by Edith Nesbit
“You know the adage,” she had said the night before; “‘Appear before breakfast, perish before tea.’ Rose will preside,” And Rose presided.
“It’s all so much too near being perfect,” Esther suddenly spoke to Anthony in a key lower than that of the conversation, which was in C Major. “Of course I know this luxury’s very wrong, and you’re a wicked aristocrat, living on other people’s toil, but it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. And every one’s so nice. Are all the noblemen of England jolly? Or are we extra lucky? Do all people with titles live in this do-as-you-like way? Is it your atmosphere or the atmosphere of the upper classes?”
“I’m inclined to think it’s yours,” he said, “and Rose’s, and Linda’s and Bats and the rest of you. You must have brought it with you.”
“Don’t you feel,” she went on, “rather like a Marquis just before the French Revolution? If I were you, I should feel that something were going to happen, that it couldn’t last. Suppose we heard a faint, far-away shouting, and it was the Great Voice of the People with pikes and guns clamouring for your blood at one of your picturesque lodge-gates?”
“They won’t clamour,” said Anthony almost sadly; “they haven’t sense enough. They wouldn’t touch a gun; they touch a cap. Pull a trigger? Not they! They only know how to pull a forelock.”
“Then you’re not afraid.”
“No,” said Anthony. “I don’t think I am.”
“Is there no dark passage in your past,” Esther went on, in a hollow voice, “that calls you to beware?”
“I haven’t heard it,” said Anthony, laughing.
“Then you feel no thrill of apprehension when you perceive the uniform of the local constable appearing and disappearing among the trees of your park?”
“Constable? “ said the doctor sharply; “where? “ Esther pointed.”But you’ve nothing to be afraid of,” she told the doctor. “It’s the wicked baronet whose accomplices have betrayed him; the head of the secret coining gang.”
“There is a policeman, though,” said the doctor earnestly; “what can he want?”
“To make an appointment for Sunday with one of the under housemaids,” said Lord Alfriston, “under cover of a report about poachers.”
The policeman was now seen to be approaching across the smooth path, the sunlight glinting on his buttons. A pang of sickening doubt shot through Anthony. Suppose Bats were right, and some one — it was inconceivable, but then any explanation was inconceivable — suppose the whole thing was a plot to get him into trouble — suppose this man had come to arrest him — him, Anthony, how would it be with her? He believed that she lived. But, after that injection, she would not live another day unless he was at hand to continue the treatment, the same treatment that had succeeded with the bird, the monkey, and the little boy now so happily alive at Esher. He sprang up.
“Come on, Billy,” he said, “let’s go and hear about the poachers.”
Bats followed him.
“If you’re right,” said Anthony, quick and low, “if that man has come to arrest me, say you’re me, will you? It will just give me time to get to her and make the next injection. She’ll have to come to life here, of course; infernal nuisance. But if she’s left for another twenty-four hours she will be dead. Keep him as long as you can. I can barricade myself into that lab for long enough to make everything safe for her”
The policeman was out of sight when they got to the end of the terrace. They ran down the steps and saw him making for the side door.
“Don’t let him get at the house,” said Anthony.
“All right! All right!” said Bats impatiently. “Hi! hullo!” he shouted.
The constable turned his head, then himself, and walked heavily towards them.
“What do you want?” said Bats, when they met.
The man saluted and fumbled in his pocket.
“He’s got a warrant, or whatever it is,” Anthony told himself; “and yet it can’t be.”
“I wished to ask Sir Anthony Drelincourt,” said the policeman, still fumbling.
“Yes?” said Bats.
“If you would be so kind, Sir, to support the police fête on the seventeenth of next month in aid of the widows and orphans of members of the force?”
“Oh, rather,” said Anthony, and laughed aloud. “I thought you’d come about poachers or something like that,” he added, to explain that inappropriate laugh; “glad it’s only a fête. Here, let’s have the tickets.”
