into the riven sky,
+      lighting up the clouds which were flying eastward on the shoulder of a
+      boisterous wind. The heavy grey sea, heaving, surging, and hissing, threw
+      itself upwards into broken spray, which flew to leeward at a sharp angle,
+      blown from the summit of the wave like froth from an over-filled tankard.
+      After a night of squally restlessness, accompanied by a driving rain that
+      tasted brackish, things had settled down with the dawn into a steady,
+      roaring gale of wind. In the growing light sea-gulls rose triumphantly
+      with smooth breasts bravely facing the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this a dripping vessel laboured sorely. The green water
+      rushed from side to side over her slippery, filthy deck as she rolled, and
+      carried with it a tangled mass of ropes, a wooden bucket, a capstan bar,
+      and&mdash;ominous sign&mdash;a soaking, limp fur cap. The huge boom,
+      reaching nearly the whole length of the little vessel, swung wildly from
+      side to side as the yawl dipped her bulwarks to the receding wave. It was
+      certain death for a man to attempt to stand upright upon the sopping deck,
+      for the huge spar swung shoulder high. The steersman, crouching low by his
+      strong tiller, was doing his best to avoid a clean sweep, but only a small
+      jib and the mizzen were standing with straining clews and gleaming seams.
+      Crouching beneath the weather bulwarks, with their feet wedged against the
+      low combing of the hatch, three men were vainly endeavouring to secure the
+      boom, and to disentangle the clogged ropes. Two were huge fellows with
+      tawny, washed-out beards innocent of brush or comb, their faces were half
+      hidden by rough sou'-westers, and they were enveloped from head to foot in
+      oilskins from which the water ran in little rills. The third was Christian
+      Vellacott, who looked very wet indeed. The water was dripping from his
+      cuffs and running down his face. His black dress-clothes were clinging to
+      him with a soppy hindrance, while the feet firmly planted against the
+      combing of the hatch were encased in immaculate patent-leather shoes, and
+      the salt water ran off silk socks. It would have been very funny if it
+      were not that Fortune invariably mingles her strokes of humour most
+      heedlessly with sadder things. Christian Vellacott was apparently
+      unconscious of the humour of the situation. He was working patiently and
+      steadily, as men must needs work when fighting Nature, and his
+      half-forgotten sea-craft was already coming back. Beneath his steady hands
+      something akin to order was slowly being achieved; he was coiling and
+      disentangling the treacherous rope, of which the breaking had cast the
+      boom adrift, laying low a good seaman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Farther forward upon the hatch lay the limp body of a very big man. His
+      matted head was bare, and the dead, brown face, turned upward to its
+      Maker, jerked from side to side as the vessel heaved. The stalwart legs
+      were encased in greasy sea-boots, deeply wrinkled, and the coils of a huge
+      scarf of faded purple lay upon his broad breast, where they had been
+      dragged down by a hasty hand in order to see more clearly the still
+      features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the dead man's side knelt upon the deck a small, spare figure clad in
+      black and wearing his left arm in a sling. With his right hand he held a
+      crucifix to the blue lips that would never breathe a prayer to the Virgin
+      again. The small mouth and refined features of the praying man were
+      strangely out of keeping with his tempestuous surroundings. Unmindful,
+      however, of wind and waves alike, he knelt and prayed audibly. Each lurch
+      of the vessel threw him forward, so that, in order to save himself from
+      falling, he was obliged to press heavily upon the dead man's throat and
+      breast; but this he heeded not. His girlish blue eyes were half closed in
+      an ecstasy of religious fervour, and the pale, narrow face wore a light
+      that was not reflected from sea or sky. This was the man who had
+      unhesitatingly attacked Vellacott, had dared to pit his small strength,
+      more of nerve than of muscle, against the young Englishman's hardened
+      sinews. Violence in itself was most abhorrent to him; it had no part in
+      his nature; and consequently, by the strange tenets of Ignatius Loyola's
+      disciples, he was condemned to a course of it. Any objectionable duty,
+      such as this removal of Vellacott, was immediately assigned to him in the
+      futile endeavour of subjecting the soul to the brain. A true Jesuit must
+      have no nature of his own and no individuality. He is simply a machine,
+      with likes and dislikes, conscience and soul subject to the will of his
+      superior, whose mind is also under the same arbitrary control; and so on
+      to the top. If at the head there were God, it would be well; but man is
+      there, and consequently the whole society is a gigantic mistake. To be a
+      sincere member of it, a man must be a half-witted fool, a religious
+      fanatic, or a rogue for whom no duplicity is too scurrilous, even though
+      it amount to blasphemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer, the man kneeling on the slimy deck, was as nearly a
+      religious fanatic as his soft, sweet nature would allow. With greater
+      bodily strength and attendant greater passions, he would have been a
+      simple monomaniac. In him the passion for self-devotion was singularly
+      strong, and contact with men had cooled it down into an unusually deep
+      sense of duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Personally courageous, his bravery was of a high order, if the spirit of
+      self-devotion called it into existence. In this his courage was more akin
+      to that of women than of men. If duty drove him he would go where the
+      devil drags most people, and René Drucquer was not by any means the first
+      man or woman whose life has been wrecked, wasted, and utterly misled by a
+      blind devotion to duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When throwing himself upon Christian Vellacott, no thought of possible
+      danger to his own person had restrained or caused him a moment's
+      hesitation. His blind faith in the righteousness of his cause was,
+      however, on the wane. This disciple of St. Ignatius might have lived a
+      true and manly life three hundred years earlier when his master trod the
+      earth, but the march of intellect had trodden down the &ldquo;Constitutions&rdquo;
+       years before René Drucquer came to study them. An ignoramus and a zealot
+      who lived nearly four centuries ago can be no guide or help to men of the
+      present day, and this young priest was overshadowed by the saddest doubt
+      that comes to men on earth&mdash;the doubt of his own Creed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Christian Vellacott was assisting the sailors he glanced
+      occasionally towards the kneeling priest, and on the narrow, intelligent
+      face he read a truth that never was forgotten. He saw that René Drucquer
+      was unconscious of his surroundings&mdash;unmindful of the fact that he
+      was on board a disabled vessel at the mercy of the wild wind. His whole
+      being was absorbed in prayer: this priest remembered only that the soul of
+      the great, rough, disfigured man was winging its serene way to the land
+      where no clouds are. Christian was not an impressionable man&mdash;journalism
+      had killed all that&mdash;nor, it is to be feared, did he devote much
+      thought to religion; but he recognised goodness when he met it. The young
+      journalist's interest was aroused, and in that trifling incident lay the
+      salvation of the priest. From that small beginning came the gleam of light
+      that was to illuminate gloriously the darkness of a mistaken life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chance had capriciously ruled that the hand that had dislocated the Abbé's
+      arm should set it again, and the dead sailor lying on the sticky, tarred
+      hatch-cover had helped. The &ldquo;patron&rdquo; of the boat, for he it was whose head
+      had been smashed by the spar, had held the priest's trembling, swollen
+      shoulder while Christian's steady hands gave the painful jerk required to
+      slip the joint back into its socket. The great, coarse lips which had
+      trembled a little, with a true Frenchman's sympathy for suffering, were
+      now blue and drawn; the stout, tender hands were nerveless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest prayed on, while the men worked near at hand seeking to restore
+      order, and to repair the damages made by sea and wind. They had got over
+      their sullen, native shyness on finding that Christian could speak French
+      like the Abbé and was almost as good a sailor as themselves. One offered
+      him a rough blue jersey, while another placed a gold-embroidered Sunday
+      waistcoat at his disposal, with a visible struggle between kindness of
+      heart and economy. The first was accepted, but the waistcoat was given
+      back with a kind laugh and an assurance that the jersey was sufficient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any
+      ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abbé
+      Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor,
+      and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter, he
+      rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute. The
+      authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had sworn
+      to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his Master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the
+      mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the
+      dead to lie there in this wind and storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am willing,&rdquo; answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the
+      dead man lay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, perhaps&mdash;Monsieur,&rdquo; began the Breton with some hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Christian encouragingly, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps Monsieur will speak to&mdash;to the Abbé. It is that we do not
+      like to disturb him in prayer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do so,&rdquo; he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and
+      touched René Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the
+      touch had been repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;yes. What do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could
+      not hear them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not better to take him below?&rdquo; he shouted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then for the first time did the priest appear to remember that this was
+      not one of the sailors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; he said, rising from his knees. &ldquo;You are right; it is
+      better. But I am afraid the men will not assist me. They are afraid of
+      touching the dead when they are afloat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will help you,&rdquo; said Christian simply, &ldquo;and that man also, I think,
+      because he proposed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a motion of the head he indicated Hoel Grall, upon whom the command
+      of the little vessel had now devolved. The man was better educated than
+      his companions, and spoke French fluently, but in the Breton character
+      superstition is so deeply rooted that generations of education will
+      scarcely eradicate it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked into the Englishman's face with a gentle wonder in his
+      eyes, which were shadowy with the fervour of his recent devotions. The two
+      men were crouching low upon the deck, grasping the black rail with their
+      left hands; the water washed backwards and forwards around their feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time they had seen each other face to face in open
+      daylight, and their eyes met quietly and searchingly as they swayed from
+      side to side with the heavy lurching of the ship. The Englishman spoke
+      first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must leave it to us,&rdquo; he said calmly. &ldquo;You could do nothing in this
+      heavy sea with your one arm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentle blue eyes were again filled with wonder, and presently the
+      priest's intellectual face relaxed into a shadowy smile, which did not
+      affect his thin red lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; he murmured simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian did not hear this remark. He had turned away to call Grall
+      towards him, and was about to move towards the body lying on the hatch,
+      when the priest called him back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; continued René Drucquer quickly, as if in doubt, &ldquo;are you
+      Christian Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked relieved, and at the same time he appeared to be making
+      an effort to restrain himself, as if he had been betrayed into a greater
+      show of feeling than was desirable. When he at length spoke in reply to
+      the Englishman's obvious desire for some explanation of the strange
+      question, his voice was singularly cold, and modulated in such a manner as
+      to deprive it of any expression, while his eyes were fixed on the deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not such as I expected,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked down at him with straightforward keenness, and he saw the
+      priest's eyelids move uneasily beneath his gaze. Mixing with many men as
+      he had done, he had acquired a certain mental sureness of touch, like that
+      of an artist with his brush when he has handled many subjects and many
+      effects. He divined that René Drucquer had been led to expect a violent,
+      head strong man, and he could not restrain a smile as he turned away.
+      Before going, however, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present it is a matter of saving the ship, and our lives. My own
+      affairs can wait, but when this gale is over you may rest assured they
+      shall have my attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX. WINGED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Beyond this one allusion to their respective positions, Christian was
+      silent regarding his captivity. After the gale subsided the weather took a
+      turn for the better, and clear skies by day and night rendered navigation
+      an easy matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With characteristic daring the young Englishman had decided to offer no
+      resistance and to seize no opportunities of escape until the termination
+      of the voyage. The scheme half-formed within his mind was to see the
+      voyage through, and effect his escape soon after landing in France. It was
+      not without a certain adventurous fascination, and in the meantime there
+      was much to interest him in his surroundings. If this young Abbé was a
+      typical member of the Society of Jesus, he was worth studying. If this
+      simplicity was an acquired cloak to deeper thought, it was worth
+      penetrating, and if the man's entire individuality had been submerged in
+      the mysterious system followed in the College of Jesuits, it was no waste
+      of time to seek for the real man beneath the cultivated suavity that hid
+      all feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The more the two young men saw of each other the closer grew their
+      intimacy, and with growing intimacy the domination of the stronger
+      individuality was more marked in its influence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the frail and nervous priest this young Englishman was a new
+      experience; his vitality and calm, straightforward manner of speech were
+      such as the Abbé had never met with before. Such men and better men there
+      were and are in the Society of Jesus, otherwise the power of the great
+      Order would not be what it is; but René Drucquer had never come in contact
+      with them. According to the wonderful code of laws laid down by its great
+      founder (who, in other circumstances, might have prepared the world for
+      the coming of such a man as Napoleon the First), the education of the
+      young is entrusted to such brethren as are of slower parts; and from these
+      honest, but by no means intelligent, men the young Abbé had learnt his
+      views upon mankind in general. The creed they taught without understanding
+      it themselves was that no man must give way to natural impulses; that he
+      must restrain and quell and quench himself into a machine, without
+      individuality or impulse, without likes or dislikes; that he must
+      persistently perform such duties as are abhorrent to him, eat such food as
+      nauseates him, and submit to the dictates of such men as hate him. And
+      these, forsooth, are the teachings of one who, in his zealous
+      shortsightedness, claims to have received his inspiration direct from the
+      lips of the Great Teacher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer found himself in the intimate society of a man who said what
+      he thought, acted as he conceived best, and held himself responsible, for
+      word or deed, to none on earth. It was his first mission after a long and
+      rigorous training. This was the first enemy of the Holy Church against
+      whom he had been sent to fight, armed with the immeasurable power of the
+      greatest brotherhood the world has ever known, protected by the shadow of
+      its blessing; and there was creeping into the young priest's heart a vague
+      and terrible suspicion that there might be two sides to the question. All
+      the careful years of training, all the invisible meshes of the vast net
+      that had been gathering its folds round him since he had first donned the
+      dress of a Probationer of the College of Jesuits, were powerless to
+      restrain the flight of a pure and guileless heart to the height of truth.
+      Despite the countless one-sided and ingenious arguments instilled into his
+      eager young mind in guise of mental armour against the dangers of the
+      world, René Drucquer found himself, at the very first contact with the
+      world, unconvinced that he was fighting upon the righteous side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brest had been left behind in a shimmering blue haze. Ahead lay the grim
+      Pointe de Raz, with its short, thick-set lighthouse facing the vast
+      Atlantic. Out to sea, in the fading glory of sunset, lay the long, low
+      Ile-de-Sein, while here and there black rocks peeped above the water. The
+      man holding the tiller was a sardine fisher, to whom every rock, every
+      ripple, of these troubled waters was familiar. Fearlessly he guided the
+      yawl close round by the high cliff&mdash;the westernmost point of Europe&mdash;but
+      with the sunset the wind had dropped and the sails hung loosely, while the
+      broad bows glided onwards with no sound of parted water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The long Atlantic roll was swinging lazily in, and the yawl rose to it
+      sleepily, with a long, slow movement. The distant roar of the surf upon
+      the Finisterre coast rose in the peaceful atmosphere like a lullaby. The
+      holy calm of sunset, the hush of lowering night, and the presence of the
+      only man who had ever drawn him with the strange, unaccountable bond that
+      we call sympathy, moved the heart of the young priest as it had never been
+      moved before by anything but religious fervour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he spoke of himself. The solitary heart suddenly broke
+      through the restraining influence of a mistaken education, and unfolded
+      its sad story of a misread existence. Through no fault of his own, by no
+      relaxation of supervising care on the part of his teachers, the Jesuit had
+      run headlong into the very danger which his Superior had endeavoured to
+      avoid. He had formed a friendship. Fortunately the friend was a <i>man</i>,
+      otherwise René Drucquer were lost indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think,&rdquo; he said musingly, &ldquo;that no two lives have ever been so
+      widely separated as yours and mine, and yet our paths have met!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott took the cigarette from his lips. It was made of a vile tobacco,
+      called &ldquo;Petit Caporal,&rdquo; but there was nothing better to be had, and he was
+      in the habit of making the best of everything. Therefore he blew into the
+      air a spiral column of thin blue smoke with a certain sense of enjoyment
+      before replying. He also was looking across the glassy expanse of water,
+      but his gaze was steady and thoughtful, while his companion's eyes were
+      dreamy and almost vacant. The light shone full upon his face, and a
+      physician&mdash;or a mother&mdash;would have noticed, perhaps, that there
+      was beneath his eyes a dull shadow, while his lips were dry and somewhat
+      drawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said at length, with grave sympathy, &ldquo;we have drifted together
+      like two logs in a torrent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young priest changed his position, drawing in one leg and clasping his
+      hands round his knee. The movement caused his long black garment to fall
+      aside, displaying the dark purple stockings and rough shoes. The hands
+      clasped round his knee were long and white, with peculiarly flat wrists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One log,&rdquo; he said vaguely, &ldquo;was bound for a certain goal, the other was
+      drifting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott turned slowly and glanced at his companion's face. The smoke
+      from the bad cigarette drifted past their heads to windward. He was not
+      sure whether the priest was speaking from a professional point of view,
+      with reference to heresy and the unknown goal to which all heretics are
+      drifting, or not. Had René Drucquer been a good Jesuit, he would have seen
+      his opportunity of saying a word in season. But this estimable desire
+      found no place in his heart just then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your life,&rdquo; he continued in a monotone, &ldquo;is already mapped out&mdash;like
+      the voyage of a ship traced across a chart. Is it not so? I have imagined
+      it like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott continued to smoke for some moments in silence. He sat with his
+      long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail, and
+      his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in his
+      pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his
+      motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for he
+      spoke at once with a smile on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is best,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;not to think too much about it. From what
+      experience I have had, I have come to the humiliating conclusion that men
+      have very little to do with the formation of their own lives. A
+      ship-captain may sit down and mark his course across the chart with the
+      greatest accuracy, the most profound knowledge of wind and current, and
+      the keenest foresight; but that will have very little effect upon the
+      actual voyage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; argued the priest in a low voice, &ldquo;is it not better to have an end
+      in view&mdash;to have a certain aim, and a method, more or less formed, of
+      attaining it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most men have that,&rdquo; answered Christian, &ldquo;but do not know that they have
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>You</i> have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian smoked meditatively. A month ago he would have said &ldquo;Yes&rdquo;
+       without a moment's hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you know it, I think,&rdquo; added the priest slowly. He was perfectly
+      innocent of any desire to extract details of his companion's life from
+      unwilling lips, and Christian knew it. He was convinced that, whatever
+      part René Drucquer had attempted to play in the past, he was sincere at
+      that moment, and he divined that the young Jesuit was weakly giving way to
+      a sudden desire to speak to some fellow-being of his own life&mdash;to lay
+      aside the strict reserve demanded by the tenets of the Society to which he
+      was irrevocably bound. In his superficial way, Christian Vellacott had
+      studied men as well as letters, and he was not ignorant of the influence
+      exercised over the human mind by such trifling circumstances as moonshine
+      upon placid water, distant music, the solemn hush of eventide, or the
+      subtle odour of a beloved flower. If René Drucquer was on the point of
+      committing a great mistake, he at least would not urge him on towards it,
+      so he smoked in silence, looking practical and unsympathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest laughed a little short, deprecating laugh, in which there was
+      no shadow of mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not,&rdquo; he said, rubbing his slim hands together, palm to palm,
+      slowly, &ldquo;and&mdash;I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will come,&rdquo; suggested the Englishman, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest shook his head with a little smile, which was infinitely sadder
+      than tears. His cold silence was worse than an outburst of grief; it was
+      like the keen frost that comes before snow, harder to bear than the snow
+      itself. Presently he moved slightly towards his companion so that their
+      arms were touching, and in his soft modulated voice, trained to conceal
+      emotion, he told his story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; he said, intertwining his fingers, which were very restless,
+      &ldquo;no man can be the worse for hearing the story of another man's life.
