As we stole over the old stone bridge and I brought the car to rest. Lady Helena Yorick came out of the house, and, behind her, a great Alsatian, a very beautiful hound.
Here for the first time I saw how truly lovely she was, for now she was standing in a sunshine that raked her from head to toe.
She was dressed for riding astride, in a silk shirt and breeches and boots: her head was bare, and her figure was very slim. She was tall for a woman, and straight, and bore herself very well, yet she seemed very dainty and nothing about her suggested the way of a man. There were lights in her soft black hair and her colour was high, but though she looked very healthy the sun had not touched her skin, which was very white. Her eyes were grave, and her gaze was deep and fearless and very quiet. If her exquisite mouth was proud, her smile was swift, and her eager parted lips were friendly as those of a child: her charm was dazzling.
Indeed, as she stood there, waiting, whilst we climbed out of the car, I remember thinking that the path which young Florin had trodden was not a hard path to tread, and that, though it led to his destruction, many a man would have been content to take it for the sake of the light in her eyes.
I introduced my cousin and the lady gave him her hand.
"I know your work," she said. "You painted my mother's brother six years ago."
Geoffrey put a hand to his head and stared at the sky. Then
"In Philadelphia," he said. "He carried his head as you do and he had the same blue-black hair."
For a moment they spoke of her mother's American home, whilst I caressed the Alsatian and marked the strength and beauty with which the dog was endowed. His name, I soon learned, was Sabre, but though he suffered my kindness, he did not respond, but only regarded me gravely and then glanced up at the lady that filled his eyes.
At length—
"Plumage," said Geoffrey, "deserves its beautiful name. Will you let me paint it one day, when the battle is done?"
Lady Helena laughed.
"I see," she said, "that you have been reading the map."
For a moment I stared. Then "This isn't Yorick?" I cried.
"No," said Geoffrey. "But it's on the Yorick estate. Yorick itself is three miles beyond these woods."
"And six miles from Annabel," said Lady Helena. "Remembering that, Mr. Bohun, do you still propose to stay there?"
"No," said Geoffrey, "we don't. We've— er— changed our minds."
"I'm glad to hear it," said the girl. "Mr. Spencer is rather headstrong, and he doesn't seem to consider that he's rather too young to die."
"That's very true," said Geoffrey. "He's only got one idea. But let me be frank with you. I've only got two myself."
Lady Helena opened her eyes. "May I hear them?" My cousin nodded.
"The first is the same as his: and the second is to save his life."
Lady Helena stood very still Then she turned to the bench on the left of the door.
"Let's thrash this out," she said.
She took her seat in the middle and we sat one on each side.
"You may take it from me," she said, "that this is no ordinary case. I know what these men are out for, and they're not going to stand any rot. Now I really mean that. And I can do nothing to appease them. If it was my jewels, they could have them— young Florin was above rubies. But they are not after my jewels; they're after something which isn't mine to give them and which they will never get.
"Now, how d'you think they feel about Mr. Spencer? They know that he has the power not only to ruin their game, but to send them to prison and death. Of course, I can't answer for them, but if I were in their position, I'll tell you how I should feel. I should not rest until Mr. Spencer was dead. And please remember this isn't England. The country is very wild and hopelessly policed: and if you want to do murder, it's fifty to one on your getting away with the crime."
There was a little silence. Then—
"I'm inclined to agree," said Geoffrey. "If you'd said as much this morning. I should have said you were wrong, for I think the return of his letter was an order for him to clear out. But now the case is altered. Through no fault of his own he's given them reason to think that he means to treat that order with all the contempt it deserves. Now, mark you, it wasn't his fault. We bumped into them again. John walked into their arms."
"My God!" said the girl.
"But, as you see," said Geoffrey, "he also walked out. To tell you the truth, we had the best of the brush. But, I fear that the damage is done. They believe that he's out to get them, and if he leaves the country I give you my word I think they'll follow him out."
