The Secret of the Silver Car

by Wyndham Martyn

  CHAPTER SIX

  _FRESH FIELDS_

  If Anthony Trent thought he was to be the guest at a small luncheonparty where he could meet Arthur under friendlier circumstances and talkto Daphne intimately, he was mistaken.

  Castoon was staying at the castle and a number of people motored overfrom Falmouth as well as the owner of a big yacht lying for the time inthe Fowey river.

  Lord Rosecarrel was very amiable. He seemed intensely grateful thatTrent gave up a morning's shooting to attend a luncheon. There was notrace of suspicion about him. He had been told that Mr. Trent, anAmerican of means, had been a guest at Dereham Old Hall. His daughterhad not informed him of Alicia Langley's letter.

  But he was most interested to know that his son had saved the visitor'slife. It was the one good act in the black years which had given him somuch sorrow.

  Also Daphne had told him that Arthur liked Trent and would be a goodcompanion. The physicians who were watching Arthur's case recommendedthat he should be kept interested. They desired that the apathy whichthreatened to take hold on him should be banished. The Earl was growingmore and more to leave things to the girl. The death of his two sons hadbeen a terrible blow and he was beginning to find in solitary yachtingand fishing trips a certain refreshing solace.

  From the deference that most of the people paid to Rudolph Castoon itwas evident that he was a man of great influence and promise.

  Trent sat next to a rather pretty dark girl, a Miss Barham, who had comeover from her father's yacht.

  "Everybody seems to hang on his words," he said. "Why?"

  "He's phenomenally rich," she answered, "and he has a career. He'llprobably be Chancellor of the Exchequer in the next cabinet. Finance isbred in the bone of his sort. Hasn't he a brother in your country?"

  "A great power in Wall Street," Trent told her, "but we suspect acapitalist; and while Rudolph may get a title and much honor, Alfred inAmerica couldn't get a job as dog catcher."

  "Of course you've seen he's simply mad about Daphne?" Miss Barham saidlater.

  "I've seen his side of it," Trent said frowning a little, "but whatabout Lady Daphne?"

  "Power is always attractive," Miss Barham said wisely, "and we Englishwomen love politics. One can never tell. I think the earl would befurious but Daphne always gets her way and after all Mr. Castoon is agreat catch whichever way you look at it. There's nothing financiallyshady about him and if Daphne should ever get bitten with the idea ofmaking a _salon_, he's the man to marry."

  "What a brutal way to look at it," he said gloomily.

  "Are you young enough to believe in those delightful love matches, Mr.Trent?" the girl asked. "I did till I was almost fifteen."

  Anthony Trent should have been amused to find himself on the side of theangels. As a rule life had provoked cynicism in him and here he wasfighting for ideals.

  "I talked like that until I was fifteen," he smiled, "and I meant it."

  Ada Barham turned her dark brilliant eyes on him. She rather envied thegirl who had captured him. She felt it was a lover talking.

  "Of course you are in love," she retorted. "I always meet the reallynice men too late. Dare you confess it?"

  "I admit it," he said a little confused.

  "American girls are very charming," Miss Barham declared. "I stayed atNewport a month last year. Of course you know Newport?"

  "Fairly well," he admitted.

  Oddly enough the recollection of his Newport triumphs was not aspleasing as usual. He had made some of his richest hauls in the RhodeIsland city.

  What an amazing thing, he reflected, that he was here as a guests amongpeople on whom, as a class, he had looked as his lawful prey. Castoonwith his millions was the sort of man he would like to measure his witagainst. When Castoon looked across the table at him with a kind ofinnocent stare he decided that it would be a delightful duel.

  He knew English women wore little jewelry during the day so he could notestimate the value of what they owned at a luncheon, but he was certainMiss Barham's mother, who was addressed as Lady Harriet, had familyjewels worth the risk of seeking to get. A woman whose husband owned atwo-hundred feet steam yacht was distinctly among those whom in formerdays he had been professionally eager to meet.

  Before the luncheon Lady Daphne had explained that her brother would notbe at the table. The family was anxious that he should not be subjectedto the confusion of professing ignorance of some man or event which heought to know. By degrees he was getting his bearings and readingthrough files of old newspapers the main events of the years that hadbeen wiped from his mind.

