"So can I."
Pagett came nearer and breathed heavily as
he always does before imparting a secret.
"You see. Sir Eustace, I fancied--and now
indeed I am sure--it was Rayburn."
"Rayburn?"
"Yes, Sir Eustace."
I shook my head.
"Rayburn has far too much sense to
attempt to wake me up in the middle of the
night."
"Quite so. Sir Eustace. I think it was
Colonel Race he went to see. A secret
meeting--for orders!"
"Don't hiss at me, Pagett," I said, drawing
back a little, "and do control your breathing.
178
Your idea is absurd. Why should they want to
have a secret meeting in the middle of the
night? If they'd anything to say to each other,
they could hob-nob over beef-tea in a
perfectly casual and natural manner."
I could see that Pagett was not in the least
convinced.
"Something was going on last night. Sir
Eustace," he urged, "or why should Rayburn
assault me so brutally?"
"You're quite sure it was Rayburn?"
Pagett appeared to be perfectly convinced
of that. It was the only part of the story that
he wasn't vague about.
"There's something very queer about all
this," he said. "To begin with, where is
Rayburn?"
It's perfectly true that we haven't seen the
fellow since we came on shore. He did not
come up to the hotel with us. I decline to
believe that he is afraid of Pagett, however.
Although the whole thing is very annoying.
One of my secretaries has vanished into the
blue, and the other looks like a disreputable
prize-fighter. I can't take him about with me
in his present condition. I shall be the
laughing-stock of Cape Town. I have an
appointment later in the day to deliver old
179
Milray's billet-doux, but I shall not take
Pagett with me. Confound the fellow and his
prowling ways.
Altogether I am decidedly out of temper.
I had a poisonous breakfast with poisonous
people. Dutch waitresses with thick ankles
who took half an hour to bring me a bad bit of
fish. And this farce of getting up at 5 a.m. on
arrival at the port to see a blinking doctor and
hold your hands about your head simply
makes me tired.
Later.
A very serious thing has occurred. I went to
my appointment with the Prime Minister,
taking Milray's sealed letter. It didn't look as
though it had been tampered with, but inside
was a blank sheet of paper!
Now, I suppose, I'm in the devil of a mess.
Why I ever let that bleating old fool Milray
embroil me in the matter I can't think.
Pagett is a famous Job's comforter. He
displays a certain gloomy satisfaction that
maddens me. Also, he has taken advantage of
my perturbation to saddle me with the
stationery trunk. Unless he is careful, the
next funeral he attends will be his own.
However, in the end I had to listen to him.
180
"Supposing, Sir Eustace, that Rayburn had
overheard a word or two of your conversation
with Mr. Milray in the street? Remember,
you had no written authority from Mr.
Milray. You accepted Rayburn on his own
valuation."
"You think Rayburn is a crook, then?" I
said slowly.
Pagett did. How far his views were
influenced by resentment over his black eye I
don't know. He made out a pretty fair case
against Rayburn. And the appearance of the
latter told against him. My idea was to do
nothing in the matter. A man who has
permitted himself to be made a thorough fool
of is not anxious to broadcast the fact.
But Pagett, his energy unimpaired by his
recent misfortunes, was all for vigorous
measures. He had his way, of course. He
bustled out to the police station, sent
innumerable cables, and brought a herd of
English and Dutch officials to drink whiskies
and sodas at my expense.
We got Milray's answer that evening. He
knew nothing of my late secretary! There was
only one spot of comfort to be extracted from
the situation.
"At any rate," I said to Pagett, "you
181
weren't poisoned. You had one of your
ordinary bilious attacks."
I saw him wince. It was my only score.
Later. Pagett is in his element. His brain
positively scintillates with bright ideas. He
will have it now that Rayburn is none other
than the famous "Man in the Brown Suit." I
dare say he is right. He usually is. But all this
is getting unpleasant. The sooner I get off to
Rhodesia the better. I have explained to
Pagett that he is not to accompany me.
"You see, my dear fellow," I said, "you
must remain here on the spot. You might be
required to identify Rayburn any minute.
And, besides, I have my dignity as an English
Member of Parliament to think of. I can't go
about with a secretary who has apparently
recently been indulging in a vulgar streetbrawl."
Pagett
winced. He is such a respectable
fellow that his appearance is pain and
tribulation to him.
"But what will you do about your correspondence, and the notes for your speeches, Sir Eustace?"
"I shall manage," I said airily.
