The Vanished Messenger

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XIX

  Mr. Fentolin remained upon the terrace long after the departure of hisguests. He had found a sunny corner out of the wind, and he sat therewith a telescope by his side and a budget of newspapers upon hisknee. On some pretext or another he had detained all the others of thehousehold so that they formed a little court around him. Even Hamel,who had said something about a walk, had been induced to stop by anappealing glance from Esther. Mr. Fentolin was in one of his mostloquacious moods. For some reason or other, the visit of the Saxthorpesseemed to have excited him. He talked continually, with the briefestpauses. Every now and then he gazed steadily across the marshes throughhis telescope.

  "Lord Saxthorpe," he remarked, "has, I must confess, greatly excitedmy curiosity as to the identity of our visitor. Such a harmless-lookingperson, he seems, to be causing such a commotion. Gerald, don't you feelyour responsibility in the matter?"

  "Yes, sir, I do!" Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. "I feel myresponsibility deeply."

  Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched Hamel onthe shoulder.

  "My young friend," he said, "your eyes are better than mine. You see theroad there? Look along it, between the white posts, as far as you can.What do you make of that black speck?"

  Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the littletripod stand.

  "It looks like a horse and trap," he announced. "Good!" Mr. Fentolindeclared. "It seemed so to me, but I was not sure. My eyes are weak thisafternoon. How many people are in the trap?"

  "Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man isdriving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way."

  Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. Hismaster whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed.

  "Let me make use of your eyes once more," Mr. Fentolin begged. "Aboutthese two men in the trap, Mr. Hamel. Is one of them, by any chance,wearing a uniform?"

  "They both are," Hamel replied. "The man who is driving is wearing apeaked hat. He looks like a police inspector. The man by his side is anordinary policeman."

  Mr. Fentolin sighed gently.

  "It is very interesting," he said. "Let us hope that we shall not see anarrest under my roof. I should feel it a reflection upon my hospitality.I trust, I sincerely trust, that this visit does not bode any harm toMr. John P. Dunster."

  Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. Mr.Fentolin, however, called him back.

  "Gerald," he advised, "better not go away. The inspector may desire toask you questions. You will have nothing to conceal. It was a naturaland delightful impulse of yours to bring the man who had befriended you,and who was your companion in that disaster, straight to your own homefor treatment and care. It was an admirable impulse, my boy. You havenothing to be ashamed of."

  "Shall I tell him, too--" Gerald began.

  "Be careful, Gerald."

  Mr. Fentolin's words seemed to be charged with a swift, rapier-likenote. The boy broke off in his speech. He looked at Hamel and wassilent.

  "Dear me," Mrs. Fentolin murmured, "I am sure there is no need for usto talk about this poor man as though anybody had done anything wrongin having him here. This, I suppose, must be the Inspector Yardley whomLord Saxthorpe spoke of."

  "A very intelligent-looking officer, I am sure," Mr. Fentolin remarked."Gerald, go and meet him, if you please. I should like to speak to himout here."

  The dog-cart had drawn up at the front door, and the inspector hadalready alighted. Gerald intervened as he was in the act of questioningthe butler.

  "Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector," he said, "if youwill come this way."

  The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. Mr.Fentolin held out his hand.

  "You got my telephone message, inspector?" he asked.

  "We have not received any message that I know of, sir," the inspectorreplied. "I have come over here in accordance with instructions receivedfrom headquarters--in fact from Scotland Yard."

  "Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You've come over, I presume, to makeenquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?"

  "That is the name of the gentleman, sir."

  "I only understood to-day from my friend Lord Saxthorpe," Mr. Fentolincontinued, "that Mr. Dunster was being enquired about as though he haddisappeared. My nephew brought him here after the railway accident atWymondham, since when he has been under the care of my own physician. Itrust that you have nothing serious against him?"

  "My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, "is to see the gentlemanin question."

  "By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. "Gerald, will you take theinspector up to Mr. Dunster's rooms? Or stop, I will go myself."

  Mr. Fentolin started his chair and beckoned the inspector to follow him.Meekins, who was waiting inside the hall, escorted them by means of thelift to the second floor. They made their way to Mr. Dunster's room. Mr.Fentolin knocked softly at the door. It was opened by the nurse.

  "How is the patient?" Mr. Fentolin enquired.

  Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room.

  "Still unconscious," he reported. "Otherwise, the symptoms arefavourable. He is quite unfit," the doctor added, looking steadily atthe inspector, "to be removed or questioned."

  "There is no idea of anything of the sort," Mr. Fentolin explained. "Itis Inspector Yardley's duty to satisfy himself that Mr. Dunster is here.It is necessary for the inspector to see your patient, so that he canmake his report at headquarters."

  Doctor Sarson bowed.

  "That is quite simple, sir," he said. "Please step in."

  They all entered the room, which was large and handsomely furnished.Through the open windows came a gentle current of fresh air. Mr. Dunsterlay in the midst of all the luxury of fine linen sheets and embroideredpillow-cases. The inspector looked at him stolidly.

