“I have a servant waiting close by,” she answered, “and I am not at all afraid. Think over what I have said to you—and good-bye.”
She drew her cloak around her and flitted away into the darkness.
XXVIII. A WOMAN’S TONGUE
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Grooton returned a few minutes later from the village. He begged the favour of a few words with me. He was a man of impassive features and singular quietness of demeanour. Yet it was obvious that something had happened to disturb him.
“I think it only right, sir, that you should know of the reports which are circulating in the neighbourhood,” he said, fixing his dark grave eyes respectfully upon me. “I called for a few minutes at the inn, and made it my business to listen.”
“Do these reports concern me, Grooton?” I asked.
“They do, sir.”
“Go ahead, then,” I told him.
“They refer also, sir,” he said, “to the man who was found dead near the cottage where you used to live in January last. He was supposed to have been washed up from the sea, but it has recently been stated that he was seen, on the evening of the day before his body was found, in the village, and it is also stated that he inquired from a certain person as to the whereabouts of your cottage. He set out with the intention of calling upon you, and he was found dead in the morning by you, sir, within a hundred yards of where you were living.”
“Anything else, Grooton?”
“There is a lot of foolish talk, sir. He is said to have been a relative of yours with whom you were not on good terms, and the young lady who has just given this information to the police through her father states that she has remained silent up to now at your request.”
“I am supposed, then,” I said, “to be concerned in this fellow’s death?”
“I have heard that opinion openly expressed, sir,” Grooton assented, respectfully.
I nodded.
“Thank you, Grooton,” I said. “I shall be prepared then for anything that may happen. If you hear anything further let me know.”
“I shall not fail to do so, sir,” he answered.
He bowed and withdrew. Then as I lit my pipe and resumed my seat it suddenly occurred to me that the man who was chiefly concerned in this matter should at least be warned. I sat down at my desk and wrote to Ray. I had scarcely finished when I heard footsteps outside, followed by an imperious knocking at my front door. I opened it at once. The Duke and Lady Angela entered. I saw at once from her disturbed expression that something had happened.
The Duke wore a long cape over his dinner clothes, and he had evidently walked fast. He looked at me sharply as I rose to my feet.
“Mr. Ducaine,” he said, “I have come to ask you to explain the sudden departure of my son for abroad.”
I was taken aback, and I dare say I showed it.
“I have already told Lady Angela—all that I know,” I said.
“My daughter’s story,” the Duke answered, “is incoherent. It tells me only enough to make me sure that something is being concealed.”
I glanced at Lady Angela. She was looking white and troubled.
“I have told my father,” she said, “all that I know.”
“Then I must discover the rest for myself,” the Duke replied. “I know that Blenavon is uncertain and unstable to a degree. When I heard that he had left for the Continent, I was not particularly surprised or interested. I have only just discovered the manner of his leaving. It puts an entirely different complexion upon the affair. I understand that he left with Colonel Ray without luggage or explanations of any sort. His own servant had no warning, and was left behind. My daughter informs me that such information as she has she gained from you. I require you to supplement it.”
“I am afraid that the only person who can enlighten you further, sir, is Colonel Ray,” I answered. “I understood you to say, I believe, that he would be here shortly.”
“I insist upon it,” the Duke said sternly, “that you tell me what you know at once and without further prevarication.”
I was in a dilemma from which there seemed to be no escape. Lady Angela had seated herself in my easy chair and was keeping her face averted from me. The Duke stood between us.
“I know very little, sir, except what I overheard,” I declared. “Colonel Ray was, I believe, responsible for Lord Blenavon’s abrupt departure, and I would rather that your information came from him.”
“Colonel Ray is not here, and you are,” the Duke answered. “Remember that I am no trifler with words. I have said that I insist. I repeat it!”
There seemed to be no escape for me. Lady Angela remained silent, the Duke was plainly insistent. I did not dare to trifle with him.
“Very good, your Grace,” I said, “I will tell you what I know. It dates from last Monday, when you will remember that I was in London to attend a meeting of the Council.”
“Go on!”
“I returned here by the last train, bringing with me the notes and instructions taken at that meeting. Outside Braster Grange an attack was made upon me, evidently with the intention of securing these. I escaped, with the assistance of Colonel Ray, who had come down from London by the same train unknown to me.”
“Well?”
“The attack was made from the grounds of Braster Grange. It seems that Lord Blenavon spent the night there. The next morning Colonel Ray insisted upon my accompanying him to Braster Grange. Lord Blenavon was still there, and we saw him. He was suffering from wounds such as in the darkness I had inflicted upon my assailant of the night before.”
It seemed to me that even then the Duke would not, or could not, understand. His brows were knitted into a heavy frown, and he was evidently following my story with close attention. But exactly where I was going to lead, he seemed to have no idea.
“The tenant of Braster Grange,” I continued, “is a Mrs. Smith-Lessing, whom Colonel Ray has told me is a servant of the French secret police. I am afraid that Lord Blenavon has been a good deal under her influence.”
Then the Duke blazed out, which was very much what I expected from him. Horror, amazement, and scornful disbelief were all expressed in his transfigured face and angry words.