+      Before you judge of me, listen to what my life has been. I have never
+      known a friend or relation. I have never had a boy companion. Since the
+      age of thirteen, when I was placed under the care of the holy fathers, I
+      have never spoken to a woman. I have been taught that life was given us to
+      be spent in prayer; to study, to train ourselves, and to follow in the
+      footsteps of the blessed Saint Ignatius. But how are we who have only
+      lived half a life, to imitate him, whose youth and middle-age were passed
+      in one of the most vicious courts of Europe before he thought of turning
+      to holy things? How are we, who are buried in an atmosphere of mystic
+      religion, to cope with sin of which we know nothing, and when we are
+      profoundly ignorant of its evil results? These things I know now, but I
+      did not suspect them when I was in the college. There all manliness, and
+      all sense of manly honour, were suppressed and insidiously forbidden. We
+      were taught to be spies upon each other, to cringe servilely to our
+      superiors, and to deal treacherously with such as were beneath us.
+      Hypocrisy&mdash;innate, unfathomable hypocrisy&mdash;was instilled into
+      our minds so cunningly that we did not recognise it. Every movement of the
+      head or hands, every glance of the eyes, and every word from the lips was
+      to be the outcome&mdash;not of our own hearts&mdash;but of a law laid down
+      by the General himself. It simply comes to this: we are not men at all,
+      but machines carefully planned and fitted together, so as to render sin
+      almost an impossibility. When tempted to sin we are held back, not by the
+      fear of God, but by the thought that discovery is almost certain, and that
+      the wrath of our Superior is withheld by no scruple of human kindness....
+      But remember, I knew nothing of this before I took my vows. To me it was a
+      glorious career. I became an enthusiast. At last the time came when I was
+      eligible; I offered myself to the Society, and was accepted. Then followed
+      a period of hard work; I learned Spanish and Italian, giving myself body
+      and soul to the work. Even the spies set to watch me day and night, waking
+      and sleeping, feeding and fasting, could but confess that I was sincere.
+      One day the Provincial sent for me&mdash;my mission had come. I was at
+      last to go forth into the world to do the work of my Master. Trembling
+      with eagerness, I went to his room; the Provincial was a young man with a
+      beautiful face, but it was like the face of the dead. There was no colour,
+      no life, no soul, no heart in it. He spoke in a low, measured voice that
+      had neither pity nor love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When that door closed behind me an hour later the scales had fallen from
+      my eyes. I began to suspect that this great edifice, built not of stones
+      but of men's hearts, was nothing less than an unrighteous mockery. With
+      subtle, double-meaning words, the man whom I had been taught to revere as
+      the authorised representative of Our Lord, unfolded to me my duties in the
+      future. The work of God, he called it; and to do this work he placed in my
+      hands the tools of the devil. What I suspected then, I know now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman sat and listened with increasing interest. His
+      cigarette had gone out long before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said presently, in his quiet, reassuring voice, which seemed to
+      infer that no difficulty in life was quite insurmountable&mdash;&ldquo;And, if
+      you did not know it then, how have you learnt it now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From you, my friend,&rdquo; replied the priest earnestly, &ldquo;from you and from
+      these rough sailors. They, at least, are men. But you have taught me
+      this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott made no answer. He knew that what his companion said
+      was true. Unconsciously, and with no desire to do so, he had opened this
+      young zealot's eyes to what a man's life may be. The tale was infinitely
+      sad, but with characteristic promptitude the journalist was already
+      seeking a remedy without stopping to think over the pathos of this
+      mistaken career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently René Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again,
+      and he continued his story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman
+      Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and queens'
+      boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is as firm as
+      ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent. It lies like a huge mill,
+      perfect but idle, waiting for the grist that will never come to be crushed
+      between its ruthless wheels. He told me that the sway over kings and
+      princes has lapsed with the growth of education, but that we hold still
+      within our hands a lever of greater power, though the danger of wielding
+      it is proportionately greater to those who would use it. This power is the
+      People. Before us lies a course infinitely more perilous than the sinuous
+      paths trodden by the first followers of St. Ignatius as they advanced
+      towards power. It lies on the troubled waters; it leads over the restless,
+      mobile heads of the people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the priest ceased speaking. There was a strange thrill of foreboding
+      in his voice, which, however, had never been raised above a monotone. The
+      two men sat side by side, as still as the dead. They gazed vacantly into
+      the golden gates of the west, and each in his own way thought over these
+      things. Assuredly the Angel of Silence hung over that little vessel then,
+      for no sound from earth or sea or sky came to wake those two thinkers from
+      their reverie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the Englishman's full, steady tones broke the hush.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;has not been learnt in two days. You must have known it
+      before. If you knew it, why are you what you are? You never have been a
+      real Jesuit, and you never will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swore to the Mother of God&mdash;I am bound....&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By an oath forced upon you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! By an oath I myself begged to take!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the bitterest drop in the priest's cup. Everything had been done
+      of his own free will&mdash;at his own desire. During eleven years a
+      network of perfidy had been cunningly woven around him, mesh after mesh,
+      day after day. As he grew older, so grew in strength the warp of the net.
+      Thus, in the fulness of time, everything culminated to the one great end
+      in view. Nothing was demanded (for that is an essential rule), everything
+      must be offered freely, to be met by an apparently hesitating acceptance.
+      Constant dropping wears the hardest stone in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Vellacott, &ldquo;you can surely represent to your Provincial that
+      you are not fitted for the work put before you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; interrupted the priest, &ldquo;we can represent nothing. We are
+      supposed to have no natural inclinations. All work should be welcome, none
+      too difficult, no task irksome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can volunteer for certain services,&rdquo; said Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What services?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman looked at him for some seconds in the fading light. In his
+      quick way he had already found a remedy, and he was wondering whether he
+      should propose it or hold his peace. He was not afraid of incurring
+      responsibility. The young Jesuit had appealed to him, and there was a way
+      out of the difficulty. Christian felt that things could not be made worse
+      than they were. In a moment his mind was made up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you know,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the Society has few friends and a multitude of
+      enemies. I am afraid I am an enemy; but there is one redeeming point in
+      the Jesuit record which we are all bound to recognise, and I recognise it
+      unhesitatingly. You have done more to convert the heathen than the rest of
+      the Christian Church put together. Whatever the motive has been, whatever
+      the results have proved to be, the missionary work is unrivalled. Why do
+      you not offer yourself for that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he asked the question Christian glanced at his companion's face. He saw
+      the sad eyes light up suddenly with a glow that was not of this dull earth
+      at all; he saw the thin, pure face suddenly acquire a great and wondrous
+      peace. The young priest rose to his feet, and, crossing the deck, he stood
+      holding with one hand to the tarred rigging, his back turned towards the
+      Englishman, looking over the still waters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he returned, and laying his thin hand upon Christian's shoulder,
+      he said, &ldquo;My friend, you have saved me. In the first shock of my
+      disillusion I never thought of this. I think&mdash;I think there is work
+      for me yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI. TRUE TO HIS CLOTH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      With the morning tide, the <i>Deux Frères</i> entered Audierne harbour.
+      The rough sailors crossed themselves as they looked towards the old wooden
+      cross upon the headland, facing the great Atlantic. They thought of the
+      dead &ldquo;patron&rdquo; in the little cabin below, and the joyous young wife, whose
+      snowy head-dress they could almost distinguish upon the pier among the
+      waiters there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both Christian Vellacott and the Abbé were on deck. They had been there
+      the whole night. They had lain motionless side by side upon the old sail.
+      Day vanished, night stole on, and day came again without either having
+      closed his eyes or opened his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They now stood near the steersman, and looked upon the land with an
+      interest which only comes after heavy weather at sea. To the Englishman
+      this little fishing-port was unknown, and he did not care to ask. The
+      vessel was now dropping up the river, with anchor swinging, and the women
+      on the pier were walking inland slowly, keeping pace and waving a greeting
+      from time to time in answer to a husband's shout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is she, Monsieur L'Abbé,&rdquo; said Hoel Grall, with a peculiar twitch of
+      his coarse mouth, as if from pain. &ldquo;That is she with the little child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer bowed his head, saying nothing. The <i>Deux Frères</i>
+      slowly edged alongside the old quay in her usual berth above the sardine
+      boats. A board was thrown across from the rail to the quay, and the priest
+      stepped ashore alone. He went towards the smiling young wife without any
+      hesitation; she stood there surrounded by the wives of the sailors on
+      board the <i>Deux Frères</i>, with her snowy coiffe and spotless apron,
+      holding her golden-haired child by the hand. All the women curtsied as the
+      priest approached, for in these western provinces the Church is still
+      respected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My daughter,&rdquo; said the Abbé, &ldquo;I have bad news for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled still, misunderstanding his calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, mon père,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it is the season of the great winds now. What a
+      long voyage it has been! And you say it is a bad one. My husband is no
+      doubt in despair, but another voyage is sure to be better; is it not so? I
+      have not seen Loic upon the deck, but then my sight is not good. I am not
+      from Audierne, mon père, but from inland where we cannot see so far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest changed colour; no smile came into his face in response to
+      hers. He stepped nearer, and placed his hand upon her comely arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a very bad voyage for your poor husband,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The Holy
+      Virgin give you comfort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly the colour vanished from the woman's round checks. Her soft,
+      short-sighted eyes filled with a terrible, hopeless dismay as she stared
+      at the young priest's bowed head. The women round now began to understand,
+      and they crossed themselves with a very human prayer of thankfulness that
+      their husbands and brothers had been spared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loic is dead?&rdquo; she said, in a rasping voice. For some moments she stood
+      motionless, then, in obedience to some strange and unaccountable instinct,
+      she began turning up the sleeves of her rough brown dress, as if she were
+      going to begin some kind of manual work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Holy Virgin comfort you, my daughter; and you, my little one,&rdquo; said
+      the priest, as he stooped to lay his hand upon the golden head of the
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loic is dead! Loic is dead!&rdquo; spread from mouth to mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That comes from having ought to do with the priests,&rdquo; muttered the
+      customs officer, beneath his heavy moustache. He was an old soldier, who
+      read the newspapers, and spoke in a loud voice on Sunday evenings in the
+      Café de l'Ouest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé heard the remark, and looked at the man, but said nothing. He
+      remembered that no Jesuit must defend himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl-widow stepped on board the untidy vessel in a mechanical, dreamy
+      way. She dragged the little trotting child almost roughly after her.
+      Christian Vellacott stood at the low cabin door. He was in the dress of a
+      Probationer of the Society of Jesus, which he had assumed at the request,
+      hesitatingly made, of René Drucquer, and for the very practical reason
+      that he had nothing else to wear except a torn dress-coat and Hoel Grall's
+      Sunday garments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me, mon père,&rdquo; lisped the little one, stopping in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much good will a blessing of mine do you, little one,&rdquo; he muttered in
+      English. Nevertheless, he lifted the child up and kissed her rosy cheek.
+      He kept her by his side, letting the mother go to her dead husband alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the woman came from the cabin half-an-hour later, hard-faced, and
+      with dry, stony eyes, she found the child sitting on Christian's knee,
+      prattling away in broken French. Tears came to her aching eyes at the
+      sight of the happy, fatherless child; the hard Breton heart was touched at
+      last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé's instructions were to keep his prisoner confined under lock and
+      key in the cabin until nightfall, when he was to be removed inland in a
+      carriage under the surveillance of two lay-brethren. Christian, however,
+      never for a moment doubted his ability to escape when he wished to do so,
+      and acting upon this conviction he volunteered a promise not to attempt
+      evasion. Dressed as he was, in the garments of a probationer, there was no
+      necessity of awaiting nightfall, as there was nothing unusual about him to
+      attract attention. Accordingly the departure from the <i>Deux Frères</i>
+      was fixed for midday. In the meantime the young Englishman found himself
+      the object of unremitting attention on the part of two smooth-faced
+      individuals who looked like domestic servants. These two men had come on
+      board at the same moment that the Abbé stepped ashore, and Christian
+      noticed that no word of greeting or recognition passed between them and
+      René Drucquer. This was to him a further proof of the minuteness of
+      organisation which has characterised the Order since Ignatius Loyola wrote
+      down his wonderful &ldquo;Constitutions,&rdquo; in which no trifle was too small to be
+      unworthy of attention, no petty dramatic effect devoid of significance.
+      Each man appeared to have received his instructions separately, and with
+      no regard to those of his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, however, the journalist had not been wasting his time.
+      Although he still looked upon the whole affair as a very good farce, he
+      had not forgotten the fact that his absence must necessarily have been
+      causing endless anxiety in England. During the long night of wakefulness
+      he had turned over in his mind every possible event at St. Mary Western
+      since his sudden disappearance. Again and again he found himself wondering
+      how they would all take it, and his conclusions were remarkably near to
+      the truth. He guessed that Mr. Bodery would, sooner or later, be called in
+      to give his opinion, and he sincerely hoped that the course taken would be
+      the waiting tactics which had actually been proposed by the editor of the
+      <i>Beacon</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this hope he determined to communicate with Sidney Carew, and having
+      possessed himself of a blank Customs Declaration Form, he proceeded to
+      write a letter upon the reverse side of it. In this he told his friend to
+      have no anxiety, and, above all, to institute no manner of search, because
+      he would return to England as soon as his investigations were complete.