  "Is he asleep?" he asked.

  The doctor shook his head.

  "It is the third day of his concussion," he whispered. "He is stillunconscious. He will remain in the same condition for another two days.After that he will begin to recover."

  Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm.

  "You see his clothing at the foot of the bed," he pointed out. "Hislinen is marked with his name. That is his dressing-case with his namepainted on it."

  "I am quite satisfied, sir," the inspector announced. "I will notintrude any further."

  They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector into thelibrary and ordered whisky and cigars.

  "I don't know whether I am unreasonably curious," Mr. Fentolin remarked,"but is it really true that you have had enquiries from Scotland Yardabout the poor fellow up-stairs?"

  "We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir," the inspector replied."I have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover,immediately."

  "Pardon my putting it plainly," Mr. Fentolin asked, "but is our friend acriminal?"

  "I wouldn't go so far as that, sir," the inspector answered. "I knowof no charge against him. I don't know that I have the right to say somuch," he added, sipping his whisky and soda, "but putting two and twotogether, I should rather come to the conclusion that he was a person ofsome political importance."

  "Not a criminal at all?"

  "Not as I know of," the inspector assented. "That isn't the way I readthe enquiries at all."

  "You relieve me," Mr. Fentolin declared. "Now what about hispossessions?"

  "There's a man coming down shortly from Scotland Yard," the inspectorannounced, a little gloomily. "My orders were to touch nothing, but tolocate him."

  "Well, you've succeeded so far," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Here he is,and here I think he will stay until some days after your friend fromScotland Yard can get here."

  "It does seem so, indeed," the inspector agreed. "To me he looksterrible ill. But there's one thing sure, he's having all the care andattention that's possible.
And now, sir, I'll not intrude further uponyour time. I'll just make my report, and you'll probably have a visitfrom the Scotland Yard man sometime within the next few days."

  Mr. Fentolin escorted the inspector to his dog-cart, shook hands withhim, and watched him drive off. Only Mrs. Seymour Fentolin remained uponthe terrace. He glided over to her side.

  "My dear Florence," he asked, "where are the others?"

  "Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk," she answered. "Gerald hasdisappeared somewhere. Has anything--is everything all right?"

  "Naturally," Mr. Fentolin replied easily. "All that the inspectordesired was to see Mr. Dunster. He has seen him. The poor fellow wasunfortunately unconscious, but our friend will at least be able toreport that he was in good hands and well cared for."

  "Unconscious," Mrs. Fentolin repeated. "I thought that he was better."

  "One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair ofconcussion," Mr. Fentolin explained.

  Mrs. Fentolin laid down her work and leaned a little towards herbrother-in-law. Her hand rested upon his. Her voice had fallen to awhisper.

  "Miles," she said, "forgive me, but are you sure that you are notgetting a little out of your depth? Remember that there are some riskswhich are not worth while."

  "Quite true," he answered. "And there are some risks, my dear Florence,which are worth every drop of blood in a man's body, and every breathof life. The peace of Europe turns upon that man up-stairs. It is worthtaking a little risk for, worth a little danger. I have made my plans,and I mean to carry them through. Tell me, when I was up-stairs, thisfellow Hamel--was he talking confidentially to Gerald?"

  "Not particularly."

  "I am not sure that I trust him," Mr. Fentolin continued. "He had atelegram yesterday from a man in the Foreign Office, a telegram which Idid not see. He took the trouble to walk three miles to send the replyto it from another office."

  "But after all," Mrs. Fentolin protested, "you know who he is. You knowthat he is Peter Hamel's son. He had a definite purpose in coming here."

  Mr. Fentolin nodded.

  "Quite true," he admitted. "But for that, Mr. Hamel would have founda little trouble before now. As it is, he must be watched. If any onecomes between me and the things for which I am scheming to-day, theywill risk death."

  Mrs. Fentolin sighed. She was watching the figures of Esther and Hamelfar away in the distance, picking their way across the last strip ofmarshland which lay between them and the sea.

  "Miles," she said earnestly, "you take advice from no one. You will goyour own way, I know. And yet, it seems to me that life holds so manycompensations for you without your taking these terrible risks. I am notthinking of any one else. I am not pleading to you for the sake of anyone else. I am thinking only of yourself. I have had a sort of feelingever since this man was brought into the house, that trouble would comeof it. To me the trouble seems to be gathering even now."

  Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously.

  "Presentiments," he scoffed, "are the excuses of cowards. Don't beafraid, Florence. Remember always that I look ahead. Do you think that Icould stay here contented with what you call my compensations--my art,the study of beautiful things, the calm epicureanism of the sedate andsimple life? You know very well that I could not do that. The cravingfor other things is in my heart and blood. The excitement which I cannothave in one way, I must find in another, and I think that before manynights have passed, I shall lie on my pillow and hear the guns roar,hear the footsteps of the great armies of the world moving into battle.It is for that I live, Florence."

  She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the sky-line.Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came.

  "You understand?" he whispered. "You begin to understand, don't you?"

  She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work.

  "I suppose so," she sighed.