The Vanished Messenger

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The beautiful but somewhat austere front of St. David's Hall seemed, ina sense, transformed, as Hamel and his companion climbed the worn greysteps which led on to the broad sweep of terrace. Evidently visitors hadrecently arrived. A dark, rather good-looking woman, with pleasant roundface and a ceaseless flow of conversation, was chattering away toMr. Fentolin. By her side stood another woman who was a stranger toHamel--thin, still elegant, with tired, worn face, and the shadow ofsomething in her eyes which reminded him at once of Esther. She wore alarge picture hat and carried a little Pomeranian dog under her arm. Inthe background, an insignificant-looking man with grey side-whiskers andspectacles was beaming upon everybody. Mr. Fentolin waved his hand andbeckoned to Hamel and Esther as they somewhat hesitatingly approached.

  "This is one of my fortunate mornings, you see, Esther!" he exclaimed,smiling. "Lady Saxthorpe has brought her husband over to lunch. LadySaxthorpe," he added, turning to the woman at his side, "let me presentto you the son of one of the first men to realise the elusive beauty ofour coast. This is Mr. Hamel, son of Peter Hamel, R.A.--the Countess ofSaxthorpe."

  Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting Esther, held out herhand and smiled good-humouredly at Hamel.

  "I know your father's work quite well," she declared, "and I don'twonder that you have made a pilgrimage here. They tell me that hepainted nineteen pictures--pictures of importance, that is to say--withinthis little area of ten miles. Do you paint, Mr. Hamel?"

  "Not at all," Hamel answered.

  "Our friend Hamel," Mr. Fentolin intervened, "woos other and sternermuses. He fights nature in distant countries, spans her gorges with ironbridges, stems the fury of her rivers, and carries to the boundary ofthe world that little twin line of metal which brings men like ants tothe work-heaps of the universe. My dear Florence," he added, suddenlyturning to the woman at his other side, "for the moment I had forgotten.You have not met our guest yet. Hamel, this is my sister-in-law, Mrs.Seymour Fentolin."

  She held out her hand to him, unnaturally thin and white, covered withjewels. Again he saw something in her eyes which stirred him vaguely.

  "It is so nice that you are able to spend a few days with us, Mr.Hamel," she said quietly. "I am sorry that I have been too indisposed tomake your acquaintance earlier."

  "And," Mr. Fentolin continued, "you must know my young friend here, too.Mr. Hamel--Lord Saxthorpe."

  The latter shook hands heartily with the young man.

  "I knew your father quite well," he announced. "Queer thing, he used tohang out for months at a time at that little shanty on the beach there.Hardest work in the world to get him away. He came over to dine with usonce or twice, but we saw scarcely anything of him. I hope his son willnot prove so obdurate."

  "You are very kind," Hamel murmured.

  "Mr. Hamel came into these parts to claim his father's property," Mr.Fentolin said. "However, I have persuaded him to spend a day or two uphere before he transforms himself into a misanthrope. What of his golf,Esther, eh?"

  "Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed," the girl replied.

  "Your niece was too good for me," Hamel confessed.

  Mr. Fentolin smiled.

  "The politeness of this younger generation," he remarked, "keeps thetruth sometimes hidden from us. I perceive that I shall not be told whowon. Lady Saxthorpe, you are fortunate indeed in the morning you havechosen for your visit. There is no sun in the world like an April sun,and no corner of the earth where it shines with such effect as here.Look steadily to the eastward of that second dike and you will see thepink light upon the sands, which baffled every one until our friendHamel came and caught it on his canvas."

  "I do see it," Lady Saxthorpe murmured. "What eyes you have, Mr.Fentolin! What perception for colour!"

  "Dear lady," Mr. Fentolin said, "I am one of those who benefit by thelaw of compensations. On a morning like this I can spend hours merelyfeasting my eyes upon this prospect, and I can find, if not happiness,the next best thing. The world is full of beautiful places, but thestrange part of it is that beauty has countless phases, and each phasediffers in some subtle and unexplainable manner from all others. Lookwith me fixedly, dear Lady Saxthorpe. Look, indeed, with more than youreyes. Look at that flush of wild lavender, where it fades into the sandson one side, and strikes the emerald green of that wet seamoss on theother. Look at the liquid blue of that tongue of sea which creeps alongits bed through the yellow sands, through the dark meadowland, whichcreeps and oozes and widens till in an hour's time it will have become ariver. Look at my sand islands, virgin from the foot of man, the home ofsea-gulls, the islands of a day. There may be other and more beautifulplaces. There is none quite like this."

  "I pity you no longer," Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. "The eyes ofthe artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the athlete."

  The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel foundhimself next to Lady Saxthorpe.