+      The letter was written in guarded language, because Christian had arrived
+      at the conclusion that the only means he had of despatching it was through
+      the hands of René Drucquer. The crew of the <i>Deux Frères</i> were not
+      now allowed to speak with him. He possessed no money, and it would have
+      been folly to attempt posting an unstamped letter addressed to England in
+      a little place like Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly, as they were preparing to leave the vessel (the care of poor
+      Loic having been handed over to the village curé), Christian boldly
+      tendered his request.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my friend, I cannot do it,&rdquo; replied the Abbé promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read it yourself,&rdquo; urged Christian. &ldquo;No harm can possibly come of it. My
+      friend will do exactly as I tell him. In fact, it will be to your benefit
+      that it should go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the Jesuit shook his head. Suddenly, however, in the midst of an
+      argument on the part of the Englishman, he gave in and took the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it to me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I will risk it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian watched him place the letter within the breast of his &ldquo;soutane,&rdquo;
+       unread. The two lay-brethren were noting every movement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the priest removed his broad-brimmed hat and passed through the
+      little doorway into the dimly lighted cabin where the dead sailor lay. He
+      left the door ajar. After glancing at the dead man's still face he fell
+      upon his knees by the side of the low bunk, and remained with bowed head
+      for some moments. At last he rose to his feet and took the Englishman's
+      letter from his breast. The envelope was unclosed, and with smooth,
+      deliberate touch he opened the letter and read it by the light of the
+      candle at the dead man's head, of which the rays were to illuminate the
+      wandering soul upon its tortuous way. The priest read each word slowly and
+      carefully, for his knowledge of English was limited. Then he stood for
+      some seconds motionless, with arms hanging straight, staring at the flame
+      of the candle with weary, wondering eyes. At last he raised his hand and
+      held the flimsy paper in the flame of the candle till it was all burnt
+      away. The charred remains fluttered to the ground, and one wavering flake
+      of carbonised paper sank gently upon the dead man's throat, laid bare by
+      the hand of his frenzied wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said that I was not a Jesuit,&rdquo; murmured the priest, as he burnt the
+      envelope, and across his pale face there flitted an unearthly smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when
+      Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the
+      rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and
+      then turned to leave the ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed that
+      the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne were
+      on the box. René Drucquer and himself were invited to enter the roomy
+      vehicle, and by the way in which the door shut he divined that it was
+      locked by a spring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the village post-office the carriage stopped, and, one of the servants
+      having opened the door, the priest descended and passed into the little
+      bureau. He said nothing about the letter addressed to Sidney Carew, but
+      Christian took for granted that it would be posted. Instead of this,
+      however, the priest wrote a telegram announcing the arrival of the <i>Deux
+      Frères</i>, which he addressed to &ldquo;Morel et Fils, Merchants, Quimper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hoel Grall asked me to despatch this,&rdquo; he said quietly, as he handed the
+      paper to the old postmaster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus they
+      travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two strangely
+      contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances of which the
+      links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott did not appear to
+      chafe against his confinement. He took absolutely no notice of the two men
+      whose duty it was to watch his every movement. The spirit of adventure,
+      which is not quite educated out of us Englishmen yet, was very strong in
+      him, and the rapid movement through an unknown land to an unknown goal was
+      not without its healthy fascination. He lay back in the comfortable
+      carriage and sleepily watched the flying landscape. Withal he noticed by
+      the position of the sun the direction in which he was being taken, and
+      despite many turns and twists he kept his bearings fairly well. The
+      carriage had left the high road soon after crossing the bridge above
+      Audierne, and was now going somewhat heavily over inferior thoroughfares.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun had set before Vellacott awoke to find that they were still
+      lumbering on. He had, of course, lost all bearing now, but he soon found
+      that they had been journeying eastward since leaving the coast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A halt was made for refreshment at a small hillside village which appeared
+      to be mainly inhabited by women, for the men were all sailors. The
+      accommodation was of the poorest, but bread was procurable, and eggs, meat
+      being an unknown luxury in the community.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the lowering light they journeyed on again, sometimes on the broad
+      post-road, sometimes through cool and sombre forests. Many times when
+      Christian spoke kindly, or performed some little act of consideration, the
+      poor Abbé was on the point of disclosing his own treason. Before his eyes
+      was the vision of that little cabin. He saw again the dancing flame of the
+      paper in his hand, throwing its moving light upon the marble features of
+      that silent witness as the charred fragments fluttered past the still face
+      to the ground. But as the stone is worn by the dropping water, so at last
+      is man's better nature overcome by persistent undermining when the work is
+      carried out by men chosen as possessing &ldquo;a mind self-possessed and
+      tranquil, delicate in its perceptions, sure in its intuitions, and capable
+      of a wide comprehension of various subjects.&rdquo; What youthful nature could
+      be strong enough to resist the cunning pressure of influences wielded
+      thus? So René Drucquer carried the secret in his heart until circumstances
+      rendered it unimportant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Man is, after all, only fallible, and those to whom is given the privilege
+      of accepting or refusing candidates for admission to the great Society of
+      Jesus had made a fatal error in taking René Drucquer. Never was a man more
+      unfitted to do his duty in that station of life in which he was placed.
+      His religious enthusiasm stopped short of fanaticism; his pliability would
+      not bend so low as duplicity. All this the young journalist learnt as he
+      penetrated further into the sensitive depths of his companion's gentle
+      temperament. The priest was of those men to whom love and brotherly
+      affection are as necessary as the air they breathe. His wavering instincts
+      were capable of being hardened into convictions; his natural gifts (and
+      they were many) could be raised into talents; his life, in fact, could
+      have been made a success by one influence&mdash;the love of a woman&mdash;the
+      one influence that was forbidden: the single human acquirement that must
+      for ever be beyond the priest's reach. This Christian Vellacott felt in a
+      vague, uncertain way. He did not know very much about love and its
+      influence upon a man's character, these questions never having come under
+      his journalistic field of inquiry; but he had lately begun to wonder
+      whether man's life was given to him to be influenced by no other thoughts
+      than those in his own brain&mdash;whether there is not in our existence a
+      completing area in the development of character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking at the matter from his own personal point of view&mdash;from
+      whence even the best of us look upon most things&mdash;he was of the
+      opinion that love stands in the path of the majority of men. This had been
+      his view of the matter for many years; probably it was the reflection of
+      his father's cynically outspoken opinion, and a well-grown idea is hard to
+      uproot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brought up, as he had been, by a pleasure-seeking and somewhat cynical
+      man, and passing from his care into the busy and practical journalistic
+      world, it was only natural that he should have acquired a certain hardness
+      of judgment which, though useful in the world, is not an amiable quality.
+      He now felt the presence of a dawning charity towards the actions of his
+      fellow-men. A month earlier he would have despised René Drucquer as a weak
+      and incapable man; now there was in his heart only pity for the young
+      priest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after darkness had settled over the country the carriage descended
+      into a deep and narrow valley through which ran a rapid river of no great
+      breadth. Here the driver stopped, and the two travellers descended from
+      the vehicle. The priest exchanged a few words in a low voice with one of
+      the servants who had leapt down from the box, and then turning to
+      Vellacott he said in a curt manner&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Follow me, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman obeyed, and leaving the road they turned along a broad
+      pathway running at the side of the water. Christian noticed that they were
+      going upstream. Presently they reached a cottage, and a woman came from
+      the open doorway at their approach. Without any greeting or word of
+      welcome she led the way down some wooden steps to the ferry-boat. As she
+      rowed them across, the journalist took note of everything in his quick,
+      keen way. The depth of the water, rapidity of current, and even the fact
+      that the boat woman was not paid for her services.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are we near our destination?&rdquo; he asked in English when he saw this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have five minutes more,&rdquo; replied the priest in the same language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On landing, they followed another small path for some distance,
+      down-stream. It was a quiet moss-grown path, with poplar trees on either
+      side, and appeared to be little used. Suddenly the young priest stopped.
+      There was the trunk of an elm tree lying on the inside of the path,
+      evidently cut for the purpose of making a rough seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us sit here a few minutes,&rdquo; said René.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obeyed. He sat forward and stretched his long legs out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am aching all over,&rdquo; he said impatiently; &ldquo;I wonder what it means!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest ignored the remark entirely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; he said presently, &ldquo;a few minutes more and my care of you
+      ceases. This journey will be over. For me it has been very eventful. In
+      these few days I have learnt more than I did during all the long years of
+      my education, and what I have learnt will never be forgotten. Without
+      breathing one word of religion you have taught me to respect yours;
+      without uttering a single complaint you have made me think with horror and
+      shame of the part I have played in this affair. I dare ... scarcely hope
+      that one day you will forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian raised his hand slowly to his forehead. The gleam of the sleek,
+      smooth water flowing past his feet made him giddy. He wondered vaguely if
+      the strange, dull feeling that was creeping over his senses was the result
+      of extreme fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You speak as if we were never going to meet again,&rdquo; he said dreamily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest did not answer for some moments. His slim hands were tightly
+      clasped upon his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is probable,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;that such will be the case. If our
+      friendship is discovered it is certain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then our friendship must not be discovered,&rdquo; said the practical
+      Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my friend, that would be deceit&mdash;duplicity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little duplicity, more or less, cannot matter much,&rdquo; replied Christian,
+      in a harder voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest looked up sharply, half fearing that his own treachery in the
+      matter of the letter was suspected. But his companion remained silent, and
+      the darkness prevented the expression of his face from being seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; continued the Englishman, after a long pause, &ldquo;I am to be left
+      here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a peculiar ring of weary indifference in his tone, as if it
+      mattered little where he was left. The priest noticed it and remembered it
+      later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing, my friend. I have but to obey my orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And close your mind against thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot prevent the thoughts from coming into my mind,&rdquo; replied the
+      priest gently, &ldquo;but I can keep them prisoners when they have entered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose suddenly, and led the way along the river bank. Had Christian's
+      manner been more encouraging he would have told him then and there about
+      the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose from
+      behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one of the
+      lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to René
+      Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after quitting the
+      carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and unsuspected. He
+      came, however, too late. Unconsciously, Christian had saved his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII. GREEK AND GREEK
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When they had walked about a hundred yards farther on, the footpath was
+      brought to a sudden termination by a house built across it to the water's
+      edge. In this lay the explanation of its scanty use and luxuriant growth
+      of moss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not a dark night, and without difficulty the priest found the
+      handle of a bell, of which, however, no sound reached their ears. The
+      door, cut deep in the stone, was opened after a short delay by a lay
+      brother who showed no signs of rigid fasting. Again Christian noticed that
+      no greeting was exchanged, no word of explanation offered or expected. The
+      lay brother led the way along a dimly lighted corridor, in which there
+      were doors upon each side at regular intervals. There was a chill and
+      stony feeling in the atmosphere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the corridor a gleam of light shone through a half-open door
+      upon the bare stone floor. Into this cell Christian was shown. Without
+      even noticing whether the priest followed him or not, he entered the tiny
+      room and threw himself wearily upon the bed. Although it was an intensely
+      hot night he shivered a little, and as he lay he clasped his head with
+      either hand. His eyes were dull and lifeless, and the colour had entirely
+      left his cheeks, though his lips were red and moist. He took no notice of
+      his surroundings, which, though simple and somewhat bare, were not devoid
+      of comfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, René Drucquer had followed the door-keeper up a broad
+      flight of stairs to a second corridor which was identical with that below,
+      except that a room took the place of this small entrance-lobby and broad
+      door. Thus the windows of this room were immediately above the river,
+      which rendered them entirely free from overlookers, as the land on the
+      opposite side was low and devoid of trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lay brother stopped in front of the door of this apartment, and
+      allowed the young priest to pass him and knock at the door with his own
+      hands. The response from within was uttered in such a low tone that if he
+      had not been listening most attentively René would not have heard it. He
+      opened the door, which creaked a little on its hinges, and passed into the
+      room alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In front of him a man dressed in a black soutane was seated at a table
+      placed before the window. The only lamp in the room, which was long and
+      narrow, stood on the table before him, so that the light of it was
+      reflected from his sleek black head disfigured by a tiny tonsure. As René
+      Drucquer advanced up the room, the occupant raised his head slightly, but
+      made no attempt to turn round. With a quick, unobtrusive movement of his
+      large white hand he moved the papers on the table before him, so that no
+      written matter remained exposed to view. Upon the table were several
+      books, and on the right-hand side of the plain inkstand stood a
+      beautifully carved stone crucifix, while upon the left there was a small
+      mirror no larger than a carte-de-visite. This was placed at a slight angle
+      upon a tiny wire easel, and by raising his eyes any person seated at the
+      table could at once see what was passing in the room behind him&mdash;the
+      entire apartment, including the door, being reflected in the mirror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though seated, the occupant of this peculiarly constructed room was
+      evidently tall. His shoulders, though narrow, were very square, and in any
+      other garment than a thin soutane his slightness of build would scarcely
+      have been noticeable. His head was of singular and remarkable shape. Very
+      narrow from temple to temple, it was quite level from the summit of the
+      high forehead to the spot where the tonsure gleamed whitely, and the
+      length of the skull from front to back was abnormal. The dullest observer
+      could not have failed to recognise that there was something extraordinary
+      in such a head, either for good or evil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbé Drucquer advanced across the bare stone floor, and took his stand
+      at the left side of the table, within a yard of his Provincial's elbow.
+      Before taking any notice of him, the Provincial opened a thick book bound
+      in dark morocco leather, of which the leaves were of white unruled paper,
+      interleaved, like a diary, with blotting paper. The pages were numbered,
+      although there was, apparently, no index attached to the volume. After a
+      moment's thought, the tall man turned to a certain folio which was
+      partially covered by a fine handwriting in short paragraphs. Then for the
+      first time he looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; he said, in full melodious voice. As he raised his face
+      the light of the lamp fell directly upon it. There was evidently no desire
+      to conceal any passing expression by the stale old method of a shaded
+      lamp. The face was worthy of the head. Clean-cut, calm, and dignified; it
+      was singularly fascinating, not only by reason of its beauty, which was
+      undeniable, but owing to the calm, almost superhuman power that lay in the
+      gaze of the velvety eyes. There was no keenness of expression, no
+      quickness of glance, and no seeking after effect by mobility of lash or
+      lid. When he raised his eyes, the lower lid was elevated simultaneously,
+      which peculiarity, concealing the white around the pupil, imparted an
+      uncomfortable sense of inscrutability. There was no expression beyond a
+      vague sense of velvety depth, such as is felt upon gazing for some space
+      of time down a deep well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; replied René Drucquer, meeting with some hesitation the
+      slow, kindly glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant forward and took from the tray of the inkstand a
+      quill pen. With the point of it he followed the lines written in the book
+      before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; he said, in a modulated and business-like tone, &ldquo;that you
+      have been entirely successful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes
+      once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in the
+      same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the book,
+      he returned to the written notes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You left,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening
+      you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you
+      arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part has
+      been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with all
+      expedition. So&mdash;&rdquo; here the Provincial raised the pen from the book
+      with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly,
+      &ldquo;so&mdash;you have been entirely successful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in
+      which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood
+      motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same
+      kind, even voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a
+      rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am sorry. Had you time&mdash;were you enabled to administer to him
+      the Holy Rites?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my father. He was killed at one blow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested
+      steadily on the book in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!&rdquo; he asked
+      indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I endeavoured to prevent such effect
+      arising, and&mdash;and in this the Englishman helped me greatly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young
+      priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching his
+      slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his black
+      soutane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; he said smoothly. &ldquo;As you know, I am a great advocate for
+      frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I
+      have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar treatment.
+      It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory respecting
+      your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with this
+      Englishman. Is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his hands
+      one over the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not such as I expected,&rdquo; he replied after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Provincial meditatively. &ldquo;They are a strange race. Some of
+      them are strong&mdash;very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish;
+      and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I think he is very intelligent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he violent or abusive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he was calm and almost indifferent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand in
+      the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window at
+      the end of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a seat, my son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have yet many questions to ask you. I
+      am afraid I forgot that you might be tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now tell me,&rdquo; he continued, when René had seated himself, &ldquo;do you think
+      this indifference was assumed by way of disarming suspicion and for the
+      purpose of effecting a speedy escape?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you converse together to any extent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were naturally thrown together a great deal; especially after the
+      death of the 'patron.' He was of great assistance to me and to Hoel Grall,
+      the second in command, by reason of his knowledge of seamanship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He is expert in such matters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A further note was here added to the partially-filled page of the
+      manuscript book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what subjects did he speak? Of religion, our Order, politics, himself
+      and his captivity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of none of those.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant back suddenly in his chair, and for some minutes
+      complete silence reigned in the room. He was evidently thinking deeply,
+      and his eyes were fixed upon the open book with inscrutable immobility.