“Blenavon! My son! The confederate of a French spy! What nonsense! Who dares to suggest such a thing? Angela—I—I beg your pardon.”
He stopped short, making an effort to regain his self-control. He continued in a more collected manner, but his voice still shook with inexpressible scorn.
“Angela,” he said, turning to her, “is it within your knowledge that Blenavon had any acquaintance with this person?”
I think that her face might well have answered him: very white it was, and very sorrowful.
“Blenavon met Mrs. Smith-Lessing, I believe, at Bordighera,” she said. “I have seen them together several times.”
“Here?” the Duke asked sharply.
“Yes, I have seen them riding on the sands, and Blenavon dined there on the night—Mr. Ducaine has been speaking of.”
“Blenavon is a fool!” the Duke said. “This is to my mind convincing proof that he was ignorant of the woman’s antecedents. At the worst he probably regarded her as an ordinary adventuress. As for the rest, I look upon it as the most extraordinary mare’s nest which the mind of man could possibly conceive. Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Ducaine, that Colonel Ray went so far as to charge Blenavon to his face with being in league with this person?”
“He certainly did, sir.”
“And Blenavon? Oh, Ray is mad, stark mad!”
“Your son denied it, sir,” I answered.
“Denied it! Of course he did. What followed?”
“Colonel Ray was very forcible and very imperative, sir,” I answered. “He insisted upon Lord Blenavon leaving England at once.”
“Well?”
“Lord Blenavon consented to do so, sir,” I said quietly.
I saw the veins in the Duke’s forehead stand out like whipcord. He began a sen
tence and left it unfinished. He was in that condition when words are impotent.
“Can you tell me, Mr. Ducaine,” he asked, “what possible argument Colonel Ray could have made use of to induce my son to consent to this extraordinary proceeding?”
“I know no more about the matter, your Grace,” I answered. “Perhaps Lord Blenavon felt that his intimacy with Mrs. Smith-Lessing had compromised him—that appearances were against him—”
“Pshaw!” the Duke interrupted. “Blenavon’s intrigues are foolish enough, but they are beside the mark.. I want to know what further argument or inducement Colonel Ray used. I understand neither why Ray desired to get rid of my son, nor why my son obeyed his ridiculous request.”
“Colonel Ray will doubtless have some further explanation to offer you, sir,” I said.
“He had better,” the Duke answered grimly. “I shall wire him to come here at once. With your permission, Mr. Ducaine, I will sit down for a moment. This affair has shaken me.”
Indeed, as the excitement passed away, I could see that he was looking ill and worn. Lady Angela made him take the easy chair, and he accepted a liqueur glass full of brandy which I poured out. He remained for several minutes sipping it and looking thoughtfully into the fire. He seemed to me to have aged by a dozen years. The brisk alertness of his manner had all departed. He was an old man, limp and querulous.
“This unfortunate affair, Mr. Ducaine,” he said, looking up at last, “remains of course between ourselves and Ray—and the woman.”
“It is unnecessary for you to ask me that, sir,” I answered quietly. “Colonel Ray will doubtless have some explanation. He is a man of vigorous temper, and I fancy that Lord Blenavon was not quite himself.”
The Duke rose to his feet.
“If you are ready, Angela,” he said, “we will not detain Mr. Ducaine further.”
“You will allow me to walk with you to the house, sir,” I begged.
He shook his head.
“I am quite recovered, I thank you,” he said. “My daughter will give me her arm.”
I let them out myself and held the lamp over my head to light them on their way. With slow uncertain steps, and leaning heavily upon Lady Angela’s arm, I watched him disappear in the blackness of the plantation.
XXIX. THE LINK IN THE CHAIN
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Practically for three days and three nights the Council sat continually. There was no pretence now at recreation, no other guests. We worked, all of us, from the Duke downwards, unflaggingly and with very little respite. When at last the end came, my padlocked notebook, with its hundreds of pages of hieroglyphics, held the principal material for three schemes of coast defence, each one considered separately and supported by a mass of detail as to transport, commissariat, and many minor points.
The principal members of the Council departed by special train early on Monday morning. I myself, a little dizzy and hot-eyed, walked across the park an hour after dawn, and flung myself upon my bed with a deep sigh of relief. Before I had closed my eyes, however, Grooton appeared with apologies for his dishabille.
“I have been up to the house twice, sir,” he said, “but they would not let me see you or even send in a message. I thought it only right to let you know at once, sir, that the police have been here rummaging about. They had what they called a search warrant, I believe. I came up to the house immediately, but I could not induce any of the servants to bring word in to you. Mr. Jesson, the Duke’s own man, told me that it was as much as his place was worth to allow any one to enter the library.”
“All right, Grooton,” I muttered. “Hang the police!”
I believe he said something else, but I never heard it. I was already fast asleep.
* * * * *
About mid-day I was awakened by the dazzling sunshine which seemed to fill the room. I called for a bath, dressed, and made an excellent breakfast. Then I brought out my notebook and prepared for work. I had scarcely dipped my pen in the ink, however, when a shadow darkened the window. I looked up quickly. It was Ray.