A glad-hearted policeman went down the drive chinking gold in his pocket.
“Something like a gentleman,” he told himself.
“Look here,” said Anthony, “I shall give myself away if I don’t look out. It’s your doing, Billy. You and Wilton between you. You must run that picnic, as I said, and let me get clean away. And I’ll think of some excuse for our not going with them to the picnic.”
“Let me send for the police, like a sensible chap,” said Bats.
“It’s impossible,” said Anthony earnestly; “I can’t go into it all now. There’s a lot more to it, Billy. But even if you’re right and I’m a silly lunatic, there are three of us to swear to finding her. None of us can get into any row over it. There are no risks. If there were I should do so just the same. It’s much the most important chance I’ve ever had. I tell you there are things — Talk about something else, will you? We mustn’t arrive in silence.”
When they got back to the terrace, the whole party was engaged in gathering roses with which to pelt Lady Blair, who, in the wonderful chestnut pig-tailed wig and a blue kimono, was leaning out of her window. She looked about twenty-five, and the powder did not show at all at that distance. She kissed a little pale hand to the two as they came within her range of vision.
“The top of the morning to you,” she called; “and what’s the programme for to-day?”
“Isn’t there a ruined abbey, or a castle or something?” Drelincourt called back; “to-day was made for a picnic.”
“Of course there is. Both!” she said. “I’m coming down to organize the picnic. It’s absolutely the thing.
Is it a popular idea? or a little unsupported project of your own?”
“It’s the thing,” said every one. And Lord Alfriston said: “I could find it in my heart to be the person named Whitehead.”
“Who was he? “ asked Esther, who didn’t know.
Lord Alfriston recited the immortal words —
“There was a young person named Whitehead,
Who never knew when he was slighted;
When he went to a party
He’d eat just as hearty
As if he’d been really invited.”
“Thank you,” said Anthony. “I think that is the most touching compliment I ever received. Of course, I hoped you could stay and would.”
“Concealment is at an end,” said Lord Alfriston; “I have been hoping ever since I came yesterday that you wouldn’t be able to part with me this morning.”
Lady Blair had disappeared.
“I’m so glad to see you still at large,” said Esther, who seemed somehow like somebody else; “the coining industry is not yet ruined.”
“I am spared,” said Drelincourt, “for the moment. He had a writ or a warrant or whatever it is in his pocket, but my face and manner disarmed him, and he pretended that it was a subscription to a skittle alley for the use of disabled policemen that he was after.”
There was a chorus of laughter.
“Wouldn’t it be pretty and romantic of us to go and feed the swans,” suggested Bats, collecting bread from the table. And the chorus broke up into duets.
“Look here, Rose,” said Anthony, the moment he and she were alone together in the swan-ward procession. “Something rather unusual has happened, and the doctor and I have got to go to London. I want you to keep things going. You and Billy can do it. I don’t want explications, or to have to lie in detail to the whole lot of them. And there isn’t time to lie artistically; and t
here isn’t time to tell the truth to them. There isn’t time to tell the truth to you.”
“It’s nothing horrid, is it?” she asked. “You might tell me, Tony. Just in three words.”
“Three thousand wouldn’t do justice to it. No, it’s very exciting; it’s to do with my work. It’s really the chance of a lifetime. I can’t tell you any more. There isn’t time. But I’m going to say we’ll join you at the Abbey, or whatever it is. And then I shan’t. Bats will turn up alone, and say I’ve been telegraphed for to go to London on urgent business. I’ll try to get back to-night. I shan’t be able to really; but he’d better say that. I don’t want to break up the party; they seem so happy.”
“Yes,” said Rose; “but I wish I knew.”
“You can’t know now. It would take ages. We’re just upon the others. Back me up, there’s a dear, and play up for all you know to keep things jolly. And don’t say a word to any one. You shall know all about it in time. I couldn’t make you understand without a lot of explanation.”