+      Once he glanced slowly towards René Drucquer, who sat with downcast eyes
+      and interlocked fingers. Then he pressed back his elbows and inhaled a
+      deep breath, as if weary of sitting in one position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met Englishmen,&rdquo; he said speculatively, &ldquo;of a type similar&mdash;I
+      think&mdash;to this man. They never spoke of religion, of themselves or of
+      their own opinion; and yet they were not silent men. Upon most subjects
+      they could converse intelligently, and upon some with brilliancy; but
+      these subjects were invariably treated in a strictly general sense. Such
+      men <i>never</i> argue, and never appear to be highly interested in that
+      of which they happen to be speaking.... They make excellent listeners....&rdquo;
+       Here the speaker stopped for a moment and passed his long hand downwards
+      across his eyes as if the light were troubling his sight; in doing so he
+      glanced again towards the Abbé's fingers, which were now quite motionless,
+      the knuckles gleaming like ivory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... And one never knows quite how much they remember and how much they
+      forget. Perhaps it is that they hear everything ... and forget nothing. Is
+      our friend of this type, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is such men as he who have made that little island what it is. They
+      are difficult subjects; but they are liable to sacrifice their
+      opportunities to a mistaken creed they call honour, and therefore they are
+      not such dangerous enemies as they otherwise might have been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial said these words in a lighter manner, almost amounting to
+      pleasantry, and did not appear to notice that the priest moved uneasily in
+      his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;you have learnt nothing of importance during the
+      few days you have passed with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, my father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he make any attempt to communicate with his friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wrote a letter which he requested me to post.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial leant forward in his chair and took a pen in his right
+      hand, while he extended his left across the table towards his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I burnt it,&rdquo; said René gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! That is a pity. Why did you do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had discretion!&rdquo; replied the young priest, with quiet determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial examined the point of his pen critically, his perfectly
+      formed lips slightly apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he murmured reflectively. &ldquo;Yes, of course, you had discretion. What
+      was in the letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few words in English, telling his friends to have no anxiety, and
+      asking them particularly to institute no search, as he would return home
+      as soon as he desired to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! He said that, did he? And the letter was addressed to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial made another note in the manuscript book. Then he read the
+      whole page over carefully and critically. His attitude was like that of a
+      physician about to pronounce a diagnosis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said reflectively, without looking up, &ldquo;was there nothing
+      noticeable about him in any way? Nothing characteristic of the man, I
+      mean, and peculiar. How would you describe him, in fact?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say,&rdquo; replied René Drucquer, &ldquo;that his chief characteristic is
+      energy; but for some reason, during these last two days this seems to have
+      slowly evaporated. His resistance on Wednesday night was very energetic&mdash;he
+      dislocated my arm, and reset it later&mdash;and when the vessel was in
+      danger he was full of life. Later this peculiar indifference of manner
+      came over him, and hour by hour it has increased in power. It almost seems
+      as if he were anxious to keep away from England just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his long white finger to his upper lip. It was the
+      action of a man who is in the habit of tugging gently at his moustache
+      when in thought, and one would almost have said that the smooth-faced
+      priest had at no very distant period worn that manly ornament. His finger
+      passed over the shaded skin with a disagreeable, rasping sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That does not sound very likely,&rdquo; he said slowly. &ldquo;Have you any tangible
+      reason, to offer in support of this theory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my father. But the idea came to me, and so I mention it. It seemed as
+      if this desire came to him upon reflection, after the ship was out of
+      danger, and the indifference was contemporaneous with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial suddenly closed the book and laid aside his pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my son!&rdquo; he said, in smooth, heartless tones, &ldquo;I will not
+      trouble you any more to-night. You will need food and rest. Good night, my
+      son. You have done well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer rose and gravely passed down the long room. Before he
+      reached the door, however, the clear voice of his superior caused him to
+      pause for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you go down to the refectory,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;kindly make a request that
+      Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want you
+      to see him before I do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind René Drucquer the Provincial rose from his
+      seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the table.
+      Presently he drew aside the curtain which hid a small recess near the
+      door, whore a simple bed and a small table were concealed. With a brush he
+      smoothed back his sleek hair, and, dipping the ends of his fingers into a
+      basin of water, he wiped them carefully. Thus he prepared to receive
+      Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to his chair and seated himself somewhat wearily. Although
+      there were but few papers on the table, he had three hours' hard work
+      before him yet. He leant back, and again, that singular gesture, as if to
+      stroke a moustache that was not there, was noticeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a dull presentiment,&rdquo; he muttered reflectively, &ldquo;that we have made
+      a mistake here. We have gone about it in the wrong way, and if there is
+      blame to be attached to any one, Talma is the man. That temper of his is
+      fatal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause he heaved a weary sigh, and stretched his long arms out on
+      either side, enjoying a free and open yawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah me!&rdquo; he sighed, &ldquo;what an uphill fight this has become, and day by day
+      it grows harder. Day by day we lose power; one hold after another slips
+      from our grasp. Perhaps it means that this vast organisation is effete&mdash;perhaps,
+      after all, we are dying of inanition, and yet&mdash;yet it should not be,
+      for we have the people still.... Ah! I hear footsteps. This is our
+      journalistic friend, no doubt. I think he will prove interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later someone knocked softly at the door. There was a slight
+      shuffling of feet, and Christian Vellacott entered the room alone. There
+      was a peculiar dull expression in his eyes, as if he were suffering pain,
+      mental or physical. After glancing at the mirror, the Provincial rose and
+      bowed formally with his hand upon the back of his chair. As the Englishman
+      came forward the Jesuit glanced at his face, and with a polite motion of
+      the hand he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, take the trouble of seating yourself,&rdquo; speaking in French at once,
+      with no apology, as if well aware that his companion knew that language as
+      perfectly as his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; replied Christian. He drew the chair slightly forward as he
+      seated himself, and fixed his eyes upon the Jesuit's face. Through the
+      entire interview he never removed his gaze, and he noticed that until the
+      last words were spoken those soft, deep eyes were never raised to his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said the Jesuit at length, almost humbly, &ldquo;that we are
+      irreconcilable enemies, Mr. Vellacott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manner in which this was spoken did not bear the slightest resemblance
+      to the cold superiority with which René Drucquer had been treated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman sat with one lean hand resting on the table and watched. He
+      knew that some reply was expected, but in face of that knowledge he chose
+      to remain silent. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek. The inscrutable
+      Provincial had met a foeman worthy of his steel at last. His strange
+      magnetic influence threw itself vainly against a will as firm as his own,
+      and he felt that his incidental effects, dramatic and conversational, fell
+      flat. Instantly he became interested in Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need hardly remind a man of your discrimination, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; he
+      continued tentatively, &ldquo;that there are two sides to every question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman smiled and moved slightly in his chair, drawing in his feet
+      and leaning forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Implying, I presume,&rdquo; he said lightly, &ldquo;that in this particular question
+      you are on one side and I upon the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! it seems so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott leant back in his chair again and crossed his legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my turn,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;I must remind you, monsieur, that I am a
+      journalist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and waited for his
+      companion to continue. His silence and the momentary motion of his
+      eyebrows, which in no way affected the lids, expressed admirably his
+      failure to see the connection of his companion's remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which means,&rdquo; Christian went on to explain, &ldquo;that my place is not upon
+      either side of the question, but in the middle. I belong to no party, and
+      I am the enemy of no man. I do not lead men's opinions. It is my duty to
+      state facts as plainly and as coldly as possible in order that my
+      countrymen may form their own judgment. It may appear that at one time I
+      write upon one side of the question; the next week I may seem to write
+      upon the other. That is one of the misfortunes of my calling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we are not necessarily enemies,&rdquo; said the Jesuit softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;not necessarily. On the other hand,&rdquo; continued Christian, with
+      daring deliberation, &ldquo;it is not at all necessary that we should be
+      friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit smiled slightly&mdash;so slightly that it was the mere ghost of
+      a smile, affecting the lines of his small mouth, but in no way relieving
+      the soft darkness of his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we are enemies,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He whose follower I am, said that all who
+      are not with Him are against Him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman's lips closed suddenly, and a peculiar stony look came over
+      his face. There was one subject upon which he had determined not to
+      converse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am instructed,&rdquo; continued the Provincial, with a sudden change of
+      manner from pleasant to practical, &ldquo;to ask of you a written promise never
+      to write one word either for or against the Society of Jesus again. In
+      exchange for that promise I am empowered to tender to you the sincere
+      apologies of the Society for the inconvenience to which you may have been
+      put, and to assist you in every way to return home at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A great silence followed this speech. A small clock suspended somewhere in
+      the room ticked monotonously, otherwise there was no sound audible. The
+      two men sat within a yard of each other, each thinking, of the other in
+      his individual way, from his individual point of view, the Jesuit with
+      downcast eyes, his companion watching his immobile features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Christian Vellacott's full and quiet tones broke the spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said simply, &ldquo;I refuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial rose from his seat, pushing it back as he did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I will not detain you any longer. You are no doubt fatigued. The lay
+      brother waiting outside will show you the room assigned to you, and at
+      whatever time of day or night you may wish to see me, remember that I am
+      at your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian rose also. He appeared to hesitate, and then to grasp the table
+      with both hands to assist himself. He stood for a moment, and suddenly
+      tottered forward. Had not the Provincial caught him he would have fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My head turns,&rdquo; he mumbled incoherently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter? ... what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit slipped his arm round him&mdash;a slight arm, but as hard and
+      strong as steel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are tired,&rdquo; he said sympathetically, &ldquo;perhaps you have a little touch
+      of fever. Come, I will assist you to your room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the two men passed out together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII. STRICKEN DOWN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In later days Christian Vellacott could bring back to his memory no
+      distinct recollection of that first night spent in the monastery. There
+      was an indefinite remembrance of the steady, monotonous clang of a bell in
+      the first hours, doubtless the tolling of the matins, calling the elect to
+      prayer at midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After that he must have fallen into a deep, lethargic sleep, for he never
+      heard the distant strains of the organ and the melodious chanting of gruff
+      voices. The strange, unquiet melody hovered over him in the little cell,
+      following him as he glided away from earth upon the blessed wings of
+      sleep, and haunted his restless dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The monks were early astir next morning, for the sweet smell of drying hay
+      filled the air, and the second crop of the fruitful earth lay waiting to
+      be stacked. With tucked-up gowns and bared arms the sturdy devotees worked
+      with rake and pitchfork. No whispered word passed between them; none
+      raised his head to look around upon the smiling landscape or search in the
+      cloudless sky for the tiny lark whose morning hymn rippled down to them.
+      Each worked on in silence, tossing the scented hay, his mind being no
+      doubt filled with thoughts above all earthly things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near at hand lay a carefully-kept vegetable garden of large dimensions.
+      Here grew in profusion all nourishing roots and herbs, but there was no
+      sign of more luscious fruits. Small birds hopped and fluttered here and
+      there unheeded and unmolested, calling to each other joyously, and the
+      warming air was alive with the hum of tinier wings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this walked man&mdash;the lord of all&mdash;humbly,
+      silently, with bowed head and unadmiring eyes&mdash;man whose life was
+      vouchsafed for the enjoyment of all these things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little square patch of sunlight lay on the stone floor of the small cell
+      allotted to Christian Vellacott. The thick oak door deadened the sounds of
+      life in the monastery, such as they were, and the strong, laboured
+      breathing of the young Englishman alone broke the chill silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian lay, all dressed, on the narrow bed. His eyes were half closed,
+      and the ruddy brown of his cheeks had faded into an ashy grey. His
+      clenched hands lay numbly at his side. Through his open, swollen lips
+      meaningless words came in a hoarse whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the door opened with a creaking sound, but the sleeper moved no
+      limb or feature. René Drucquer entered the cell and ran quickly to the
+      bedside. Behind, with more dignity and deliberation, followed the
+      sub-prior of the monastery. The young priest had obtained permission from
+      his Provincial to see Christian Vellacott for a few moments before his
+      hurried departure for India. Thus René had received his mission sooner
+      than he had hoped for. The astute and far-seeing Provincial had from the
+      beginning intended that René Drucquer should be removed from harm's way
+      without delay once his disagreeable mission to St. Mary Western was
+      performed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father,&rdquo; exclaimed the young priest in alarm, &ldquo;he is dying!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The venerable sub-prior bent his head over the bed. He was a tall, spare
+      man, with very sunken cheeks, and a marvellous expression of placid
+      contentment in his eyes such as one never finds in the face of a young
+      monk. He was very learned in medicines, and in the administration of such
+      simple herbs as were required to remedy the illnesses within the monastery
+      walls. Perhaps some of his patients died when they might have lived under
+      more skilled treatment, but it is a short and easy step from life to death
+      within a comfortless cell, and his bony hands were as tender over his sick
+      brethren as those of a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt the Englishman's pulse and watched his ashen face for some
+      moments, touching the clammy forehead softly, while René Drucquer stood by
+      with a great sickening weight of remorse and fear upon his heart. Then the
+      sub-prior knelt stiffly down, and placed his clean-shaven lips near to
+      Christian's ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you hear me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian breathed less heavily, as if he were listening to some far-off
+      sound, but never moved a feature. Presently he began to murmur
+      incoherently, and the sub-prior bent his ear to listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much good would a blessing of mine do you, Hilda,&rdquo; observed Christian
+      into the reverend ear. The old gentleman raised his cadaverous head and
+      looked somewhat puzzled. Again he listened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look after Aunt Judy&mdash;she cannot last long,&rdquo; murmured the young
+      Englishman in his native tongue, which was unknown to the monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is fever,&rdquo; said the sub-prior presently&mdash;&ldquo;one of those terrible
+      fevers which kill men as the cold kills flies!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No thought seemed to enter the monk's mind of possible infection. He knelt
+      upon the cold floor with one bare and bony arm beneath the sick man's
+      head, while the other lay across his breast. He was looking intently into
+      the veiled eyes, inhaling the very breath of the swollen lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will he die, my father?&rdquo; asked René Drucquer in a whisper; his face was
+      as pale as Vellacott's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in the hands of the good God,&rdquo; was the pious answer. The tall monk
+      rose to his feet and stood before the bed thinking. He rubbed his bony
+      hands together slowly. Through the tiny window a shaft of sunlight poured
+      down upon his grizzled head, and showed up relentlessly the deep furrows
+      that ran diagonally down from his cheek-bone to his chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must watch here, my son,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;while I inform the
+      Father-Provincial of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The venerable sub-prior was no Jesuit, and perhaps he would have been just
+      as well pleased had the Provincial elected to live elsewhere than in the
+      monastery. But the Prior&mdash;an old man of ninety, and incapable of work
+      or thought&mdash;was completely in the power of the Society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he found himself alone with the Englishman, René Drucquer sat wearily
+      upon a small wooden bench, the only form of seat provided, and leaned his
+      narrow face upon his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The prospect that he saw before him as he sat staring vacantly at the
+      floor of the little cell was black enough. He saw no possible outlet, and
+      he had not the courage to force his way through the barriers erected all
+      round him. It must be remembered that he was a Roman Catholic, and over a
+      sincere disciple of the Mother Church the power of the Jesuits is greater
+      than man should ever be allowed to exercise. The slavery that England
+      fought against so restlessly is nothing to it, for mental bondage is
+      infinitely heavier than physical service. He had determined to accept the
+      Provincial's offer of missionary work in Asia, but the sudden horror of
+      realising that he was a Jesuit, and could never be anything else than a
+      Jesuit for the rest of his days, was fresh upon him. He was too young yet
+      to find consolation in the thought that he at all events could attempt to
+      steer a clear, unsullied course through the shoals and quicksands that
+      surround a priest's existence, and he was too old to buoy himself up with
+      the false hope that he might, despite his Jesuit's oath, do some good work
+      for his Church. His awakening had been rendered more terrible by the
+      brilliancy of the dreams which it had interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not looked upon Christian Vellacott as a victim hitherto, for the
+      bravest receive the least sympathy, and the young Englishman's cool way of
+      treating his reverse of fortune had repelled pity or commiseration. But
+      now all that was changed. Whatever this sickness might prove to be, René
+      Drucquer felt that the blame of it lay at his own door. If Christian
+      Vellacott were to die, he, René Drucquer, was in the eyes of God a
+      murderer, for he had forcibly brought him to his death. This was an
+      unpleasant reflection for a young devotee whose inward soul was full of
+      human kindness; and the presence of the strong man who lay gasping for
+      breath upon the narrow, comfortless bed was not reassuring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only natural that those thoughts, coupled with the realisation of
+      the aimlessness of his own existence, should have bred in the young
+      Jesuit's heart a dull fire of antagonism against the man who was in
+      immediate authority over him, and when the Provincial noiselessly entered
+      the cell a few minutes later, he felt a sudden thrill of misgiving at the
+      thought that his feelings were sacred to none&mdash;that this man with his
+      deep, inscrutable eyes could read the face of his very soul like an open
+      book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this, René Drucquer was right. The Provincial was fully aware of the
+      presence of this spirit of antagonism, and, moreover, he knew that it
+      extended to the taciturn sub-prior who accompanied him. But this knowledge
+      in no way disturbed him. The spirit of antagonism had met him in every
+      turn of life. It was so familiar that he had learned to despise it.