182
"Your private car is to be attached to the
eleven o'clock train to-morrow, Wednesday,
morning," Pagett continued. "I have made
all arrangements. Is Mrs. Blair taking a maid
with her?"
"Mrs. Blair?" I gasped.
"She tells me you offered her a place."
So I did, now I come to think of it. On the
night of the Fancy Dress ball. I even urged
her to come. But I never thought she would.
Delightful as she is, I do not know that I want
Mrs. Blair's society all the way to Rhodesia
and back. Women require such a lot of
attention. And they are confoundedly in the
way sometimes.
"Have I asked anyone else?" I said
nervously. One does these things in a
moment of expansion.
"Mrs. Blair seemed to think you had asked
Colonel Race as well."
I groaned.
"I must have been very drunk if I asked
Race. Very drunk indeed. Take my advice,
Pagett, and let your black eye be a warning to
you, don't go on the bust again."
"As you know, I am a teetotaller. Sir
Eustace."
"Much wiser to take the pledge if you have
. 183
a weakness that way. I haven't asked anyone
else, have I, Pagett?"
"Not that I know of. Sir Eustace."
I heaved a sigh of relief.
"There's Miss Beddingfield," I said
thoug
htfully. "She wants to get to Rhodesia
to dig up bones, I believe. I've a good mind to
offer her a temporary job as secretary. She
can typewrite, I know, for she told me so."
To my surprise, Pagett opposed the idea
vehemently. He does not like Anne Beddingfield.
Ever since the night of the black eye,
he has displayed uncontrollable emotion
whenever she is mentioned. Pagett is full of
mysteries nowadays.
Just to annoy him. I shall ask the girl. As I
said before, she has extremely nice legs.
184
18
(Anne's Narrative Resumed)
I DON'T suppose that as long as I live I
shall forget my first sight of Table
Mountain. I got up frightfully early and
went out on deck. I went right up to the boat
deck, which I believe is a heinous offence, but
I decided to dare something in the cause of
solitude. We were just steaming into Table
Bay. There were fleecy white clouds hovering
above Table Mountain, and nestling on the
slopes below, right down to the sea, was the
sleeping town, gilded and bewitched by the
morning sunlight.
It made me catch my breath and have that
curious hungry pain inside that seizes one
sometimes when one comes across something
that's extra beautiful. I'm not very good at
expressing these things, but I knew well
enough that I had found, if only for a fleeting
moment, the thing that I had been looking for
ever since I left Little Hampsley. Something
"ew, something hitherto undreamed of,
185
something that satisfied my aching hunger
for romance.
Perfectly silently, or so it seemed to me, the Kilmorden glided nearer and nearer. It was
still very like a dream. Like all dreamers, however, I could not let my dream alone. We
poor humans are so anxious not to miss anything.
"This is South Africa," I kept saying to
myself industriously. "South Africa, South
Africa. You are seeing the world. This is the
world. You are seeing it. Think of it, Anne
Beddingfield, you pudding-head. You're
seeing the world."
I had thought that I had the boat deck to
myself, but now I observed another figure
leaning over the rail, absorbed as I had been
in the rapidly approaching city. Even before
he turned his head I knew who it was. The
scene of last night seemed unreal and
melodramatic in the peaceful morning sunlight.
What must he have thought of me? It
made me hot to realize the things that I had
said. And I hadn't meant them--or had I?
I turned my head resolutely away, and
stared hard at Table Mountain. If Rayburn
had come up here to be alone, I, at least, need
not disturb him by advertising my presence.
186
But to my intense surprise I heard a light
footfall on the deck behind me, and then his
voice, pleasant and normal:
"Miss Beddingfield."
"Yes?"
I turned.
"I want to apologize to you. I behaved like
a perfect boor last night."
"It—it was a peculiar night," I said hastily.
It was not a very lucid remark, but it was
absolutely the only thing I could think of.
"Will you forgive me?"
I held out my hand without a word. He
took it.
"There's something else I want to say."
His gravity deepened. "Miss Beddingfield,
you may not know it, but you are mixed up in
a rather dangerous business."
"I gather as much," I said.