  "Dear Mr. Fentolin has been so kind," she confided to him as they tooktheir places. "I came in fear and trembling to ask for a very smallcheque for my dear brother's diocese. My brother is a colonial bishop,you know. Can you imagine what Mr. Fentolin has given me?"

  Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air oftriumph.

  "A thousand pounds! Just fancy that--a thousand pounds! And somepeople say he is so difficult," she went on, dropping her voice. "Mrs.Hungerford came all the way over from Norwich to beg for the infirmarythere, and he gave her nothing."

  "What was his excuse?" Hamel asked.

  "I think he told her that it was against his principles to give tohospitals," Lady Saxthorpe replied. "He thinks that they should besupported out of the rates."

  "Some people have queer ideas of charity," Hamel remarked. "Now I amafraid that if I had been Mr. Fentolin, I would have given the thousandpounds willingly to a hospital, but not a penny to a mission."

  Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance away,but his hearing was wonderful.

  "Ah, my dear Hamel," he said, "believe me, missions are very wonderfulthings. It is only from a very careful study of their results that Ihave brought myself to be a considerable supporter of those where I havesome personal knowledge of the organisation. Hospitals, on the otherhand, provide for the poor what they ought to be able to provide forthemselves. The one thing to avoid in the giving away of money ispauperisation. What do you think, Florence?"

  His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, lookedacross at him with a bright but stereotyped smile.

  "I agree with you, of course, Miles. I always agree with you. Mr.Fentolin has the knack of being right about most things," she continued,turning to Lord Saxthorpe. "His judgment is really wonderful."

  "Wish we could get him to come and sit on the bench sometimes, then,"Lord Saxthorpe remarked heartily. "Our neighbours in this part of theworld are not overburdened with brains. By-the-by," he went on, "thatreminds me. You haven't got such a thing as a mysterious invalid in thehouse, have you?"

  There was a moment's rather curious silence. Mr. Fentolin was sittinglike a carved figure, with a glass of wine half raised to his lips.Gerald had broken off in the middle of a sentence and was staring atLord Saxthorpe. Esther was sitting perfectly still, her face grave andcalm, her eyes alone full of fear. Lord Saxthorpe was not an observantman and he continued, quite unconscious of the sensation which hisquestion had aroused.

  "Sounds a silly thing to ask you, doesn't it? They're all full of itat Wells, though. I sat on the bench this morning and went into thepolice-station for a moment first. Seems they've got a long dispatchfrom Scotland Yard about a missing man who is supposed to be in thispart of the world. He came down in a special train on Tuesday night--thenight of the great flood--and his train was wrecked at Wymondham. Afterthat he was taken on by some one in a motor-car. Colonel Renshaw wantedme to allude to the matter from the bench, but it seemed to me that itwas an affair entirely for the
police."

  As though suddenly realising the unexpected interest which his words hadcaused, Lord Saxthorpe brought his sentence to a conclusion and glancedenquiringly around the table.

  "A man could scarcely disappear in a civilised neighbourhood likethis," Mr. Fentolin remarked quietly, "but there is a certain amount ofcoincidence about your question. May I ask whether it was altogether ahaphazard one?"

  "Absolutely," Lord Saxthorpe declared. "The idea seems to be that thefellow was brought to one of the houses in the neighbourhood, and wewere all rather chaffing one another this morning about it. InspectorYardley--the stout fellow with the beard, you know--was just startingoff in his dog-cart to make enquiries round the neighbourhood. If anyone in fiction wants a type of the ridiculous detective, there he is,ready-made."

  "The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, "iscertainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our gates."

  Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too long,laid down her knife and fork.

  "My dear Mr. Fentolin!" she exclaimed. "My dear Mrs. Fentolin! This isreally most exciting! Do tell us all about it at once. I thought thatthe man was supposed to have been decoyed away in a motor-car. Do youknow his name and all about him?"

  "There are a few minor points," Mr. Fentolin murmured, "such as hisreligious convictions and his size in boots, which I could not swearabout, but so far as regards his name and his occupation, I think I cangratify your curiosity. He is a Mr. John P. Dunster, and he appearsto be the representative of an American firm of bankers, on his way toGermany to conclude a loan."

  "God bless my soul!" Lord Saxthorpe exclaimed wonderingly. "The fellowis actually here under this roof! But who brought him? How did he findhis way?"

  "Better ask Gerald," Mr. Fentolin replied. "He is the abductor. It seemsthat they both missed the train from Liverpool Street, and Mr. Dunsterinvited Gerald to travel down in his special train. Very kind of him,but might have been very unlucky for Gerald. As you know, they gotsmashed up at Wymondham, and Gerald, feeling in a way responsible forhim, brought him on here; quite properly, I think. Sarson has beenlooking after him, but I am afraid he has slight concussion of thebrain."