+      Hitherto he had never failed in any undertaking, and he had never been
+      turned aside from the execution of his purpose by the fear of incurring
+      the enmity of men. Such minds as this make their mark in the line of life
+      which they take up, and if they do not happen to win the love of their
+      fellow-beings, they get on remarkably well without it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial came into the cell with a singular noiselessness of motion.
+      His pale face expressed neither surprise nor annoyance, and his eyes
+      rested upon the form of the sick man with no sign of apprehension. He
+      approached, and with his long white finger touched Christian's wrist. For
+      a few moments he watched the uneasy movements of his flushed face, and
+      then he turned aside, without, however, leaving the bedside. Here again
+      there seemed to be no fear or thought of infection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior stood behind him with clasped hands, while René, who had
+      risen from his seat, was near at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This man, my father,&rdquo; said the Provincial coldly, &ldquo;must not die. You must
+      take every care, and spare no expense or trouble. If it is necessary you
+      can have doctors from Nantes. I will bear every expense, and I shall be
+      grieved to hear of his death!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to leave the cell. He was a busy man, and his visit had
+      already lasted nearly three minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      René Drucquer stepped forward hurriedly. He was between his superior and
+      the door, so that he was in a position to command attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father,&rdquo; he pleaded, &ldquo;may I nurse him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly; then he waved his
+      hand, commanding the young priest to stand aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said softly, &ldquo;you must leave for Nantes in half-an-hour,&rdquo; and he
+      passed out into the noiseless corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV. BACK TO LIFE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      One mellow autumnal evening, when the sunlight reflected from the white
+      monastery walls upon the fruit trees climbing there was still warm and
+      full of ripening glow, the Provincial was taking his post-prandial
+      promenade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is, perhaps, needless to observe that he was alone. No one ever walked
+      with the Provincial. No footstep ever crushed the gravel in harmony with
+      his gliding tread. Perhaps, indeed, no one had ever walked with him thus,
+      in the twilight, since a fairy, dancing form had moved in the shadow of
+      his tall person, and footsteps lighter than his own had vainly endeavoured
+      to keep time with his longer limbs. But that was in no monastery garden;
+      and the useful, vegetable producing enclosure bore little resemblance to
+      the château terrace. In those days it may be that there was a gleam of
+      life in the man's deep, velvety eyes&mdash;perhaps, indeed, a moustache
+      adorned the short, twisted lip where the white fingers rasped so
+      frequently now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pious monks were busy with their evening meal, and the Provincial was
+      quite alone in the garden. All around him the leaves glowed ruddily in the
+      warm light. Everywhere the fruits of earth were ripe and full with mature
+      beauty; but the solitary walker noted none of these. He paced backwards
+      and forwards with downcast eyes, turning slowly and indifferently as if it
+      mattered little where he walked. The merry blackbirds in the hay field
+      adjoining the garden called to each other continuously, and from a hidden
+      rookery came the voice of the dusky settlers, which is, perhaps, the
+      saddest sound in all nature's harmonies. But the Jesuit resolutely refused
+      to listen. Once, however, he stopped and stood motionless for some
+      seconds, with his head turned slightly to meet the distant cry; but he
+      never raised his eyes, which were deep and lifeless in their gaze. It may
+      be that there was a rookery near that southern château, where he once had
+      walked in the solemn evening hour, or perhaps he did not hear that sound
+      at all though his ear was turned towards it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would be hard indeed to read from the priest's still features the
+      thoughts that might be passing through his powerful brain; but the strange
+      influence of his being was such as makes itself felt without any spoken
+      word. As he walked there with his long hands clasped behind his back, his
+      peculiarly shaped head bent slightly forward, and his perfect lips closely
+      pressed, no one could have looked at him without feeling instinctively
+      that no ordinary mind was busy beneath the tiny tonsure&mdash;that no
+      ordinary soul breathed there for weal or woe, seeking after higher things
+      in the right way or the wrong. The man's cultivated repose of manner, his
+      evident intellectuality, and his subtle strength of purpose visible in
+      every glance of his eyes, betrayed that although his life might be passed
+      in the calm retreat of a monastery, his soul was not there. The man was
+      never created to pass his existence in prayerful meditation; his mission
+      was one of strife and contention amidst the strong minds of the age. One
+      felt that he was living in this quiet Breton valley for a purpose; that
+      from this peaceful spot he was dexterously handling wires that caused
+      puppets&mdash;aye, puppets with golden crowns&mdash;to dance, and smirk,
+      and bow in the farthest corners of the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the Jesuit heard footsteps upon the gravel at the far side of
+      the garden, but he did not raise his head. His interest in the trivial
+      incidents of everyday life appeared to be quite dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Softly, softly!&rdquo; said a deep, rough voice, which the Provincial
+      recognised as that of the sub-prior; then he raised his eyes slightly and
+      looked across the garden, without, however, altering his pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw there Christian Vellacott walking by the side of the hard-faced old
+      monk with long, hesitating strides, like a man who had forgotten how to
+      use his legs. It was exactly six weeks since the young journalist had
+      passed through that garden with René Drucquer, and those weeks had been to
+      him a strange and not unpleasant dream. It seemed as if the man lying upon
+      that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic Christian
+      Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily comfortable
+      from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a speculative
+      description, as if he looked on things from afar off. Nothing seemed to
+      matter much. There was an all-pervading sense of restful indifference as
+      to whether it might be night or day, morning, noon, or evening. All
+      responsibility in existence seemed to have left him: his ready pride of
+      self-dependence had given way to a gentle obedience, and the passage from
+      wakefulness to sleep was very sweet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through all those dreamy hours he heard the soft rustle of woollen
+      garments and the suppressed shuffle of sandalled feet. Whenever he opened
+      his heavy eyes he discerned vaguely in the dim light a grey, still form
+      seated upon the plain wooden bench at his bedside. Whenever he tried to
+      change his position upon the hard bed and his weary bones refused their
+      function, strong, hard hands were slipped beneath him and kind assistance
+      freely given. As a rule, it was the tall sub-prior who ministered to the
+      sick man, fighting the dread fever with all his simple knowledge; his
+      hands smoothed oftenest the tossed pillow; but many clean-shaven, strong,
+      and weary faces were bowed over the bed during those six weeks, for there
+      was a competition for the post of sick-nurse. The monks loved to feel that
+      they were performing some tangible good, and not spending their hours over
+      make-believe tasks like a man-of-warsman in fine weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One frequent visitor, however, Christian Vellacott never saw beneath his
+      lazy lashes. The Provincial never entered that little cell unless he was
+      positively informed that its inmate was asleep. The inscrutable Jesuit
+      seemed almost to be ashamed of the anxiety that he undoubtedly felt
+      respecting the sick man thus thrown upon his hands by a peculiar chain of
+      incidents. He spoke coldly and sarcastically to the sub-prior whenever he
+      condescended to mention the subject at all; but no day passed in which he
+      failed to pay at least one visit to the little cell at the end of the
+      long, silent corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Softly, softly!&rdquo; said the old sub-prior, holding out his bony hand to
+      stay his companion's progress, &ldquo;you are too ambitious, my son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian laughed in a low, weak voice, and raised his head to look round
+      him. The laugh ceased suddenly as he caught sight of the Provincial, and
+      across the potato-bed the two strong men looked speculatively into each
+      other's eyes in the peaceful twilight. The Jesuit's gaze fell first, and
+      with a dignified bow he moved gently away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am stronger than I look, my father,&rdquo; said Christian, turning to his
+      companion. Then they walked slowly on, and presently rested upon a wooden
+      bench built against the monastery wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young Englishman leaned back and watched the Provincial, who was
+      pacing backwards and forwards where they had first seen him. The old monk
+      sat with clasped hands, and gravely contemplated the gravel beneath his
+      feet. Thus they waited together within the high, whitewashed walls, while
+      the light faded from the western sky. Three types, as strangely contrasted
+      as the student of human kind could wish to see: the old monk with his
+      placid bloodless face and strong useless arms&mdash;a wasted energy, a
+      mere monument to mistaken zeal; and the younger men so widely severed by
+      social circumstances, and yet resembling each other somewhat in heart and
+      soul. Each had a strong individuality&mdash;each a great and far-reaching
+      vitality. Each was, in his way, a power in the world, as all strong minds
+      are; for in face of what may be said (and with apparent justice)
+      respecting chance and mere good fortune, good men must come to the top
+      among their fellows. They must&mdash;and most assuredly they do. As in
+      olden days the doughtiest knights sought each other in the battlefield to
+      measure steel, so in these later times the ruling intellects of the day
+      meet and clear a circle round them. The Provincial was a power in the
+      Society of Jesus; perhaps he was destined one day to be General of it; and
+      Christian Vellacott had suddenly appeared upon the field of politic
+      strife, heralding his arrival with two most deadly blows dealt in masterly
+      succession. From the first they were sure to come together, sooner or
+      later; and now, when they were separated by nothing more formidable than a
+      bed of potatoes, they were glancing askance and longing to be at each
+      other. But it could not be. Had the sub-prior left the garden it would
+      have made no difference. It was morally impossible that those two men
+      could speak what they were thinking, for one of them was a Jesuit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial, however, made the first move, and the Englishman often
+      wondered in later days what his intention might have been. He walked on to
+      the northern end of the garden, where a few thick-stemmed pear trees were
+      trained against the wall. The fruit was hanging in profusion, for it was
+      not consumed in the monastery but given to the poor at harvest-time. The
+      Provincial selected a brown, ripe pear, and broke it delicately from the
+      tree without allowing his fingers to come in contact with the fruit
+      itself. Then he turned and walked with the same lazy precision towards the
+      two other occupants of the garden. At his approach the sub-prior rose from
+      his seat and stood motionless with clasped hands; there was a faint
+      suggestion of antagonism in his attitude, which was quite devoid of
+      servility. Christian, however, remained seated, raising his keen grey eyes
+      to the Provincial's face with a quiet self-assertion which the Jesuit
+      ignored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad, Monsieur, to see you restored to health,&rdquo; he said coldly to
+      Christian, meeting his gaze for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman bowed very slightly, and there was a peculiar
+      expressiveness in the action which betrayed his foreign education, but the
+      cool silence with which he waited for the Provincial to speak again was
+      essentially British. The Jesuit moved and glanced slowly beneath his
+      lowered eyelids towards the motionless figure of the sub-prior. He was too
+      highly bred to allow himself to be betrayed into any sign of
+      embarrassment, and too clever to let the Englishman see that he was
+      hesitating. After a momentary pause he turned gravely to the sub-prior,
+      and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you allow your patient, my brother, to taste of our fruit? it is
+      ripe and wholesome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, without awaiting a reply, he presented the pear to Vellacott. It was
+      a strange action, and no doubt there was some deep intention in it. The
+      Jesuit must have known, however, from René Drucquer's report, and from his
+      own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a mould to
+      allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this description,
+      however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit in which it
+      was conceived. Perhaps he read the Englishman's character totally wrong,
+      although his experience of men must have been very great; or perhaps he
+      really wished to conciliate him, and took this first step with the
+      graceful delicacy of his nation, with a view to following it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a conventional word of thanks, Vellacott took the pear and set it
+      down upon the bench at his side. Whatever the Jesuit's intention might
+      have been, it was frustrated by his quiet action. It would have been so
+      easy to have said a few words of praise regarding the fruit, and it was
+      only natural to have begun eating it at once; but Vellacott read a deeper
+      meaning in all this, and he chose a more difficult course. It was
+      assuredly harder to keep silence then than to talk, and a weaker-minded
+      man would have thanked the Provincial with effusion. The manner in which
+      Vellacott laid the fruit upon the bench, his quiet and deliberate silence,
+      conveyed unmistakably and intentionally that the Provincial's society was
+      as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. There was nothing to be done but take
+      the hint; and in the lowering twilight the solitary, miserable man moved
+      reluctantly away. With contemplative hardness of heart the Englishman
+      watched him go; there was no feeling of triumph in his soul&mdash;neither,
+      however, was there pity. The Jesuit had chosen his own path, he had
+      reached his goal, and that most terrible thirst&mdash;the thirst for power&mdash;was
+      nearly slaked. If at times&mdash;at the end of a long day of hard mental
+      work, when men's hearts are softened by weariness and lowering peace&mdash;he
+      desired something else than power, some little touch of human sympathy
+      perhaps, his was the blame if no heart responded to his own. Christian
+      Vellacott sat and wondered dreamily, with the nonchalance of a man who has
+      been at the very gates of death, if power were worth this purchase-money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior had seated himself again, and with his strong hands meekly
+      clasped he waited. He knew that something was passing which he could not
+      understand: his dull instincts told him vaguely that between these two
+      strong men there was war-fare, dumb, sullen, and merciless; but unused as
+      he was to the ways of men, unlearned in the intricacies of human thoughts,
+      he could not read more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not told me yet, my father,&rdquo; said Vellacott, &ldquo;how long I have
+      been ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six weeks, my son,&rdquo; replied the taciturn monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was very bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, very bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian slowly rubbed his thin hands together. His fingers were moist
+      and singularly white, with a bleached appearance about the knuckles. His
+      face was thin, but not emaciated, his long jaw and somewhat pronounced
+      chin were not more bony than of old, but the expression of his mouth was
+      quite changed; his lips were no longer thrust upward with a determined
+      curve, and a smile seemed nearer at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a faint recollection of being very tenderly nursed and cared for;
+      generally by you, I think. No doubt you saved my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior moved a little, and drew in his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter was not in my hands,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman, with some tact, allowed this remark to pass in acquiescent
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever think that ... I was not ... going back to England?&rdquo; he
+      asked presently, in a lighter tone, though the thought of returning home
+      brought no smile to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sub-prior did not reply at once. He appeared to be thinking deeply,
+      for he leaned forward in an unmonastic attitude with his knees apart, his
+      elbows resting upon them, and his hands clasped. He gazed across the
+      prosaic potato-bed with his colourless lips slightly apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One night,&rdquo; he began meditatively, &ldquo;I went to sit with you after the bell
+      for matins had been rung. From midnight till three o'clock you never
+      moved. Then I gave you some cordial, and as I stooped over you the candle
+      flickered a little; there were strange shadows upon your face, but around
+      your lips there was a deeper shade. I had seen it once before, on my
+      brother's face when he lay upon the hard Paris pavement with a bullet in
+      his lungs, and his breath whistling through the orifice as the wind
+      whistles round our walls in winter. I held the candle closer to your face,
+      and as I did so, a hand came over my shoulder and took it from my fingers.
+      The Father Provincial had come to help me. He said no word, but set the
+      candle down upon the bed, and I held you up while he administered the
+      cordial drop by drop, as a man oils a cartwheel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Christian slowly and suggestively, &ldquo;<i>he</i> was there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk made no reply. He sat motionless, with a calm, acquired silence,
+      which might have meant much or nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he come often?&rdquo; inquired the Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very often.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This, again, was met with silence. Presently the sub-prior continued his
+      narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When daylight came at last,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the shadow had left your lips. I
+      think that night was the worst; it was then that you were nearer ...