“All right,” said Rose cheerfully; “if it’s about your work I know I should want to be a good deal explained to.”
“I wish we’d been the first lovers,” he said, with unusual tenderness; “you’d never have got turned out of Paradise for silly curiosity.”
“How well you know me,” she laughed, but she thrilled to the tone, and stroked his sleeve furtively with two fingers. Also she flushed a little, remembering shamefully how she had pried into his laboratory against his wishes — and found Mr. Abrahamson.
“I wish you weren’t going,” she said. “Do you know, I sometimes wish you hadn’t any work. I should like just to live here and spend your money. What a time we’d give my biscuit boys! That’s the best of having been poor. One knows how to spend money. These rich people don’t And I do like swans,” she ended, as they joined the group by the lake. “They are the only people who can be greedy gracefully.”
Anthony got away from his guests and waited in the hall till Lady Blair came down the stairs, charming in grey muslin and pink roses. Her face, fresh from the clever hands of her maid, was a masterpiece veiled by chiffon.
“You look like Aurora,” he said, taking her hand at the foot of the stairs. “Just come into the library a moment, will you? I want to conspire with you.”
“There’s nothing I love better than a conspiracy,” she said, making soft eyes at him, quite prettily too, for all her years; “unless it’s a conspirator.”
They were alone in the library.
“This picnic,” he said, “you’ll make it ‘go,’ won’t you? I have some important letters to write. So has Bats. And the doctor has to do his column of medical answers to correspondents for Lily of the Valley. It’s the way the poor live, you know. So you must start without us. We will take the little car and join you at the ruin, or whatever it is. Only I shall get an important telegram and have to go to London, and the doctor will go with me. Bats will come and tell you, and you will be much surprised and disappointed.”
“I’m both already,” she said.
“I hope to get back to-night,” Anthony went on, “but, as a matter of fact, I know I shan’t be able to. I’ll do the rest with telegrams. It’s a question of some of my experiments, and I don’t know how long it’ll take.”
“Must you go?”
“Absolutely. But I don’t want to break up the party. Every one seems to be having a good time. And I want you to keep it going till I get back, and to expect me every day for certain. Will you?”
“How delightfully mysterious. Of course I will. But I want to know a little more. Is it really experiments? Or is it something you’ve suddenly got to adjust; some old entanglement, perhaps? I’m secret as the grave? And if I could help in any way?”
“If you could, I’d ask you like a shot,” he answered, and added with intentional disingenuousness, “I don’t know how you guessed. But it is an old affair. You won’t talk about it to any one, will you? especially not to Rose.”
“My dear boy,” said Lady Blair, “any one would think you were talking to a girl. If I haven’t learnt to hold my tongue by now, I’m afraid I never shall learn it.”
“So that’s settled,” said Anthony. “I never can make up my mind whether you’re most like the fairy godmother or the fairy princess. But anyhow...” he carried her hand to his lips.... “Get them off as soon as you can, won’t you? “he said.
“You’re very handsome this morning,” said Lady Blair, “and very — what shall we say? — interested.”
“I’m intolerably interested,” said Anthony quite truthfully. “I want to get the matter settled.”
“Don’t be too interested,” said Lady Blair; “these old entanglements — I could tell you a story — the man had to marry the young woman, and he was engaged to a Really Nice Girl. These last meetings, you know — so dangerous.”
“Exactly. I’m taking Wilton with me,” said Anthony. I cannot excuse him.
“That’s very wise,” Lady Blair said; “it’s the despairing parting tête-à-tête that ruins a young man’s life. Now don’t worry. Trust me entirely. And get back as soon as you can to your Fairy Princess and your Fairy Godmother. Where is the fairy princess, by the way? Your beautiful Rose.”
“Feeding the swans, of course. That one. Where should a fairy princess be? Unless she’s talking to the poor entangled Prince. I suppose I am a prince, if you’re a princess.”