  Anthony Trent was taken to the big room by a footman, the same room hehad entered unannounced.

  "You must have thought me awfully rude," Arthur Grenvil said cordially,"but my sister had told you the reason. She says I used to know you."Grenvil looked at him wistfully, "I think she said I had saved yourlife."

  "You did," Trent answered promptly. And then, because he was sorry forthe ex-"Tommy" but more because he loved the other's sister, he plungedinto a stirring account of the incident omitting the part of theexchange of confidences.

  "Apparently," said Grenvil, "it was the only decent thing I did duringthose dreadful forgotten years. If you knew the agony of not knowingwhat I did and dreading every day to learn something more of my careeryou'd pity me. I couldn't meet Castoon. They say I was a sort ofsecretary to him for six months and he had to send me away. All Iremember of him is that he was my father's private secretary when I wasa small boy of ten and my father ambassador at Constantinople. I'mafraid to see any of the people who come here."

  "That will pass," Trent said reassuringly, "you'll get a grip onyourself as your health improves."

  "That's what Daphne says," Arthur answered, "Isn't she splendid?"

  "Indeed she is," Trent said not daring to put the fervor in his voicethat he felt. There was almost an uncanny feeling in talking with thisnew Arthur Grenvil. As a judge of men, and as a man who had met a greatnumber of criminals and could estimate them accurately, Trent had knowneven in the darkness of the dug-out that Private William Smith was bad.

  Despite the absence of coarseness from the speech of the unseen manTrent had felt that he was evil and dangerous, a man to watch carefully.And this same man stripped of his mantle of black deeds was now sittingtalking to him with the deferential air of the junior listening withrespect to his superior in years and his superior in knowledge.

  What a _role_ for Anthony Trent, master criminal! But he played it aswell as any of the parts he had set himself to enact. He became theelder brother, the sage counsellor, the arbiter, the physical trainerand the constant companion. In the beginning he cheerfully set out toplay the part in order to win Daphne's approval. Later he really likedArthur. He taught him to drive the high powered Lion car that was seldomused by the earl's chauffeurs and discovered in him an aptitude formechanics which delighted his father.

  "You have done more for my son than I imagined could be done by anyone,"Lord Rosecarrel said gratefully.

  "I owe him no small debt," Anthony Trent retorted, "and it's a verypleasant way of trying to pay it."

  It was not often that he saw the earl. Occasionally they played a gameof billiards after dinner but the elder man was constantly occupied withreading when he was not aboard his boat. Since he had come to Cornwall,Trent had discovered what an important personage Lord Rosecarrel hadbeen in the political life of his country until his sudden resignation ayear before the war. Every now and then Trent would see regret expressedin a London paper or weekly review that he would not place his vastknowledge of the near East at his country's disposal.

  There was still considerable trouble centering about the Balkans; andsince the earl had been minister or ambassador at Belgrade, Bucharestand Constantinople he knew the country as few could hope to do withouthis experience.

  The prime minister himself, snatching a few days of golf at Newquay,motored over to the castle to lunch and asked his host personally tocome from his ret
irement. It happened that Trent was lunching at thecastle and heard the earl's decision not to leave private life. Therewas an incident in connection with this which made a curious impressionon the American.

  When he had declined to represent his country finally, Lord Rosecarrellooked over the table at his son who was talking gaily and did notobserve the glance. It was a look almost of hate that the earl flashedat him. Then it passed and was succeeded by the melancholy which the oldaristocrat's face habitually wore. Trent was certain none had seen buthe and he had never seen an evidence of it before.

  He reflected that Arthur was never wholly at ease in his father'scompany. Again and again he had caught a certain shamed look when theearl was speaking. Of course it was the knowledge of how in theforgotten years he had disgraced an honored name. That wasunderstandable. But why should the father who knew all and had forgivensuddenly throw this look of hate over the table at the unconscious son?

  "Arthur," said Trent one day to Lady Daphne, "looks as if he were stillbegging forgiveness. Why?"