+      nearer than at any other time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott was strong enough now to take his usual interest in
+      outward things. With the writer's instinct he went through the world
+      looking round him, always studying men and things, watching, listening,
+      and storing up experience. The Provincial interested him greatly, but he
+      did not dare to show his curiosity; he hesitated to penetrate the darkness
+      that surrounded the man's life, past, present, and future. In a minor
+      degree the taciturn sub-prior arrested his attention. The old monk was in
+      a communicative humour, and the Englishman led him on a little without
+      thinking much about the fairness of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your brother die?&rdquo; he asked sympathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Yes, my son, he died&mdash;died cursing the
+      tyrant's bullet in his lungs. He threw away his life in a vain attempt to
+      alter human nature, to set straight that which is crooked and cannot be
+      set straight. He sought to bring about at once that which cometh not until
+      the lion shall eat straw like an ox. See, my son, that you do not attempt
+      the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Christian, after a pause, &ldquo;that we all try a little, and
+      perhaps some day a great accumulation of little efforts will take place.
+      You, my father, have tried as well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk slowly shook his head, without, however, any great display of
+      conviction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not always a monk,&rdquo; he said, as if seeking to excuse a bygone
+      folly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly dark now. The birds were silent, and only the whispering of
+      the crisp, withering leaves broke the solemn hush of eventide. The two men
+      sat side by side without speaking. They had learnt to know each other
+      fairly well during the last weeks&mdash;so well that between them silence
+      was entirely restful. At length Christian moved restlessly. He had reached
+      that stage of convalescence where a position becomes irksome after a short
+      time. It was merely a sign of returning strength.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the Abbé Drucquer,&rdquo; he asked abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He left us some time ago,&rdquo; was the guarded reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He spoke of going abroad,&rdquo; said Christian, deliberately ignoring the
+      sub-prior's tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Father Provincial told me that the Abbé had gone abroad&mdash;to
+      India&mdash;to spread there the Holy Light to such as are still in
+      darkness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young journalist thought that he detected again a faint suggestion of
+      antagonism in the sub-prior's voice. The manner in which the information
+      was imparted was almost an insult to the Provincial. It was a repetition
+      of his words, given in such a manner that had the speaker been a man of
+      subtle tongue it would have implied grave doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian was somewhat surprised that René Drucquer should have attained
+      his object so quickly. He never suspected that he himself might have had
+      much to do with it, that it had been deemed expedient to remove the young
+      priest beyond the possible reach of his influence, because he was quite
+      unconscious of this influence. He did not know that its power had affected
+      René Drucquer, and that some reflection of it had even touched the
+      self-contained Provincial&mdash;that it was even now making this old
+      sub-prior talk more openly than was prudent or wise. He happened to be
+      taking the question from a very different point of view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV. BACK TO WORK
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Day by day Christian Vellacott recovered strength. The enforced rest, and
+      perhaps also the monastic peacefulness of his surroundings, contributed
+      greatly towards this. In mental matters as in physical we are subject to
+      contagion, and from the placid recluses, vegetating unheeded in the heart
+      of Brittany, their prisoner acquired a certain restfulness of mind which
+      was eminently beneficial to his body. Life inside those white walls was so
+      sleepy and withal so pleasant that it was physically and mentally
+      impossible to think and worry over events that might be passing in the
+      outer world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, however, Christian began to feel idle, which is a good sign in
+      invalids; and soon the days became long and irksome. He began to take an
+      increased interest in his surroundings, and realised at once how little he
+      knew of the existence going on about him. Though he frequently passed, in
+      the dim corridors and cloisters, a silent, grey-clad figure, exchanging
+      perhaps with him a scarcely perceptible salutation, he had never spoken
+      with any other inmates of the monastery than the Provincial and the
+      sub-prior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He noticed also that the watchful care of the nurse had imperceptibly
+      glided into that of a warder. He was never allowed out of his cell unless
+      accompanied by the sub-prior&mdash;in fact, he was a state prisoner. His
+      daily walks never extended beyond the one path near the potato bed, or
+      backwards and forwards at the sunny end of the garden, where the huge
+      pears hung ripely. From neither point was any portion of the surrounding
+      country visible, but the Provincial could not veil the sun, and Christian
+      knew where lay the west and where the east.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No possible opportunity for escape presented itself, but the Englishman
+      was storing up strength and knowledge all the while. He knew that things
+      would not go on for long like this, and felt that the Provincial would
+      sooner or later summon him to the long room at the end of the corridor
+      upon the upper floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This call came to him three weeks after the day when the two men had met
+      in the garden&mdash;nine weeks after the Englishman's captivity had
+      commenced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; said the sub-prior one afternoon, &ldquo;the Father Provincial wishes
+      to speak with you to-day at three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian glanced up at the great monastery clock, which declared the time
+      to be a quarter to three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ready,&rdquo; he said quietly. There was no tremor in his voice or light
+      in his eyes, and he continued walking leisurely by the side of the old
+      monk; but a sudden thrill of pleasant anticipation warmed his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later they entered the monastery and mounted the stone stairs
+      together. As they walked along the corridor the clock in the tower
+      overhead struck three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will wait for you at the foot of the stairs,&rdquo; said the monk slowly, as
+      if with some compunction. Then he led the way to the end of the corridor
+      and knocked at the door. He stood back, as if the Provincial were in the
+      habit of keeping knockers waiting. Such was, at all events, the case now,
+      and some minutes elapsed before a clear, low voice bade him enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The monk opened the door and stood back against the wall for Christian to
+      pass in. The Provincial was seated at the table near the window, which was
+      open, the afternoon being sultry although the autumn was nearly over. At
+      his left hand stood the small Venetian mirror which enabled him to see who
+      was behind him without turning round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly, with
+      one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the
+      left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be good enough&mdash;Mr. Vellacott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and
+      fixed them upon the Englishman's face. The action was slightly dramatic,
+      but very effective, and clearly showed that he was accustomed to find the
+      eyes of others quail before his. Christian met the gaze with a calmness
+      more difficult to meet than open defiance. After a moment they turned away
+      simultaneously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need scarcely,&rdquo; said the Provincial, with singular sweetness of manner,
+      which, however, was quite devoid of servility, &ldquo;apologise to you,
+      Monsieur, for speaking in French, as it is almost your native language.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian bowed, at the same time edging somewhat nearer to the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are one or two matters,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, speaking faster,
+      &ldquo;upon which I have been instructed to treat with you; but first I must
+      congratulate you upon your restoration to health. Your illness has been
+      very serious... I trust that you have had nothing to complain of... in the
+      treatment which you have received at our hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian, while sitting quite motionless, was making an exhaustive survey
+      of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; he said, in a conventional tone which, in comparison to
+      his companion's manner, was almost brutal, &ldquo;it is probably owing to the
+      care of the sub-prior that I am alive at the present moment, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped suddenly; an almost imperceptible motion of the Jesuit's
+      straight eyebrows warned him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And...?&rdquo; repeated the Provincial, interrogatively. He leant back in his
+      chair with an obvious air of interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am very grateful&mdash;&mdash;to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reverend father is a great doctor,&rdquo; said the Jesuit lightly. &ldquo;Excuse
+      me,&rdquo; he continued, rising and leaning across the table, &ldquo;I will close the
+      window; the air from the river begins to grow cool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The journalist moved slightly, looking over his shoulder towards the
+      window; at the same moment he altered, with his elbow, the position of the
+      small mirror standing upon the table. Instead of reflecting the whole
+      room, including the door at the end, it now reproduced the blank wall at
+      the side opposed to the curtained recess where the bed was placed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, Mr. Vellacott,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, &ldquo;I must
+      beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual
+      frankness, and&mdash;and it seems to me that a certain allowance for
+      respective circumstances can well be demanded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became absorbed
+      for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From your pen,&rdquo; he then said, in a businesslike monotone, &ldquo;there has
+      emanated a serious and hitherto unproved charge against the Holy Society
+      of Jesus. It came at a critical moment in the political strife then raging
+      in France; and, in proportion to the attention it attracted, harm and
+      calumny accrued to the Society. I am told that your motives were purely
+      patriotic, and your desire was nothing beyond a most laudable one of
+      keeping your countrymen out of difficulties. Before I had the pleasure of
+      seeing you I said, 'This is a young journalist who, at any expense, and
+      even at the sacrifice of truth, wishes to make a name in the world and
+      force himself into public attention.' Since then I have withdrawn that
+      opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During these remarks the Provincial had not raised his eyes from the
+      table. He now leant back in the chair and contemplated his own clasped
+      hands. Christian had listened attentively. His long, grave face was turned
+      slightly towards the Provincial, and his eyes were perhaps a little softer
+      in their gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I endeavoured,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;some weeks ago, to explain my position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit inclined his head. Then he raised his long white finger to his
+      upper lip, stroking the blue skin pensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he raised his eyes to the Englishman's face, and in their
+      velvety depths Christian thought he detected an expression which was
+      almost pleading. It seemed to express a desire for help, for some slight
+      assistance in the performance of a difficult task. He never again looked
+      into those eyes in all his life, but the remembrance of them remained in
+      his heart for many years after the surrounding incidents had passed away
+      from memory and interest. He knew that the Soul looking forth from that
+      pale and heartless face was of no ordinary mould or strength. In later
+      years, when they were both grey-haired men whose Yea or No was of some
+      weight in the world&mdash;one speaking with the great and open voice of
+      the Press, the other working subtly, dumbly, secretly&mdash;their motives
+      may have clashed once more, their souls may have met and touched, as it
+      were, over the heads of the People, but they never looked into each
+      other's eyes again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Provincial moved uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a most unfortunate business,&rdquo; he said gently, and after a
+      pause continued more rapidly, with his eyes upon the book. &ldquo;I am
+      instructed to lay before you the apologies of the Society for the
+      inconvenience to which you have been put. Your own sense of justice will
+      tell you that we were bound to defend ourselves in every way. You have
+      done us a great injury, and, as is our custom, we have contradicted
+      nothing. The Society of Jesus does not defend itself in the vain hope of
+      receiving justice at the hands of men. I am now in a position to inform
+      you again that you are at liberty&mdash;free to go where you will, when
+      you will&mdash;and that any sum you may require is at your disposal to
+      convey you home to England ... on your signing a promise never to write
+      another word for private or public circulation on the subject of the Holy
+      Order of Jesus, or to dictate to the writing of another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must refuse,&rdquo; said Christian laconically, almost before the words had
+      left the Jesuit's lips. &ldquo;As I explained before, I am simply a public
+      servant; what I happen to know must ever be at the public disposal or I am
+      useless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A short silence followed this remark. When at length the Provincial spoke
+      his tone was cold and reserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I expected a refusal&mdash;at first. I am
+      instructed to ask you to reconsider your refusal and to oblige me, at the
+      end of a week, with the result of your meditations. If it remains a
+      refusal, another week will be accorded, and so on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit closed the book upon the table in front of him and with great
+      care altered its position so that it lay quite squarely. He raised his
+      eyebrows slightly and glanced sideways towards the Englishman. At that
+      moment the bell began summoning the devotees to their evening meal, its
+      deep tone vibrating weirdly through the bare corridors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until you accept,&rdquo; suggested he softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian looked at him speculatively. The faintest suspicion of a smile
+      hovered for a moment in his eyes, and then he turned and looked out of the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope, Monsieur,&rdquo; continued the Jesuit, &ldquo;that when I have the pleasure
+      of seeing you&mdash;a week hence&mdash;your health will be quite
+      re-established!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in the meantime I shall feel honoured by your asking for anything you
+      may require.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo; answered Christian again. He was still looking over his
+      shoulder, down at the brown river which ran immediately below the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please excuse my rising to open the door for you,&rdquo; said the Provincial,
+      with cool audacity, &ldquo;but I have a few words to write before joining our
+      brethren at their evening repast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian turned and looked at him vaguely. There was a peculiar gleam in
+      his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. Then he rose and, as he passed the
+      Jesuit, bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his grave salutation. He
+      walked quickly down the length of the room, which was not carpeted, and
+      opened the door, closing it again with some noise immediately. But he
+      never crossed the threshold. To the man sitting at the table it was as if
+      the Englishman had left the room, closing the door after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the Provincial glanced at the mirror, from mere habit, and found
+      that it was displaced. He re-arranged it thoughtfully, so that the entire
+      room was included in its field of reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said aloud, &ldquo;when and why he did that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he returned to his writing. In a few minutes, however, he rose and
+      pushed back his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back he stood and
+      gazed fixedly out of the window. Beneath him the brown water glided past
+      with curling eddy and gleaming ripple, while its soft murmur was the only
+      sound that broke the pathetic silence surrounding this lonely man. His
+      small and perfectly formed face was quite expressionless; the curve of his
+      thin lips meant nothing; all the suppressed vitality of his being lay in
+      those deep, soft eyes over which there seemed to be a veil. Presently he
+      turned, and with lithe, smooth steps passed down the long room and out of
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly Christian Vellacott came from his hiding-place within the
+      recess. He ran to the window and opened it noiselessly. A moment later he
+      was standing upon the stone sill. The afternoon sun shone full upon his
+      face as he stood there, and showed a deep red flush on either cheek.
+      Slowly he stooped forward, holding with one hand to the woodwork of the
+      window while he examined critically the surface of the water. Suddenly he
+      threw his arms forward and like a black shadow dived noiselessly, passing
+      into the depth without a splash. When he rose to the surface he turned to
+      look at the monastery. The Provincial's window was the only outlet
+      directly on to the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stream was rapid, and after swimming with it for a short time he left
+      the water and lay down to recover his breath under the friendly cover of
+      some bushes. There he remained for some time, while the short October
+      twilight closed over the land. A man just dragged from the jaws of death,
+      he lay in his wet clothes where he first found shelter without even
+      troubling to move his limbs from the pools of water slowly accumulating.
+      Already the monastery was a thing of the past. With the rapid forethought
+      of his generation he was already looking to the future. He knew too well
+      the spirit of the people in France to fear pursuit. The monks never
+      ventured beyond their own walls except on ostentatious missions of
+      charity. The machinations of the Society of Jesus were less to be feared
+      in France than in England, and he had only to take his story to the
+      nearest sub-prefecture to raise a storm of popular opinion in his favour.
+      But this was not his project. With him, as in all human plans, his own
+      personal feelings came before the possible duty he owed to the public. He
+      lay beneath the bramble undergrowth, and speculated as to what might have
+      taken place subsequent to his disappearance. At that moment the fortunes
+      of the <i>Beacon</i> gave him no food for thought. What Mr. Bodery and his
+      subordinate might, or might not, think found no interest in his mind. All
+      his speculations were confined to events at St. Mary Western, and the
+      outcome of his meditations was that when the friendly cover of darkness
+      lay on the land he rose and started to walk briskly across the well-tilled
+      country towards the north.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That portion of Brittany which lies along the northern coast is a pastoral
+      land where sleep occupies the larger half of man's life. Although it was
+      only evening, an hour when Paris and London recover, as it were, from the
+      previous night's vigil and brighten up into vigour, the solitary
+      Englishman passed unheeded through the squalid villages, unmolested along
+      the winding roads. Mile after mile of scanty forest land and rich meadow
+      were left behind, while, except for a few heavily-breathing cattle, he met
+      no sign of life. At last he came upon a broader road which bore
+      unmistakable signs of military workmanship in its construction, and here
+      he met, and passed with laconic greeting, a few peasant women returning
+      with empty baskets from some neighbouring market; or perhaps a
+      &ldquo;cantonnier&rdquo; here and there, plodding home with &ldquo;sabots&rdquo; swinging heavily
+      and round shoulders bent beneath the burden of his weighty stone-breaking
+      implements.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Following the direction of this road his course was now towards the
+      north-east, with more tendency to the eastward than he desired, but there
+      was no choice. About eight o'clock he passed through a small village,
+      which appeared to be already wrapped in stupid slumber such as attends the
+      peasant's pillow. A cock crowed loudly, and in reply a dog barked with
+      some alarm, but Christian was already beyond the village upon the deserted
+      high road again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He now began to feel the weakening effect of his illness; his legs became
+      cramped, and he frequently rested at the roadside. The highway was running
+      still more to the eastward now, and Christian was just beginning to
+      consider the advisability of taking to the country again, when it joined a
+      broader road cut east and west. Here he stopped short, and, raising his
+      head, stood quite still for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;The sea. I smell the sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He now turned to the left, and advanced along the newly-discovered road
+      towards the west. As he progressed the pungent odour of seaweed refreshed
+      him and grew stronger every moment. Suddenly he became aware that although
+      high land lay upon his left hand there was to his right a hollow darkness
+      without shadow or depth. No merry plash of waves came to explain this; the
+      smell of the sea was there, but the joyous tumble of its waters was not to
+      be heard. The traveller stooped low and peered into the darkness.
