CHAPTER XXX
Mr. Fentolin pointed to the little pile of books upon the table, thedeep easy-chair, the green-shaded lamps, the decanter of wine. He hadinsisted upon a visit, however brief, to the library.
"It is a student's appeal which I make to you, Mr. Hamel," he said,with a whimsical smile. "Here we are in my study, with the door closed,secure against interruption, a bright fire in the grate, a bowling andever-increasing wind outside. Let us go together over the ground of yourlast wonderful expedition over the Andes. You will find that I am notaltogether ignorant of your profession, or of those very interestinggeological problems which you spoke of in connection with thatmarvellous railway scheme. We will discuss them side by side assybarites, hang ourselves around with cigarette smoke, drink wine, andpresently coffee. It is necessary, is it not, for many reasons, that webecome better acquainted? You realise that, I am sure, and you will notpersist in returning to your selfish solitude."
Hamel's eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes withwhich the table was covered.
"You must not think me ungrateful or churlish, Mr. Fentolin," he begged."I have a habit of keeping promises which I make to myself, and to-nightI have made myself a promise that I will be back at the Tower by teno'clock."
"You are obdurate?" Mr. Fentolin asked softly.
"I am afraid I am."
Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair.
"Tell me," he insisted, "is there any other person save yourself to whomyou have given this mysterious promise?"
"No one," Hamel replied promptly.
"I am a person very sensitive to atmosphere," Mr. Fentolin continuedslowly. "Since the unfortunate visit of this man Dunster, I seem to havebeen conscious of a certain suspicion, a little cloud of suspicionunder which I seem to live and move, even among the members of my ownhousehold. My sister-in-law is nervous and hysterical; Gerald has beensullen and disobedient; Esther has avoided me. And now--well, I findeven your attitude a little difficult to understand. What does it mean,Mr. Hamel?"
Hamel shook his head.
"I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family," heanswered. "So far as I, personally, am concerned--"
"It pleases me sometimes," Mr. Fentolin interrupted, "to interfere tosome extent in the affairs of the outside world. If I do so, that ismy business. I do it for my own amusement. It is at no time a seriousposition which I take up. Have I by any chance, Mr. Hamel, become anobject of suspicion to you?"
"There are matters in which you are concerned," Hamel admitted, "which Ido not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them."
Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now betweenthe door and Hamel.
"Weaker mortals than I, Mr. Hamel," he said calmly, "have wieldedbefore now the powers of life and death. From my chair I can make thelightnings bite. Science has done away with the triumph of muscularity.Even as we are here together at this moment, Mr. Hamel, if we shoulddisagree, it is I who am the preordained victor."
Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was the end, then, of all doubt!He remained silent.
"Suspicions which are, in a sense, absurd," Mr. Fentolin continued,"have grown until I find them obtrusive and obnoxious. What have I to dowith Mr. John P. Dunster? I sent him out from my house. If he is lost orill, the affair is not mine. Yet one by one those around me are fallingaway. I told you an hour ago that Gerald was at Brancaster. It is a lie.He has left this house, but no soul in it knows his destination."
Hamel started.
"You mean that he has run away?"
Mr. Fentolin nodded.
"All that I can surmise is that he has followed Dunster," he proceeded."He has an idea that in some way I robbed or injured the man. He hasbroken the bond of relationship between us. He has broken his solemnvow. He has run a grave and terrible risk."
"What of Miss Esther?" Hamel asked quickly.
"I have sent her away," Mr. Fentolin replied, "until we come to a clearunderstanding, you and I. You seem to be a harmless enough person, Mr.Hamel but appearances are sometimes deceptive. It has been suggested tome that you are a spy."
"By whom?" Hamel demanded.
"By those in whom I trust," Mr. Fentolin told him sternly. "You area friend of Reginald Kinsley. You met him in Norwich the otherday--secretly. Kinsley's chief is a member of the Government. He is oneof those who will find eternal obloquy if The Hague Conference comes toa successful termination. For some strange reason, I am supposed to haverobbed or harmed the one man in the world whose message might bring tonought that Conference. Are you here to watch me, Mr. Hamel? Are you oneof those who believe that I am either in the pay of a foreign country,or that my harmless efforts to interest myself in great things areefforts inimical to this country; that I am, in short, a traitor?"
"You must admit that many of your actions are incomprehensible," Hamelreplied slowly. "There are things here which I do not understand--whichcertainly require explanation."
"Still, why do you make them your business?" Mr. Fentolin persisted. "Ifindeed the course which I steer is a harmless one," he continued, witha strange new glitter in his eyes, "then you are an impertinent strangerto whom my doors cannot any longer be open. If you have taken advantageof my hospitality to spy upon me and my actions, if indeed you have amission here, then you can carry it with you down into hell!"
"I understand that you are threatening me?" Hamel murmured.
Mr. Fentolin smiled.
"Scarcely that, my young friend. I am not quite the obvious sort ofvillain who flourishes revolvers and lures his victims into secretchambers. These words to you are simply words of warning. I am not likeother men, neither am I used to being crossed. When I am crossed, Iam dangerous. Leave here, if you will, in safety, and mind your ownaffairs; but if you show one particle of curiosity as to mine, if youinterfere in matters which concern me and me only, remember that you areencircled by powers which are entirely ruthless, absolutely omnipotent.You can walk back to the Tower to-night and remember that there isn't astep you take which might not be your last if I willed it, and never asoul the wiser. There's a very hungry little mother here who takesher victims and holds them tight. You can hear her calling to you now.Listen!"
He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the half-openwindow came the low thunder of the waves.
"You decline to share my evening," Mr. Fentolin concluded. "Let it beso. Go your own way, Hamel, only take care that your way does not crossmine."
He backed his chair slowly and pressed the bell. Hamel felt himselfdismissed. He passed out into the hall. The door of the drawing-roomstood open, and he heard the sound of Mrs. Fentolin's thin voice singingsome little French song. He hesitated and then stepped in. With one handshe beckoned him to her, continuing to play all the time. He steppedover to her side.
"I come to make my adieux," he whispered, with a glance towards thedoor.
"You are leaving, then?" she asked quickly.
He nodded.
"Mr. Fentolin is in a strange humour," she went on, a moment later,after she had struck the final chords of her song. "There are thingsgoing on around us which no one can understand. I think that one of hisschemes has miscarried; he has gone too far. He suspects you; I cannottell you why or how. If only you would go away!"
"What about Esther?" he asked quietly.
"You must leave her," she cried, with a little catch in her throat."Gerald has broken away. Esther and I must carry still the burden."
She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment.
"Mrs. Fentolin," he said, "I have been a good many years making up mymind. Now that I have done so, I do not think that any one will keepEsther from me."
She looked at him a little pitifully, a little wistfully. Then, with ashrug of the shoulders, she turned round to the piano and recommenced toplay. Hamel took his coat and hat from a servant who was waiting in thehall and passed out into the night.
He w
alked briskly until he reached the Tower. The wind had risen, butthere was still enough light to help him on his way. The little buildingwas in complete darkness. He opened the door and stepped into thesitting-room, lit the lamp, and, holding it over his head, went downthe passage and into the kitchen. Then he gave a start. The lamp nearlyslipped from his fingers. Kneeling on the stone floor, in very much thesame attitude as he had found her earlier in the day, Hannah Cox wascrouching patiently by the door which led into the boat-house, herface expressionless, her ear turned towards the crack. She was stilllistening.
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