  "It must be fancy on your part," she said and changed the subjectinstantly.

  He supposed it was some other skeleton, from that full closet, whoserattling bones had not been buried yet. There was something which stillrankled in the earl's memory. He knew he would never find its originfrom Daphne.

  His intimacy with the Grenvils began to alarm him. It was a fellowshipwhich must sooner or later come to an end. He was utterly without vanitywhen it came to his relationship with Lady Daphne; but his love for hergave him such an insight and sympathy with her that he could not but beconscious that of late a softer mood had come to her when they werealone together.

  He knew that she looked for his presence where before she had beenindifferent. Sometimes when they touched hands at parting there was thefaint, lingering hold which said more than looks or spoken words. Itdistressed him to hear that she had defended him valiantly when the wifeof a nearby landowner had referred to him as an American adventurer andfortune hunter. Daphne had sprung to his rescue in a flash. Half thecountry gossiped about it. It was very loyal of her, he felt, but alsovery unwise.

  The earl had heard of it and was displeased. But he trusted his daughterand Trent was working amazing changes with Arthur. It was only when theprime minister spoke of the American that Lord Rosecarrel knew he mustnot ignore the thing any longer.

  "And who is the good looking lad upon whose words your daughter hangs?"

  "A delightful fellow," the earl said, "I don't know what Arthur wouldhave done without him. He is reconstructing the poor boy."

  And indeed the earl was fond of the stranger. But his daughter mustmarry into her own station in life. His other girl's home was in Franceand he wanted Daphne to remain in England. It occurred to him as verystrange that he had made so few inquiries into Trent's antecedents. Hesupposed it was the man's personal charm and the fact that he washimself not in good health that had allowed him to be careless. One dayat a dinner that came in the week after the prime minister's visit, adinner to which Trent alone was bidden, he said:

  "We shall miss you very much when you have to go, Mr. Trent, but Isuppose your affairs in America call you imperatively."

  Anthony Trent made no answer for the moment. It was as though sentenceof death had been passed upon him. He could only admit that this was thelogical if long-delayed end to the pleasantest days of his life. He hadbrought it on himself by his own weakness. For all his strength he wasin some ways deplorably weak. He had been weak to leave the ways ofhonest men. Primarily he had none of those grudges against organizedsociety which drive some men to crime. He had fallen because he wastired of narrow ways of life and a toil which offered few high rewards.

  And, more than all, he had been weak in that he had encouraged anintimacy with a family of this type. The Lady Daphne was not for him. Hecalled to mind a phrase that Miss Barham had said about Castoon at thisvery table. She had said there was nothing financially shady about himwhich might prevent marriage between him and Daphne. No matter how muchAnthony Trent sought to deceive himself about his way of crime andcomfort himself with the reflection he never despoiled the poor orworthy but inevitably set himself against the rich and undeserving, heknew he stood condemned in the eyes of decent men and women. He wasaware that Daphne and Arthur were listening for his answer. Daphne'sface was white.

  "I shall miss you all, sir," he said, "more than I can say."

  "You are not really going?" Arthur cried.

  "I must," he said. "My affairs at home need looking after and I havelingered on here forgetting everything."

  Lady Daphne said nothing. He did not dare to look at her. He knew shewas thinking that but for her father's mention of his leaving she mightnot have known until he chose to tell; and he had told another first.

  Because he was grateful that Trent had been quick to take the hint theEarl of Rosecarrel was particularly gracious to his guest and proposeda game of billiards.

  It was while the old nobleman was making a break that Daphne droppedinto a chair at Trent's side.

  "Are you really going?" she asked.

  "I ought never to have stayed so long," he answered.

  "Do you want to go?"

  "You know I don't," he said passionately.

  "And is your business so important?"

  "Wait," he said rising to his feet when his opponent had finished abreak of fifty-three. "It's my turn."

  "I have never," said the earl, chalking his cue, "seen you miss thatparticular shot before."

  Anthony Trent came to the girl's side.

  "We can't talk here," he whispered. "The hounds meet at Michaelstowetomorrow and draw the Trenewth covers. Will you be out?"