Lady Helena stared at the lane by which we had come.
"You say," she said, "that you had the best of the brush."
"We put their car out of action. They won't be able to move for twenty-four hours."
"That's a start worth having. He could be in London tomorrow if you left Salzburg tonight."
My cousin sighed.
"My lady," he said, "for one thing, he wouldn't go: and, for another, it wouldn't be any use. Their finding that letter was deadly: it bore his London address."
"Then what's to be done?"
"He must have his wish," said Geoffrey. "Fate has played into his hands, and the only thing he can do is to stand and fight."
Lady Helena rose.
As Geoffrey and I stood up—
"I'm sorry" she said coldly. "From what Mr. Spencer told me, I fully believed I could count upon your support. He's very young and downright, and he can see nothing but red. But I fully believed you would see that my consent must be given before you took on these men. The man who is dead was my servant, and the men are after my goods. If you stand and fight you will therefore be fighting my battle, and that gives me the clear right to decline your help. And I do decline it, Mr. Bohun. You cannot enter this quarrel without helping me: and I do not desire your assistance. If London's not safe, then leave for Paris tonight. And go to Spain or Norway. Don't try to make me believe that if Mr. Spencer lies low for a month or six weeks, he can't walk down Piccadilly for fear of losing his life."
"I'm damned if I'm going,'' said I.
Lady Helena turned upon me with blazing eyes.
"I beg your pardon."
My blood was up, and I gave her back look for look.
"I said I'm damned if I'm going. And I'll tell you another thing. I'm damned if I'm going to be treated as though I were seven years old. I've sat here and let you argue as if I were a horse or a dog— dispute as to what I should do and where I should go: why I must do this or do that and whether London would suit me or whether I'd do better in Spain. I've seen a good man murdered: because he was your servant, you say that it rests with you what action I take—that I must do as you say, because you've the right to decide. With respect, I deny your right. I say it's a matter for me. Geoffrey says I've no choice but take on these men. I daresay he's right; but, choice or no, I'd have done it— he knows I would. If I'm cramping your style, I'm sorry. If my help is so distasteful—"
"I never said that."
"You said you declined it," I said. "I suppose that means you don't want to be under an obligation. Well, please believe you won t be. This is my show. If it helps you at all I'm happy— you can't mind that. But I don't expect favourable treatment because by the merest chance I happen to be rolling your log."
The girl looked me up and down. Then she turned to Geoffrey.
"Is he often like this?" she said.
"Never," said Geoffrey gravely. "I think he must be annoyed."
Lady Helena did not reply. Instead she stepped to the fountain and stood looking into the basin with one of her hands to her mouth.
For a moment I hesitated. Then I made my way to the farther side of the Rolls.
And there I was sitting, on the running-board, staring on the beauty before me and cursing my unruly tongue, when I heard a step on the pavement and before I could move my lady sat down by my side.
"Where are you staying?" she
said.
I swallowed.
"I don't quite know," I answered. "We haven't found anywhere yet. We've looked at one or two inns, but they weren't any good."
The girl gazed into the distance. "I hope you'll stay here."
I could hardly believe my ears. "Here? At Plumage?" I cried.
"I hope so. I can answer for the man and his wife: and you'll have privacy here that you wouldn't get at an inn."
"It's ideal." I heard myself saying. "Simply ideal. We'll be on the spot, yet in hiding. But why— I don't understand."
"If you insist on fighting my battle, the least I can do is to billet you. Don't you agree?"
I turned and looked at her, but though I think she knew it, she did not turn.
"You're very generous." I said. "Twice today I've crossed you, and each time you've—"
"Made it up. "
"Far more than that," said I. "I have my way, and then you— you make me a present."
Slowly she turned till her steady grey eyes met mine.
"What present did I make you this morning?"
"You smiled," I said, "and took me into your car."
Her eyes left mine— to light on the driving mirror, all splintered and starred.