  "I shall remember this all my life," Lord Saxthorpe declared solemnly,"as one of the most singular coincidences which has ever come within mypersonal knowledge. Perhaps after lunch, Mr. Fentolin, you will let someof your people telephone to the police-station at Wells? There really isan important enquiry respecting this man. I should not be surprised," headded, dropping his voice a little for the benefit of the servants, "tofind that Scotland Yard needed him on their own account."

  "In that case," Mr. Fentolin remarked, "he is quite safe, for Sarsontells me there is no chance of his being able to travel, at any rate fortwenty-four hours."

  Lady Saxthorpe shivered.

  "Aren't you afraid to have him in the house?" she asked, "a man who isreally and actually wanted by Scotland Yard? When one considers thatnothing ever happens here except an occasional shipwreck in the winterand a flower-show in the summer, it does sound positively thrilling. Iwonder what he has done."

  They discussed the subject of Mr. Dunster's possible iniquities.Meanwhile, a young man carrying his hat in his hand had slipped in pastthe servants and was leaning over Mr. Fentolin's chair. He laid twoor three sheets of paper upon the table and waited while his employerglanced them through and dismissed him with a little nod.

  "My wireless has been busy this morning," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Weseem to have collected about forty messages from different battleshipsand cruisers. There must be a whole squadron barely thirty miles out."

  "You don't really think," Lady Saxthorpe asked, "that there is any fearof war, do you, Mr. Fentolin?"

  He answered her with a certain amount of gravity. "Who can tell? Thepapers this morning were bad. This conference at The Hague is stillunexplained. France's attitude in the matter is especially mysterious."

  "I am a strong supporter of Lord Roberts," Lord Saxthorpe said, "and Ibelieve in the vital necessity of some scheme for national service. Atthe same time, I find it hard to believe that a successful invasion ofthis country is within the bounds of possibility."

  "I quite agree with you, Lord Saxthorpe," Mr. Fentolin declaredsmoothly. "All the same, this Hague Conference is a most mysteriousaffair. The papers this morning are ominously silent about the fleet.From the tangle of messages we have picked up, I should say, without adoubt, that some form of mobilisation is going on in the North Sea. IfLady Saxthorpe thinks it warm enough, shall we take our coffee upon theterrace?"

  "The terrace, by all means," her ladyship assented, rising from herplace. "What a wonderful man you are, Mr. Fentolin, with your wirelesstelegraphy, and your telegraph office in the house, and telephones. Doesit really amuse you to be so modern?"

  "To a certain extent, yes," Mr. Fentolin sighed, as he guided his chairalong the hall. "When my misfortune first came, I used to speculate agood deal upon the Stock Exchange. That was really the reason I went infor all these modern appliances."

  "And now?" she asked. "What use do you make of them now?"

  Mr. Fentolin smiled quietly. He looked out sea-ward, beyond thesky-line, from whence had come to him, through the clouds, that tangleof messages.

  "I like to feel," he said, "that the turning wheel of life is notaltogether out of earshot. I like to dabble just a little in theknowledge of these things."

  Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them.

  "You won't forget to telephone about this guest of yours?" he askedfussily.

  "It is already done," Mr. Fentolin assured him. "My dear sister, why sosilent?"

  Mrs. Fentolin turned slowly towards him. She, too, had been standingwith her eyes fixed upon the distant sea-line. Her face seemedsuddenly to have aged, her forced vivacity to have departed. Her littlePomeranian rubbed against her feet in vain. Yet at the sound of Mr.Fentolin's voice, she seemed to come back to herself as though by magic.

  "I was looking where you were looking," she declared lightly, "justtrying to see a little way beyond. So silly, isn't it? Chow-Chow, youbad little dog, come and you shall have your dinner."

  She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched herwith a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face.

  "Somehow or other," he remarked quietly, "Mrs. Fentolin never seems tohave got over the loss of her husband, does she? How long is it since hedied?"

  "Eight years," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It was just six months after myown accident."

  "I am losing a great deal of sympathy for you, Mr. Fentolin," LadySaxthorpe confessed, coming over to his side. "You have so manyresources, there is so much in life which you can do. You paint, aswe all know, exquisitely. They tell me that you play the violin like amaster. You have unlimited time for reading, and they say that you areone of the greatest living authorities upon the politics of Europe. Yourmorning paper must bring you so much that is interesting."

  "It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted, "that I have compensations which noone can guess at, compensations which appeal to me more as time stealson. And yet--"

  He stopped short.

  "And yet?" Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively.

  Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn beneath.He pointed downwards.

  "I was like that when I was his age," he said quietly.