  "Yes," she said, "but what chance shall we have to talk there?"

  "We can lose the field," he said, "and ride back over the moors alone."

  * * * * *

  Arthur Grenvil had taken the mastership of the North Cornwall Foxhoundsand persuaded Trent to follow them. The American had added a couple ofbetter-bred faster horses to his hack and now enjoyed the gallop after afox as much as any hardened foxhunter of them all.

  A fox was discovered almost immediately when the Trenewth covers weredrawn and got well away making in a westerly direction for theWadebridge road. Daphne and Trent made a pretense of following but soondrew apart from the rest. The music of hounds became fainter and theyturned back to the moors.

  "You might have told me," she said reproachfully.

  "I didn't know," he answered, "I only realized when your father spokethat it was more or less a command."

  "My father may be the lord-lieutenant of the county," she said, "but hehas no power to send a man away if the man doesn't want to go."

  "Can you think I want to go?" he demanded.

  "I only know you are not going to stay."

  She touched her horse lightly on the shoulder and put him to a canter.Trent saw that she was heading for Rough Tor, one of the two mountainsguarding the moorlands. Once or twice they had ridden to its rocky topand looked at the hamlets through whose chimneys the peat smoke rose,and those strange hut circles of a prehistoric people. The path alongwhich she went was too narrow to permit him to ride by her side and hewas forced to ride in silence for almost an hour.

  When she dismounted at Rough Tor and he tethered the horses to a shortwind shorn tree he could see she was not the same cheerful girl ofyesterday.

  "Why did you stay here so long?" she asked presently.

  "Because I love you," he answered.

  "Why do you go away?"

  "Because I love you better than I knew."

  She looked at him with a faint smile.

  "That is very hard to understand, Tony."

  It was the first time she had ever called him by the name her brotherused. He took one of her gauntleted hands and kissed it.

  "My dear," he said tenderly, "it is crucifixion for me."

  She looked at him still with the little wistful smile
on her face.

  "And are you the only one to suffer?"

  The knowledge that she cared as much as he did brought a look of miseryto his face where only triumph should have reigned.

  "Ada Barham told me about the girl in America," she continued. "Ofcourse I imagined there would be a girl somewhere whom you cared for butI think you might have confided in me. Weren't we good friends enoughfor that?"

  "There is no girl anywhere," he said. "I told Miss Barham that because Ididn't want her to suspect it was you."

  "Then why must you go away?" There was almost a wail in her voice.

  "I have told you," he answered, trying desperately to keep his voiceeven, "I must go because I love you better than anything else in life."

  She laughed a little bitterly.

  "And so that is how men behave when they are in love!"

  "When a man really loves a girl he should think first of her happiness."

  She looked at him simply. There was none of the false shame that lessernatures might feel in avowing love.

  "Don't you understand," she said in a low voice, "that you are myhappiness?"

  For a moment the devil tempted him even as the Son of Man had beentempted upon a mountain top. Why should he think of the future whentoday was so sweet? In the big Lion car in the castle garage he couldmake Southampton in time enough for the White Star liner which went outtomorrow. They could be married on board or at any rate directly theyreached America. Then with the money he had saved they could be happy.She was the woman he wanted, the woman he worshipped.

  Then the other side of the picture presented itself. He saw them marriedon board and radiantly happy as they approached the land that was to beher home. Then the hard-faced men who showed official badges andinformed him he was wanted for a series of crimes which would keep himaway from wife and home and liberty until she was an old woman. Oneending to the trip was just as likely as the other. Situated as he washe could never be certain of safety. This period in quiet Cornwall wasthe first time since he had taken to crime that he had become almostcareless. He would break Daphne's heart for she was of the kind whowould never love another man. And the disgrace he would bring upon thiskindly family of hers which had suffered enough already. The screechingheadlines in the press of the earl's daughter who married a crook. Itwas not to be thought of.

  "Dear," he said softly, "if there were any obstacles which could beremoved by human effort I should not say goodbye like this. Please don'task me to tell you anything more."

  "You said at Dereham that you felt you could sell your soul for a past.Is that it?"

  "That is the irrevocable thing," he told her.