After a long look, they returned to me.
"Was that," she said, nodding, "a present from Annabel?"
"Yes."
Lady Helena Yorick rode up to the farm from the lonely castle.
"And you were driving?"
"I was."
"And you've not had enough?"
I laughed.
"I don't propose to drop in on the brutes again. And you must admit it was the most shocking luck."
"Ill give you that," said the girl. "Tell me exactly what happened. "
When I had told the story, she drew a deep breath.
"If you'd knocked on that door—" She shivered. "May I look at that letter of yours?"
I took it out of my pocket and put it into her hand.
She examined the envelope carefully. Then :
"Have you looked inside," she said, "since you got it back?"
I raised my eyebrows.
"As a matter of fact. I haven't. I never gave it a thought."
She pushed aside the torn edges and drew out the shoemaker's bill. The note on its back was printed and easy to read.
Dear Mr. Spencer,
The gentleman in green had done something which he must have known I should not like. That is why he was being buried. Verbum sap.
Yours very truly.
We read the words together, her face two inches from mine. Then we turned and looked at each other. But I had no thought for the note. Her hair had stung my temples, and I could only wonder whether she knew how terribly attractive she was.
For a moment she sat very still, with her eyes on the glowing landscape, and her underlip caught in her teeth. So for a long moment. And then she was up and was pushing her hair from her temples as though to be rid of her thoughts.
"Come. Let's talk to your cousin and then we can look at your rooms."
Over her shoulder she threw me a dazzling smile. "To tell you the truth they're ready. If you insisted on staying, I hoped you'd stay here."
Chapter 5
SHARP at eleven next morning Lady Helena Yorick rode up to the farm from the lonely castle. Her groom led two spare horses, for after we had consulted, Geoffrey and I were to ride to Yorick for lunch.
As I stepped to her side :
"Nothing new?" says she.
"Nothing," said I. "And you?" She shook her head.
"Except that my brother's returning. I wish he wasn't just now, but it can't be helped. At least he's coming alone. He's very young, you know; and people spoil him, and— and sometimes he makes the wrong friends." She laughed at the look in my eyes and swung herself off her bay. "Worries of a chatelaine," she added. "If only I'd been the boy, and my brother the girl. Where's Mr. Bohun?"
"Map-reading," said I. "His man with our big baggage, will get to Villach tonight. He's got to be met, of course. What Geoffrey is trying to do is to work out how we can fetch him without fetching Pharaoh, too."
Here Geoffrey walked out of the house and gave her good-day.
"And now tell me this," said he. "When you're at Yorick, can you get a message to Plumage except by sending a man?"
Lady Helena shook her head.
"Never mind." said Geoffrey. "I only wanted to know. And one other thing: had young Florin keys upon him?"
"No," said the girl. "The posterns have spring locks, so when the night watchman comes back he has to ring for his mate to let him in, and his mate brings down his keys. Young Florin was never missed until six o'clock, and then his mate woke up to find the keys still in his hand. By rights, of course, his mate should have stayed awake till young Florin came in; but, except that we'd have known sooner, I don't know what good it would have done."
"Well, you beat them there," said Geoffrey. "Young Florin was killed for the keys which he hadn't got."
"I think you're wrong," said the girl. 'To enter Yorick won't help them. I'm the person that matters. They've got to bring me to my knees."
Geoffrey looked at her very hard. Then:
"Lady Helena versus Pharaoh and others. You know I can't help feeling that you ought to go to the police."
My lady pulled off her gloves.
"I'll tell you one or two facts," she said. "My father had vision. He knew the Great War was coming, and he saw that after the war the world itself would fall upon evil times. Mother had a very great fortune, and father was rich, and his one idea was so to invest this money that, while the lean years were passing, it would be perfectly safe. I think he really wanted it for Yorick. Our motto is, 'All things pass, but Yorick endures.' Well, this idea obsessed him, and I think my mother's death affected his brain. He threw back to his ancestors, and he put his whole fortune in gold. Golden sovereigns, mostly." She put her hands to her eyes. "I tell you, it's the curse of my life."