He entered without knocking, and I saw at once that he was in a strange condition. He scarcely greeted me, but sank into my easy chair, and drawing out his pipe began to fill it. Then I saw, too, what I had never seen before. His fingers were shaking.
“Boy,” he said, “have you any wine?”
“The Duke sent me some claret,” I answered. “Will that do?”
I summoned Grooton and ordered the wine and some biscuits. Ray was a man who ate and drunk sparingly. Yet he filled a tumbler and drank it straight off.
“You and I,” he remarked, “are the only two who sat the whole show out. It was a grind, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I answered, “but I have slept, and I feel none the worse for it. Lord Cheisford carried us on splendidly. There is solid work here,” I said; “something worth the planning.”
I touched my notebook almost affectionately, for the work was fascinating now that it had attained coherent form. Ray smoked on and said nothing for several minutes. Then he looked up at me.
“Have you a spare bedroom, Ducaine?”
“One or two,” I answered. “They are not all furnished, but one at any rate is decent.”
“Will you put me up for a day—perhaps two?”
“Of course,” I answered, “but—”
He answered my unspoken question.
“The Duke has turned me out,” he said grimly. “Who would have suspected the old man of such folly? He believes in Blenavon. I told him the plain truth, and he told me that I was a liar.”
“I thought that he would be difficult to convince,” I remarked.
“He has all the magnificent pig-headedness of his race,” Ray answered. “Blenavon is Blenavon, and he can do no wrong. He would summon him home again, but fortunately the young man himself is no fool. He will not come. You told Lady Angela?”
“Everything.”
“She believed you?”
“I think that she did,” I answered.
His face softened.
“The Duke showed me from the door himself,” he said. “You will not object to my sending a note to Lady Angela by your servant?”
“Make whatever use of him you choose,” I answered. “There are pen and ink and notepaper upon the table.”
Then I settled down to my work. Ray wrote his note, and went upstairs to sleep. In an hour’s time he was down again. There were black rims under his eyes, and I could see at once that he had had no rest. Grooton had brought his bag from the house, and a note from Lady Angela. He read it with unchanging face, and placed it carefully in his breast coat-pocket.
“I am off to the village to send some telegrams,” he said, “and afterwards I shall go on for a walk.” “What about lunch?” I asked, glancing at the clock. “None for me,” he answered. “Some tea at four o’clock, if I may have it. I will be back by then.” He swung off, and I was thankful, for my work demanded my whole attention and very careful thought. At a few minutes after four he returned, and Grooton brought us some tea. Directly we were alone Ray looked across at me with a black frown upon his face.
“You know what they are saying in the village about you, young man?”
“I can guess,” I answered.
“Who is this girl, Blanche Moyat?”
“A farmer’s daughter,” I answered. “It seems that I paid her too much or too little, attention, I am not sure which. At any rate, she has an imaginary grievance against me, and this is the result.”
“She tells the truth?”
“I have not heard her story,” I answered, “but it is true that I encouraged her to suppress the fact that she bad seen the man in the village, and that he had asked for me.”
“What folly!”
“Perhaps,” I answered. “You see, I thought that a verdict of ‘found drowned’ would save trouble.”
“This accursed woman at the Grange is in it, I know,” Ray remarked, slowly filling his pipe. “I won
der if she knew that I was about? That would give her a zest for the job.”
“She knows that you were at Braster at the time,” I said. “It was the night of your lecture.”
Ray began to blow out dense clouds of smoke.
“We’re safe,” he said thoughtfully, “both of us. There’s just a link in the chain missing.”
“The police have been here with a warrant in search of that link,” I remarked.
“They’ll never find it, for it’s in my pocket,” he remarked grimly.
“Colonel Ray,” I said, suddenly nerving myself to risk his anger, “there is a question which I must ask you.”
I saw his lips come firmly together. He neither encouraged nor checked me.
“Who was that man?”
“You are better ignorant.”
“Was it my father?”
If he did not answer my question, it at least seemed to suggest something to him.
“Has that woman been here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“She believes that it was your father?”
“She does.”
He removed his pipe from his teeth and looked at it thoughtfully.
“Ah!” he said.
“You have not answered my question,” I reminded him.
“Nor am I going to,” he replied coolly. “You know already as much as is good for you.”
He rose and threw open the door of my cottage. For several moments he stood bareheaded, looking up towards the house, looking and listening. He glanced at his watch, and walked several times backwards and forwards from the edge of the cliff to my door. Then he came in for his hat and stick.
“I am going down to the sea,” he said. “If Lady Angela comes, will you call me? I shall not be out of hearing.”
“You are expecting her?” I asked, looking down at my work.
“Yes. It was necessary for me to see her somewhere, so I asked her to come here. Perhaps the Duke has found out and stopped her. Anyhow, call me if she comes.”
He stepped outside, and I heard him scrambling down the cliff. I set my teeth and turned to my work. It was a hard thing to have my little room, with its store of memories, turned into a meeting-place for these two. I at least would take care to be far enough away. And then I began wondering whether she would come. I was still wondering when I heard her footsteps.
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