+      Gradually he discerned a distant line of horizon, and to that point there
+      seemed to stretch a vast dead sheet of water without light or motion. Upon
+      his ears there stole a soft bubbling sound, varied occasionally by a tiny
+      ripple. Suddenly a flash of recollection appeared to pass through the
+      watcher's mind, and he muttered an exclamation of surprise as he turned
+      towards the east and endeavoured to pierce the gloom. He was right. Upon
+      the distant line of horizon a jagged outline cut the sky. It was like the
+      form of a huge tooth jutting out from the softer earth. Such is Mont St.
+      Michel standing grandly alone in the midst of a shallow, sullen sea. The
+      only firm thing among the quaking sands, the only stone for miles around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Bay of Cancale!&rdquo; reflected Christian. &ldquo;If I keep to the westward I
+      shall reach St. Mâlo before ten o'clock!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he set off with renewed vigour. From his feet there stretched away to
+      the north a great dead level of quicksand, seething, bubbling, and heaving
+      in the darkness. The sea, and yet no sea. Neither honest land nor rolling
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI. SIGNOR BRUNO
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Silas Lebrun, captain and part-owner of the brig <i>Agnes and Mary</i> of
+      Jersey, was an early riser. Moreover, the old gentleman entertained
+      peculiar views as to the homage due to Morpheus. He made no elaborate
+      toilet before entering the presence of that most lovable god. Indeed he
+      always slept in his boots, and the cabin-boy had on several occasions
+      invited the forecastle hands to believe that he neither removed the
+      ancient sealskin cap from his head nor the wooden pipe from his lips when
+      slumber soothed his senses; but this statement was always set aside as
+      unauthenticated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In person the ancient sailor was almost square, with short legs and a body
+      worthy of promotion to something higher. His face was wrinkled and brown,
+      like the exterior of that incomprehensible fruit the medlar, which is
+      never ripe till it is bad, and then it is to be avoided. A yellow-grey
+      beard clustered closely round a short chin, and when perchance the
+      sealskin cap was absent yellow-grey hair of a similar hue completed the
+      circle, standing up as high from his brow as fell the beard downward from
+      his chin. A pair of intensely blue eyes, liquid always with the milk of
+      human kindness, rendered the hirsute medlar a pleasant thing to look at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The <i>Agnes and Mary</i> was ready for sea, her cargo of potatoes, with a
+      little light weight in the way of French beans and eggs, comfortably
+      stowed, and as Captain Lebrun emerged from what he was pleased to call his
+      &ldquo;state-room&rdquo; with the first breath of a clear morning he performed his
+      matinal toilet with a certain sense of satisfaction. This operation was
+      simple, consisting merely in the passage of four very brown fingers
+      through the yellow-grey hair, and a hurried dispersal of the tobacco ash
+      secreted in his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first object that met the mariner's astonished gaze was the long black
+      form of a man stretched comfortably upon the cabin locker. The green mud
+      adhering to the sleeper's thin shoes showed that he had climbed on board
+      at low tide when the harbour was dry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun gazed meditatively at the intruder for some moments. Then
+      he produced a powerfully-scented pipe of venerable appearance, which had
+      been, at various stages of its existence, bound in a seaman-like manner
+      with pieces of tarred yarn. He slowly filled this object, and proceeded to
+      inform it in a husky voice that he was &ldquo;blowed.&rdquo; The pipe was, apparently,
+      in a similar condition, as it refused absolutely to answer to the powerful
+      suction applied to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then seated himself with some difficulty upon the corner of the low
+      table, and examined the sleeper critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor devil,&rdquo; he again said, addressing himself to his pipe. &ldquo;He's one of
+      them priest fellows.&mdash;Hi, mister!&rdquo; he observed, raising his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott woke up at once, and took in the situation without
+      delay. He was not of those who must go through terrible contortions before
+      regaining their senses after sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Captain!&rdquo; he observed pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;yourn't a parlee voo, then!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm an Englishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed. Then you'll excuse me, but what in the name of glory are you
+      doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian sat up and looked at his muddy shoes with some interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the truth is that I am bolting. I want to get across to England. I
+      saw where you hailed from by your rig, and clambered on board last night.
+      It seemed to me that when an Englishman is in a hole he cannot do better
+      than go to a fellow-countryman for help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun made a mighty effort to force a passage through his pipe,
+      and was rewarded by a very high-pitched squeak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay!&rdquo; he said doubtfully. &ldquo;But what sort of hole is it? Nothing dirty, I'm
+      hopin'. Who are yer? Why are ye runnin' away, and who are ye runnin'
+      from?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Though a trifle blunt the sailor's manner was not unfriendly, and
+      Christian laughed before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to tell you the whole story would take a long time. You
+      remember perhaps there was a row, about two months ago, respecting some
+      English rifles found in Paris?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I remember that; we had a lot o' trouble with the Customs just
+      then. The thing was ferreted out by a young newspaper fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian rubbed his hands slowly together. He was terribly anxious to
+      hear the sequel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am that newspaper fellow,&rdquo; he said, with a quick smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun slowly stood up. He contemplated his pipe thoughtfully,
+      then laying it upon the table he turned solemnly towards Christian, and
+      held out a broad brown hand which was covered with scales in lieu of skin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shake hands, mister?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian obliged him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he said quickly, &ldquo;I want to know what has happened since&mdash;since
+      I left England. Has there been a great row? Has ... has anybody wondered
+      where I was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old sailor may have had his suspicions. He may have guessed that
+      Christian Vellacott had not left England at the dictates of his own free
+      will, for he looked at him very kindly with his liquid blue eyes, and
+      replied slowly:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't say that <i>nobody</i> hasn't been wonderin' where ye was, but&mdash;but
+      there's been nothing in the papers!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all right! And now will you give me a passage, Captain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Course I will! We sail about eleven this morning. I'm loaded and cleared
+      out. But I should like you to have a change o' clothes. Can't bear to see
+      ye in them black things. It makes me feel as if I was talkin' to a
+      priest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like nothing better,&rdquo; replied Christian, as he rose and
+      contemplated his own person reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come into my state-room then. I've got a few things of my own, and a bit
+      of a slop-chest: jerseys and things as I sell to the men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Captain's wardrobe was of a marine character and somewhat rough in
+      texture. He had, however, a coat and waistcoat of thick blue pilot-cloth
+      which fitted Christian remarkably well, but the continuations thereof were
+      so absurdly out of keeping with the young fellow's long limbs as to
+      precipitate the skipper on to the verge of apoplexy. When he recovered,
+      and his pipe was re-lighted, he left the cabin and went forward to borrow
+      a pair of the required articles from Tom Slake, an ordinary seaman of tall
+      and slim proportions. In a short time Christian Vellacott bore the outward
+      semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar, except that his
+      cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was promptly commented
+      upon by the blunt old sailor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Secrecy was absolutely necessary, so Tom, of the long legs, was the only
+      person to whom Christian's presence was made known; and he it was who (in
+      view of a possible berth as steward later on) was entrusted with the
+      simple culinary duties of the vessel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity. A long shiny
+      loaf of yesterday's bread, some butter in a saucer&mdash;which vessel was
+      deemed entirely superfluous in connection with cups&mdash;brown sugar in
+      an old mustard-tin, with portions of yellow paper adhering to it, and
+      solid slices of bacon brought from the galley in their native frying-pan.
+      Such slight drawbacks, however, as there might have been in the matter of
+      table-ware disappeared before the sense of kindly hospitality with which
+      Captain Lebrun poured the tea into a cracked cup and a borrowed pannikin,
+      dropping in the sugar with careful judgment from his brown fingers. Such
+      defects as there might have lurked in the culinary art as carried on in
+      the galley vanished before the friendly solicitude with which Tom tilted
+      the frying-pan to pour into Christian's plate a bright flow of bacon-fat
+      cunningly mingled with cinders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the meal had been duly despatched Captain Lebrun produced his pipe
+      and proceeded to fill it, after having extracted from its inward parts the
+      usual high-toned squeak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian leant back against the bulkhead with his hands buried deeply in
+      Tom's borrowed pockets. He felt much more at home in pilot cloth than in
+      cashmere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is one more thing I should like to borrow,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay?&rdquo; repeated the captain interrogatively, as he searched in his
+      waistcoat-pocket for a match.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A pipe. I have not had a smoke for two months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Captain struck a light upon his leg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got one somewhere,&rdquo; he replied reassuringly; &ldquo;carried it for many
+      years now, just in case this one fell overboard or got broke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tom, who happened to be present, smiled audibly behind a hand which was
+      hardly a recommendation for the coveted berth of steward, but Christian
+      looked at the battered pipe with sympathetic gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At ten o'clock the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> warped out of harbour and dropped
+      lazily down the Rance, setting sail as she went. Christian had spent most
+      of the morning in the little cabin smoking Captain Lebrun's reserve pipe,
+      and seeking to establish order among the accounts of the ship. The
+      accounts were the <i>bête noire</i> of the old sailor's existence. Upon
+      his own confession he &ldquo;wasn't no arithmetician,&rdquo; and Christian found, upon
+      inspecting his accounts, no cause to contradict this ambiguous statement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> was clear of the harbour he went on deck,
+      where activity and maritime language reigned supreme. The channel was
+      narrow and the wind light, consequently the little brig drifted more or
+      less at her own sweet will. This would have been well enough had the
+      waterway been clear of other vessels, but the Jersey steamer was coming
+      in, with her yellow funnel gleaming in the sunlight, her mail-flag
+      fluttering at her foremast, and her captain swearing on the bridge, with
+      the whistle-pull in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing that the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> had no steerage way, the captain
+      stopped his engines for a few minutes, and then went ahead again at
+      half-speed. This brought the vessels close together, and, as is the
+      invariable custom in such circumstances, the two crews stared stonily at
+      each other. On the deck were one or two passengers enjoying the morning
+      air after a cramped and uncomfortable night. Among these was an old man
+      with a singularly benign expression; he was standing near the after-wheel,
+      gazing with senile placidity towards St. Mâlo. As the vessels neared each
+      other, however, he walked towards the rail, and stood there with a
+      pleasant smile upon his face, as if ready to exchange a greeting with any
+      kindred soul upon the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old
+      man and watched him with some interest&mdash;not, however, altering his
+      position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in due
+      course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme stern
+      of his ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the young journalist removed Captain Lebrun's spare pipe from his
+      lips, and leaning sideways over the water, called out:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Signor Bruno!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman was
+      peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared at
+      the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden access
+      of fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from
+      beneath his smooth white brows. &ldquo;Ah! it is you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the
+      little strip of water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat.
+      He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught in the
+      lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his face. A dull
+      red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed ruddily, as if shot
+      with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with his breast against
+      the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the two ships passed
+      away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the clean deck,
+      grasping a pistol in his right hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and smiling
+      reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers crowd round
+      him, but the <i>Agnes and Mary</i> had now caught the breeze and was
+      moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the water in
+      little golden bars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apperlexy!&rdquo; said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found
+      Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer.
+      &ldquo;Apperlexy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; asked Christian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; was the reply, given with some conviction. &ldquo;I seen a man fall just
+      like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a moment of
+      excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once. Apperlexy they
+      said it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?&rdquo; said Christian
+      absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, it did,&rdquo; said the captain. &ldquo;Ye seemed to know him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian turned and looked his companion full in the face. &ldquo;I have met
+      him twice,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;He was in England for some years, I believe;
+      a political refugee, he called himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By sea and land Captain Lebrun had learnt to devote an exclusive attention
+      to his own affairs, allowing other men to manage theirs, well or ill,
+      according to their fancy. He knew that Christian Vellacott wished to tell
+      him no more, and he was content that it should be so, but he had noticed a
+      circumstance which, from the young journalist's position, was probably
+      invisible. He turned to give an order to the man at the wheel, and then
+      walked slowly and with some difficulty (for Captain Lebrun suffered, in a
+      quiet way, agonies from rheumatism) back towards his passenger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seemed to me,&rdquo; he said reflectively, as he looked upwards to see if the
+      foretopsail was shivering, &ldquo;as if he had something in his hand when a'
+      fell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian followed the Captain's gaze. The sails were now filling well,
+      and there was an exhilarating sound of straining cordage in the air while
+      the vessel glided on. The young journalist was not an impressionable man,
+      but he felt all these things. The sense of open freedom, the gentle rise
+      and fall of the vessel, the whirring breeze, and the distant line of high
+      land up the Rance towards Dinant&mdash;all these were surely worth
+      hearing, feeling, and seeing; assuredly, they added to the joy of living.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something in his hand,&rdquo; he repeated gravely; &ldquo;what was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lebrun turned sideways towards the steersman, and made a little
+      gesture with his left hand. A wrinkle had appeared in one corner of the
+      foretopsail. Then he looked round the horizon with a sailor's far-seeing
+      gaze, before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seemed to me,&rdquo; he mumbled, without taking his pipe from his lips, &ldquo;that
+      it was a revolver.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the two men smoked in silence for some time. The little vessel moved
+      steadily out towards the blue water, passing a lighthouse built upon a
+      solitary rock, and later a lightship, with its clean red hull gleaming in
+      the sunlight as it rose and fell lazily. So close were they to the latter
+      that the man watching on deck waved his hand in salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Vellacott had vouchsafed no reply to Captain Lebrun's strange
+      statement. He sat on the low rail, swinging one leg monotonously, while
+      the square little sailor stood at his side with that patient maritime
+      reflectiveness which is being slowly killed by the quicker ways of steam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My calling brings me into contact with a rum lot of people,&rdquo; said the
+      young fellow at last, &ldquo;and I suppose all of us make enemies without
+      knowing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this vague elucidation the little skipper was forced to content
+      himself. He gave a grunt of acquiescence, and walked forward to
+      superintend the catheading of the anchor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE RUE ST. GINGOLPHE AGAIN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      One would almost have said that the good citizen Jacquetot was restless
+      and disturbed. It was not that the little tobacco shop left aught to be
+      desired in the way of order, neither had the tobacconist quitted his seat
+      at the window-end of the counter. But he was not smoking, and at short
+      intervals he drew aside the little red curtain and looked out into the
+      quiet Rue St. Gingolphe with a certain eagerness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually
+      waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of
+      September in a year which it is not expedient to name, he seemed to be
+      looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by
+      surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast forehead
+      at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a snuff-taker
+      have recourse to that solace more frequently when he is agitated than when
+      a warm calm reigns within his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So quiet&mdash;so quiet,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;in our little street&mdash;and in
+      the others&mdash;who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters
+      lowered there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter of an
+      occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal of the <i>Petit Journal</i>.
+      Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply and drew aside
+      the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The footsteps were hurried
+      and yet hesitating&mdash;the gait of a person not knowing his whereabouts.
+      And yet the man who entered the shop a moment later was evidently the same
+      who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when last we met him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the tobacconist. &ldquo;It is you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the other. &ldquo;It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot&mdash;I
+      think you call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, yes!&rdquo; exclaimed the fat man in amazement. &ldquo;You are that citizen, and
+      you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer was looking round him curiously; he stepped towards the
+      curtained door, and turned the handle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is
+      this the room? Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and get a mattress. Bring it and lay it on this
+      table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jacquetot rose laboriously from his seat. He knew now that this was not
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke
+      with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be obeyed.