“I’ll tell you what you are,” said Lady Blair; “you’re different. And if I were Rose I should get the wedding day fixed.”
Anthony felt suddenly ashamed of himself.
“Will you drive?” he said. “What carriages shall I order? I’ll go round to the stables myself. Oh! but I’d like to.”
And, on that, got away.
Lady Blair would have made an excellent Commanding Officer. Within an hour of Anthony’s appeal she had her flock arranged, her hampers ready, her carriages at the door. In a flutter of smiles and ribbons and gay last words, they drove off.
“Thank God!” said Anthony, on the terrace as the last carriage vanished among the trees. “Now, Wilton, come on into the library. I suppose Bats told you what I mean to do?”
“It’s an insane thing,” said Wilton slowly. “The police—”
“You can give me up to the police if you like,” said Anthony; “but, unless you do, I’m going through with it. Come on.”
The Empire room within the library was a safe place to talk in.
“I’ve looked out a train,” said Wilton; “there’s one at 1.7. And that idea of carpenters and packing cases is rotten. You don’t want any more people in it. There’s an inlaid chest in the hall. It’s only got tennis rackets in it. Couldn’t you be taking that up to your rooms in London with apparatus in it — if you like.”
“Can you and I move it?”
“I should think so,” said Wilton; “but why make a secret of that? You rather want to make a show of it Ring for your footman. Tell them what you’re going to do. Tell them to have a cart or something ready to take it to the station.”
“Has it got a lock?”
“Yes, a modern one. The key of my bureau fits it. I’ve been attending to that. And I thought I’d meet the telegraph boy, and bring you a telegram while they’re bringing the box in. I’ve got an old red envelope.”
“Good!” said Anthony. “You are some good after all, Wilton.”
“Then when they’ve brought the thing in here we can carry the body up and put it in and lock it up. I’m a fool to help you, I know, but I”
“Don’t try to excuse yourself for one of the very few sensible things you’ve ever done,” said Anthony. “Ring the bell, then, and let’s get it over.” He gave his orders to the servant whom the bell summoned, and the chest was brought in.
“Will you want any straw or packing of any sort, sir? “the man asked. “Or could I pack for you?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather see to it myself,” Anthony told him. “And I
’m not to be disturbed. I have letters to write.”
The man went out, and Anthony, having waited till ne had passed across the library and closed its door behind him, locked the door of the little boudoir, set the lid of the chest wide, and led the way to the staircase.
In the laboratory he paused and stood a moment with his hand on the barometer.
“If I’m right, Wilton,” he said, “you must prepare for a shock. It’s rather decent of you to help me, backing my hand blind like this, and I’ll tell you what. If you still think it’s a case for the police when you’ve seen her again, I’ll — well, I’ll promise to think it over.” He could not bring himself to say more than that. And now he turned the barometer round and the spring clicked.
“Best light the lamp before we go in,” he said. And the lamp was lighted.
Wilton himself could not have told you what he expected. If he had been asked, he would have answered that he expected to find everything as they had left it last night, but this could not have been the fact, because, when he looked round the vaulted room and perceived no change, he experienced a faint sensation of disappointment. He did not know that it was disappointment, but it was.
Anthony closed the door.
“Now,” he said, “I want you to examine her heart and lungs. Satisfy yourself again that she is dead. We were all a little startled last night. I want your cool, measured, morning opinion. Go ahead, man.”
The doctor obeyed. The examination was more searching and more prolonged than the last. But the verdict was the same. Only it was given in a different tone, and in different words.
“I find no sign of life,” said the doctor. “I fear she is dead.” And he said nothing more about the police.
“Well then,” said Anthony, “I’ll carry her up.”
“I’ll take the feet,” said the doctor.
But Anthony had already stooped and gathered up the body as one gathers up a sick child.
“Bring the lambskin,” he said, standing up and shifting his burden so that most of the weight was on his left shoulder. “So: go first and show me the light.”