"You don't mean—" began my cousin.
"Yes, I do." said the girl. "Lying in the cellars at Yorick is the best part of two million pounds. It's going, of course; we live upon capital. But, even so, it'll last for a hundred and fifty years; and long before that, of course, the idea was to change it back."
"Good heavens!" said Geoffrey. And then: "But what astonishing foresight your father had."
"He was wise— in theory. But how would you like to have charge of two million pounds in gold? The only people who know are old Florin and I. I said it was in the cellars, but it's not as easy as that. It's in a private cellar, the way to which nobody knows. Once a month I take what I need to Salzburg; there's an old firm of lawyers there that sees me through. But. of course, it was bound to come out. I've done my very best, but there's been a leakage somewhere, and Pharaoh knows.
"Well, there you are. He obviously can't get away with a million pounds. He could never transport it, for one thing. Very well, what's his object? I imagine to levy blackmail. Of course, I shan't submit, but I can't afford to let the position be known. That's why I can't go to the police."
She struck the turf with her palm. "You know what gold means today. Its possession was always dangerous. Men buried it in the ground and misers counted it over at dead of night. But today they wouldn't dare count it. I'd be an outlaw tomorrow if people knew. Everyone's hand would be against me, and half the thieves in Europe would be camping outside my gates."
"The remedy's too obvious," said Geoffrey. "Why don't you get rid of the stuff?"
A weary look came into the great grey eyes.
"Because I have passed my word. My father made me swear that until the world was settled I'd keep our fortune in gold." She shrugged her shoulders. "He was wise in theory, you know. You can't get away from that. How many people that had two million invested could raise one million today?"
There was a little silence.
Men were making hay in the distance and two bull-calves were sporting on
the farther side of the stream; a lark was singing in the heaven, and the steady hum of insects argued the summer heat. Pharaoh and all his works seemed suddenly absurd and fantastic in such a world.
"And you've no idea," said I, "how Pharaoh will go to work?"
"I wish I had," said the girl. "To give me away would be futile. I mean, it would kill the goose. He can rob me between here and Salzburg— I told you I go once a month. But he can't do that once a month for the rest of his life. I imagine he'll try next time, for a thousand pounds would be useful the sinews of war; and I think his failure last week may have had some— thing to do with Florin's death. But what's a thousand to Pharaoh, when he knows that there's more than a million lying to hand?"
I made no answer because there seemed none to make, and when I looked at my cousin he was frowning upon the bull-calves, as though their sport was untimely and their antics against the rules.
Lady Helena laced her fingers about a delicate knee.
"Well, now you know why Pharoah the Great is here. He may prove hard to deal with, but I'm in no personal danger. I think that's clear."
This was too much.
"Clear?" I cried. "I don't think it's clear at all. I think you're in very great danger by day and night. The man is ruthless— you know it. And you know that he's on a good thing the best thing he's ever dreamed of Thirty thousand a year for life, if he brings it off. And you hold the key in your hand."
"I entirely agree," said Geoffrey. "And I'll tell you another thing. In view of what you've told us this morning, I think it was no mere chance that sent John down to the dell."
Chapter 6
Yorick was like no castle that I have seen, for though it was moated, the moat was not under its walls, and the pile seemed to rise from an island which Nature had brought from a distance and set in a fold of the hills. And this, of course, was Time's doing, for the moat had been made by men's hands and the water that filled it ran in by two aged conduits and out by two more; but the work had come to seem natural after so many years. The building stood high, with forest rising behind it and falling away in front, and it looked what it was— a stronghold whose work was done. Its walls were bright with creepers, its battlements gay with flowers and its ramparts made a fine terrace on which a mighty awning was throwing a grateful shade.
Storm Music (1934) Page 3