+      He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People. The Vicomte
+      d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different people&mdash;this
+      man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders without heeding the
+      reception of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small
+      door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving the
+      new-comer alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the Rue
+      St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man passed
+      through the little curtained doorway into the room at the back of the
+      shop, closing the door after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite
+      still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door
+      when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it behind
+      him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood
+      looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in height
+      and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird and
+      unpleasant in their action&mdash;in their silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the last comer. &ldquo;It is thou. I almost fired!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why have you done this?&rdquo; continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. &ldquo;I thought we
+      agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us both
+      without meeting, if we exercised a little care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is dead,&rdquo; replied the brother. &ldquo;She died two years ago&mdash;the wife
+      of Prangius&mdash;what does it matter now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that&mdash;but why did you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade,
+      and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast; the
+      light of the gas flickered, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my chest,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I am simply dripping with blood. It has
+      trickled down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first&mdash;and then very
+      cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety eyes there
+      passed that strange contraction which has been noted in the glance of the
+      Vicomte d'Audierne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sent for a mattress,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That bullet must come out. A
+      doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of your Jesuits?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;one of my Jesuits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced. He staggered a little, and
+      clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you not sit down?&rdquo; he suggested coldly. &ldquo;There are none of your&mdash;<i>People</i>&mdash;here
+      to be impressed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Vicomte smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said smoothly, &ldquo;we work on different lines, do we not? I wonder
+      which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two&mdash;the two
+      fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third&mdash;a
+      dolt. Thus are they made&mdash;these women!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said the Jesuit, &ldquo;you have not forgotten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids were heavy,
+      requiring an effort to lift them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not like to hear the rooks call&mdash;that is all,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed to
+      overcome Christian Vellacott's quiet defiance&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It makes one remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke&mdash;sharply and
+      suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, you fool!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You are fainting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the
+      tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure gleaming whitely
+      amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table. Then
+      the two men, the Provincial and the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe,
+      lifted the wounded aristocrat gently and placed him upon the improvised
+      bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no sound of agony,
+      but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's blouse in which he was
+      disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the doctor arrived. He was quite a
+      young man, with shifting grey eyes, and he saluted the Provincial with a
+      nervous obsequity which was unpleasant to look upon. The deftness with
+      which he completed the task of laying bare the wound was notable. His
+      fingers were too clever to be quite honest. When, however, he was face to
+      face with the little blue-rimmed orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's
+      muscular chest, the expression of his face&mdash;indeed his whole manner&mdash;changed.
+      His eyes lost their shiftiness&mdash;he seemed to forget the presence of
+      the great man standing at the other side of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte
+      d'Audierne opened his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the doctor, noting this at once. &ldquo;You got this on the
+      Boulevard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get here?&rdquo; He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cab.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who carried you into this room?&rdquo; asked the doctor, returning to his case
+      of instruments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one! I walked.&rdquo; The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently
+      aggravated his patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the
+      Vicomte.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In order to avoid attracting attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was
+      instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again
+      the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that
+      of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He
+      said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar restraint to his
+      preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the
+      persistent gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will Monsieur take chloroform,&rdquo; he asked, unfolding a clean
+      pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;I beg of you&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not necessary,&rdquo; persisted the Vicomte calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little
+      movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible
+      elevation of the eyebrows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered
+      bottle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the doctor muttered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you will!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress&mdash;the gas was turned
+      up as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a
+      moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning
+      towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quick as thought, he suddenly darted forward and pressed the clean
+      handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte d'Audierne
+      gave a little smothered exclamation of rage, and raised his arms; but the
+      Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the mattress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay
+      unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn back in anger, so that
+      the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is possible,&rdquo; said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, &ldquo;that
+      Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a cat over its prey, the young doctor leant across the mattress.
+      Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the
+      order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless
+      movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous&mdash;neat,
+      rapid, and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed
+      beneath the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on
+      his shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red
+      stripes there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the lapse of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he
+      held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the bullet, my father,&rdquo; he said, without ceasing his occupation,
+      and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will he live?&rdquo; asked the Jesuit casually, while he examined the bullet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he tries, my father,&rdquo; was the meaning reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young doctor was bandaging now, skilfully and rapidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This would be the death of a dog,&rdquo; said the Provincial, as if musing
+      aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had
+      withdrawn some time before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better than the life of a dog,&rdquo; replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly
+      mocking way, without opening his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the
+      entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they
+      would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are like
+      a strong spirit&mdash;light and yet potent&mdash;that floats upon the top
+      of all other liquids and will mingle with none.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without
+      quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly
+      observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never was
+      the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical, so sceptical, as in the presence of his
+      brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so Jesuitical,
+      as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far apart
+      now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte d'Audierne
+      had hurried away from the deserted shore of the Côte du Nord, leaving his
+      brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit in his neck. That slit had
+      healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in both their
+      hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he said
+      that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the world who
+      could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to test his
+      authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose of seeing
+      his brother&mdash;senior by an hour. There were many things of which he
+      wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a more recent
+      date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott&mdash;one of the few men
+      who had succeeded in outwitting him&mdash;of Signor Bruno, or Max Talma,
+      who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a sudden,
+      voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at the sight
+      of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is full
+      of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that wonderful <i>inner</i>
+      history of France which is the most romantic story of human kind. And so
+      Raoul d'Audierne&mdash;the man whose power in the world is like that of
+      the fires burning within the crust of the earth, unseen, immeasurable&mdash;and
+      so he took his hat, and left the little room behind the tobacconist's shop
+      in the Rue St. Gingolphe&mdash;beaten, frustrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MAKING OF CHRISTIAN VELLACOTT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money,&rdquo; Captain Lebrun was saying emphatically, as the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>
+      drifted slowly past Gravesend pier on the rising tide. &ldquo;Hang money! Now, I
+      should think that you make as much of it in a month as I do in a year.
+      You're a young man, and as far as I know ye, ye're a successful one. Life
+      spreads out before you like a clean chart. I'm an old 'un&mdash;my time is
+      nearly up. I've lived what landsmen call a hard life, and now I'm slowly
+      goin' home. Ay, Mr. Vellacott, goin' home! And you think that with all
+      your manifold advantages you're a happier man than me. Not a bit of it!
+      And why? 'Cause you belong to a generation that looks so far ahead that
+      it's afraid of bein' happy, just for fear there's sorrow a comin'. Money,
+      and lookin' ahead, that's what spoils yer lives nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The skipper emphasised these weighty observations by expectorating
+      decisively into the water, and walked away, leaving Christian Vellacott
+      with a vaguely amused smile upon his face. It is just possible that Silas
+      Lebrun, master and owner of the <i>Agnes and Mary</i>, was nearer the mark
+      than he thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later, Vellacott was walking along the deserted embankment above
+      Westminster, on the Chelsea side of the river. It was nine o'clock, for
+      which fact Big Ben solemnly gave his word, far up in the fog. The morning
+      was very dark, and the street lamps were still alight, while every window
+      sent forth a gleam suggestive of early autumnal fires.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning up his own street he increased his pace, realising suddenly that
+      he had not been within his own doors for more than four months. Much might
+      have happened in that time&mdash;to change his life, perhaps. As he
+      approached the house he saw a strange servant, an elderly woman, on her
+      knees at the steps, and somehow the sight conveyed to his mind the thought
+      that there was something waiting for him within that peaceful little
+      house. He almost ran those last few yards, and sprang up the steps past
+      the astonished woman without a word of explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gas in the narrow entrance-hall was lighted, and as he threw aside his
+      cap he perceived a warm gleam of firelight through the half-open door of
+      the dining-room. He crossed the carpeted hall, and pushed open that door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near the little breakfast-table, just under the gas, stood Hilda Carew. In
+      <i>his</i> room, standing among <i>his</i> multifarious possessions, in
+      the act of pouring from <i>his</i> coffee-pot. She was dressed in black&mdash;he
+      noticed that. Instead of being arranged high upon her head, her marvellous
+      hair hung in one massive plait down her back. She looked like a tall and
+      beautiful school-girl. He had not seen her hair like that since the old
+      days when he had been as one of the Carews.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he pushed open the door, she looked up; and for a moment they stood
+      thus. She set down the coffee-pot, carefully and symmetrically, in the
+      centre of the china stand provided for its reception&mdash;and the colour
+      slowly left her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have come back at last!&rdquo; she said quite monotonously. It sounded like
+      a remark made for the purpose of filling up an awkward silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he entered the room, and mechanically closed the door behind him. She
+      noticed the action, but did not move. He passed round the table, behind
+      Aunt Judy's chair, and they shook hands conventionally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said almost breathlessly; &ldquo;I am back; you do not seem elated by
+      the fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly she smiled&mdash;the smile that suggested, in some subtle way, a
+      kitten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course&mdash;I am glad ... to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a peculiar dreamy way she began to add milk to the coffee. It seemed as
+      if this were mere play-acting, and not real life at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is it that you are here?&rdquo; he asked, with a broken, disjointed laugh.
+      &ldquo;You cannot imagine how strange an effect it was ... for me ... to come in
+      and see you ... here&mdash;of all people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him gravely, and moved a step towards him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Judy is dead!&rdquo; she explained; &ldquo;and Aunt Hester is very ill. Mother
+      is upstairs with them&mdash;<i>her</i>&mdash;now. I have just come from
+      the room, where I have been since midnight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped, raised her hand to her hair as if recollecting something, and
+      stood looking sideways out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is something about you this morning,&rdquo; he said, with a concentrated
+      deliberation, &ldquo;that brings back the old Prague days. I suppose it is that
+      I have not seen your hair as you have it to-day&mdash;since then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned quite away from his hungry gaze, looking out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause she broke the silence&mdash;with infinite tact&mdash;not
+      speaking too hurriedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a terrible week,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Mother heard from Mr. Bodery
+      that they were very ill; so we came. I never dreamt that it was so bad
+      when you spoke of them. Five years it has been going on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; five years. Thank you for coming, but I am sorry you should have
+      seen it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one should keep guard over his own skeleton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was looking at him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look very ill,&rdquo; she said curtly. &ldquo;Where have you been?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was kidnapped,&rdquo; he said, with a short laugh, &ldquo;and then I got typhoid.
+      The monks nursed me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were in a monastery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; in Brittany.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was idly arranging the cups and saucers with her left hand, which she
+      seemed desirous of bringing under his notice; but he could look at nothing
+      but her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it would have been impossible to find you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; he replied, and after a pause he added, in a singularly easy
+      manner, &ldquo;Tell me what happened after I disappeared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not seem to like the task.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;we searched&mdash;oh! Christian, it was horrid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wondered,&rdquo; he said, in a deep, soft voice, &ldquo;whether you would find it
+      so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course, we <i>all</i> did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This did not appear to satisfy him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you,&rdquo; he persisted, &ldquo;you, yourself&mdash;what did you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; she answered, with painful hesitation. &ldquo;I don't think I
+      thought at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what did you do, Hilda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;oh, we searched. We telegraphed for Mr. Bodery, who came down at
+      once. Then Fred rode over, and placed himself at Mr. Bodery's disposal.
+      First he went to Paris, then to Brest. He did everything that could be
+      done, but of course it was of no avail. By Mr. Bodery's advice everything
+      was kept secret. There was nothing in the newspapers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped suddenly, and there was a silence in the room. He was looking
+      at her curiously, still ignoring that little left hand. Only one word of
+      her speech seemed to have attached itself to his understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fred?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Fred Farrar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;my husband!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away&mdash;walked towards the door, and then returned to the
+      hearthrug, where he stood quite still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it was a quiet wedding,&rdquo; he said in a hard voice, &ldquo;on my
+      account; eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she whispered. He waited, but she added nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then suddenly he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made a most extraordinary mistake!&rdquo; he said, and again laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He came nearer to her&mdash;quite near, until his sleeve almost touched
+      her bowed head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought&mdash;at St. Mary Western&mdash;that you loved <i>me</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed to shrink away from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made me think so, Hilda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head, and her eyes flashed one momentary appeal for mercy&mdash;like
+      the eyes of a whipped dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he said sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;because <i>I</i> thought so myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he was so kind, so <i>brave</i>, Christian&mdash;because he knew of
+      my mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, after a pause, &ldquo;so long as you do not suffer by it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;h,&rdquo; she gasped, as if he were whipping her. She did not quite
+      know what he meant. She does not know now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he spoke again, slowly, deliberately, and without emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when you are older, when you have more experience of
+      the world, you will probably fall into the habit of thanking God, in your
+      prayers, that I am what I am. It is not because I am good ... perhaps it
+      is because I am ambitious&mdash;my father, you may remember, was
+      considered heartless; it may be <i>that</i>. But if I were different&mdash;if
+      I were passionate instead of being what the world calls cold and
+      calculating&mdash;you would be ... your life would be&mdash;&rdquo; he stopped,
+      and turning away he sat down wearily in Aunt Judy's armchair. &ldquo;You will
+      know some day!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is probable that she does know now. She knows, in all likelihood, that
+      her husband would have been powerless to save her from Christian Vellacott&mdash;from
+      herself&mdash;from that Love wherein there are no roses but only thorns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in the room above them Aunt Hester was dying. So wags the world. There
+      is no attention paid to the laws of dramatic effect upon the stage of
+      life. The scenes are produced without sequence, without apparent rhyme or
+      reason; and Chance, the scene-shifter, is very careless, for comedies are
+      enacted amid scenic effects calculated to show off to perfection the
+      deepest tragedy, while tragedies are spoilt by their surroundings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor and Mrs. Carew stood at the bedside, and listened to the old
+      woman's broken murmurings. Into her mind there had perhaps strayed a gleam
+      of that Light which is not on the earth, for she was not abusing her
+      great-nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Christian,&rdquo; she was murmuring, &ldquo;I wish you would come. I want to
+      thank you for your kindness, more especially to Aunt Judy. She is old, and
+      we must make allowances. I know she is aggravating. It happened long ago,
+      when your father was a little boy&mdash;but it altered her whole life. I
+      think women are like that. There is something that only comes to them
+      once. I am feeling far from well, nephew Vellacott. I think I should like
+      to see a doctor. What does Aunt Judy think? Is she asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her head to where she expected to find her sister, and in the
+      act of turning her eyes closed. She slumbered peacefully. The two sisters
+      had slept together for seventy years&mdash;seventy long, monotonous years,
+      in which there had been no incident, no great joy, no deep sorrow&mdash;years
+      lost. Except for the natural growth and slow decay of their frames, they
+      had remained stationary, while around them children had grown into men and
+      women and had passed away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Aunt Hester opened her eyes, and they rested on the vacant
+      pillow at her side. After a pause she slowly turned her head, and fixed
+      her gaze upon the doctor's face. He thought that the power of speech had
+      left her, but suddenly she spoke, quite clearly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is my sister Judith?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are times when the truth must be spoken, though it kill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sister died yesterday,&rdquo; replied the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. Her shrivelled
+      fingers were picking at the counter-pane. Then a gleam of intelligence
+      passed across her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I shall have a bed to myself. I have waited long
+      enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester was very human, although the shadow of an angel's wing lay
+      across her bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was many years later that Christian Vellacott found himself in the
+      presence of the Angel of Death again. A telegram from Havre was one day
+      handed to him in the room at the back of the tall house in the Strand, and
+      the result was that he crossed from Southampton to Havre that same night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the sun rose over the sea the next morning, its earliest rays glanced
+      gaily through the open port-hole of a cabin in a large ocean steamer,
+      still panting from her struggle through tepid Eastern seas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this little cabin lay the Jesuit missionary, René Drucquer, watching
+      the moving reflections of the water, which played ceaselessly on the
+      painted ceiling overhead. He had been sent home from India by a
+      kind-hearted army surgeon; a doomed man, stricken by a climatic disease in
+      which there was neither hope nor hurry. When the steamer arrived in the
+      Seine it was found expedient to let the young missionary die where he lay.
+      The local agent of the Society of Jesus was a kind-hearted man, and
+      therefore a faithless servant. He acceded to René Drucquer's prayer to
+      telegraph for Christian Vellacott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered
+      the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you have come,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of
+      pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder? And hard&mdash;yes, hard
+      as steel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; replied Vellacott. &ldquo;It may be that the hardness that was once
+      there shows now upon my face&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman looked lovingly at him, with eyes like the eyes of a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now you are a great man, they tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my way,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;And you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I have taught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! and has it been a success?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In teaching I have learnt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott merely nodded his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know why I sent for you?&rdquo; continued the missionary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent for you in order to tell you that I burnt that letter at
+      Audierne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to that conclusion, for it never arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought of it again,&rdquo; he replied heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest was looking keenly at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not say 'thou,' but '<i>you</i>,'&rdquo; he persisted gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vellacott's glance wavered; he raised his head, and looked out of the open
+      port-hole across the glassy waters of the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said René Drucquer, &ldquo;there might be some one else&mdash;some
+      woman&mdash;who was waiting for news.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a little pause the journalist replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Abbé,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is no woman in the whole world who wants
+      news of me. And the result is, as you kindly say, I am a great man now&mdash;in
+      my way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he knew that he might have been a greater.
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
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