  "Pasts can be lived down," she whispered.

  "Not mine," he said dismally. "Daphne I have not been here all this timewithout knowing you and the sort of people from whom you spring. It isbecause of your tradition of honor that you felt Arthur's misfortunes somuch. I can bring upon you and yours a greater disgrace than he could."

  "I won't believe it," she cried.

  "I don't want you to," he said gratefully. "I remember the thing saidabout your family, 'the Grenvils for Loyalty' and I love you for it, butLady Polruan was right when she called me an unknown adventurer fromAmerica. The other countrymen of mine you meet here, like ConingtonWarren for instance, have their place at home. I haven't. I am withoutthe pale. They don't know me and I can't know them. There is that greatgulf fixed which you can never understand. I want to go away leaving youstill my friend. If you ask me questions about myself and I answer themtruly I may have to carry away with me the picture of your scorn. Bekind, Daphne and don't ask any more."

  "I should never scorn you," she cried.

  He put his arms about her and kissed her.

  "My dear," he whispered, "my sweet, believe always that there issomething God himself could not alter or I would never give you up likethis."

  "It is very hard," she said presently, "to have found love and then toknow it must only be a little dream that passes."

  "It is my just punishment," he answered.

  "When do you go?"

  "Tomorrow."

  She put her arms about his neck and looked him full in the eyes.

  "Darling," she said, "I shall never love anybody but you. Girls alwayssay that, I know, but I have always been a little afraid of love and itsexactions and the sorrow it brings. You see I was right in being afraidfor directly I find you I must lose you." She leaned forward, one elbowon her knee, and looked at the countryside spread out at her feet. "Ishall probably live here to be an old woman and look after other oldwomen and see they have tea and warm wraps for the bad weather, and givethe old men tobacco. That's all I look forward to. Tony, Tony, why is itone can't die on the day when one is killed?"

  He sat in silence. Bitterly as he regretted his past which had risen toprevent happiness, he regretted his staying here in Cornwall even more.If he alone had suffered it were well enough, part indeed of thepunishment he merited. But to have dragged this girl into it and to havemade her love a man who could never marry her was the blackest of all.Perhaps she suspected it for she turned to him and put her hand on his.

  "Poor Tony," she said caressingly, "it's no good blaming yourself. Ithad to be. I think I've always loved you. Before it is too late and youare gone away, are you sure this thing that stands between us cannot bebanished or atoned or paid for in money? You know I have a large fortuneof my own and it is all yours if you need it. Don't let any little thingstand between us. Where one loves wholly one can forgive all. I shallnot ask you again; but, my dear, if any human agency can give you to melet me know."

  Anthony Trent thought of the view he once had of a great penitentiary inwhich a man he used to know was serving a life sentence. The prison wasset among arid country in sandy plains. Along the top of the stone wallssentries were placed at intervals, men with sawed-off shot guns waitingthe opportunity to kill such as sought to escape the dreary days anddreadful nights. His friend made the desperate attempt and died aswarders crowded about him and congratulated the guard on hismarkmanship. It was this place which might at any moment receive theperson of Anthony Trent.

  He could not think of the law as a human agency. That was one of thedifferences between the Anthony Trent, writer and Anthony Trent, crook.The writer regarded the law and its officers with a certain meed ofrespect but the criminal hated them.

  "There is nothing that can help me," he said.

  There was silence for a little; then she rose to her feet and pointedout scarlet coated men in the distance and galloping horses. Arthur'shounds had lost their fox in Tregenna woods and had found another stoutdog fox headed for his earth on the moors.

  "We can follow after all," she said, with an attempt to be cheerful.

  They kissed silently and then remounted the impatient hunters. Bydevious ways they joined the field again. The moorland was a dangerouscountry to ride. Great stone walls divided small fields and there weresunken roads and paths by which, thousands of years before, thePhoenicians had taken their way.

  It was observed with what recklessness the American rode.

  "He'll break his neck if he isn't careful," said a rosy faced old"hunting parson," as Trent set his horse at a great granite barrier.

  He was not to know that Anthony Trent would have welcomed just such anend.