"No, you don't. You can't possibly know. I
want to warn you. Leave the whole thing
alone. It can't concern you really. Don't let
your curiosity lead you to tamper with other
people's business. No, please don't get angry
again. I'm not speaking of myself. You've no
idea of what you might come up against—
these men will stop at nothing. They are
absolutely ruthless. Already you're in
miTBSl^Bl ' 187
danger—look at last night. They fancy you
know something. Your only chance is to
persuade them that they're mistaken. But be
careful, always be on the lookout for danger,
and, look here, if at any time you should fall
into their hands, don't try and be clever—tell
the whole truth, it will be your only chance."
"You make my flesh creep, Mr. Rayburn,"
I said, with some truth. "Why do you take
the trouble to warn me?"
He did not answer for some minutes, then
he said in a low voice:
"It may be the last thing I can do for you.
Once on shore I shall be all right—but I may
not get on shore."
"What?" I cried.
"You see, I'm afraid you're not the only
person on board who knows that I am 'The
Man in the Brown Suit'."
"If you think that I told——" I said hotly.
He reassured me with a smile.
"I don't doubt you. Miss Beddingfield. If I
ever said I did, I lied. No, but there's one
person on board who's known all along. He's
only got to speak—and my number's up. All
the same, I'm taking a sporting chance that he
won't speak."
"Why?"
188
"Because he's a man who likes playing a
lone hand. And when the police have got me I
should be of no further use to him. Free I
might be! Well, an hour will show."
He laughed rather mockingly, but I saw his
face harden. If he had gambled with Fate, he
was a good gambler. He could lose and smile.
"In any case," he said lightly, "I don't
suppose we shall meet again."
"No," I said slowly. "I suppose not."
"So-good-bye."
"Goodbye."
He gripped my hand hard, just for a minute
his curious light eyes seemed to burn into
mine, then he turned abruptly and"Teft me. I
heard his footsteps ringing along the deck.
They echoed and re-echoed. I felt that I
should hear them always. Footsteps--going
out of my life.
I can admit frankly that I did not enjoy the
next two hours. Not till I stood on the wharf,
having finished with most of the ridiculous
formalities that bureaucracies require, did I
breathe freely once more. No arrest had been
made, and I realized that it was a heavenly day, and that I was extremely hungry. I Joined Suzanne. In any case, I was staying the
night with her at the hotel. The boat did not
189
go on to Port Elizabeth and Durban until the
following morning. We got into a taxi and
drove to the Mount Nelson.
It was all heavenly. The sun, the air, the
flowers! When I thought of Little Hampsley
in January, the mud knee-deep, and the sureto-be-falling
rain, I hugged myself with
delight. Suzanne was not nearly so enthusiastic.
She has travelled a great deal of
course. Besides, she is not the type that gets
excited before breakfast. She snubbed me
severely when I let out an enthusiastic yelp at
the sight of a giant blue convolvulus.
By the way, I should like to make it clear
here and now that this story will not be a
story of South Africa. I guarantee no genuine
local colour--you know the sort of
thing--half a dozen words in italics on every
page. I admire it very much, but I can't do it.
In South Sea Islands, of course, you make an
immediate reference to beche-de-mer. I don't
know what beche-de-mer is, I never have
known, I probably never shall know. I've
guessed once or twice and guessed wrong. In
South Africa I know you at once begin to talk
about a stoep--1 do know what a stoep is--it's
a thing round a house and you sit on it. In
various other parts of the world you call it a
190
veranda, a piazza, and a ha-ha. Then again,
there are pawpaws. I had often read of
pawpaws. I discovered at once what they
were, because I had one plumped down in
front of me for breakfast. I thought at first
that it was a melon gone bad. The Dutch
waitress enlightened me, and persuaded me
to use lemon juice and sugar and try again. I
was very pleased to meet a pawpaw. I had
always vaguely associated it with a hula-hula,
which, I believe, though I may be wrong, is a
kind of straw skirt that Hawaiian girls dance
in. No, I think I am wrong—that is a lavalava.
At any rate, all these things are very
cheering after England. I can't help thinking
that it would brighten our cold Island life if
one could have a breakfast of' bacon-bacon^ and
then go out clad in ^jumper-jumper to pay the
books.
Suzanne was a little tamer after breakfast.
They had given me a room next to hers with a
lovely view right out over Table Bay. I looked
at the view whilst Suzanne hunted for some
special face-cream. When she had found it
and started an immediate application, she
became capable of listening to me.
"Did you see Sir Eustace?" I asked. "He
191
was marching out of the breakfast-room as we
went in. He'd had some bad fish or something
and was just telling the head waiter
what he thought about it, and he bounced a
peach on the floor to show how hard it
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