"Wehad excellent sport across at Whitewater."
"I had letters to write," I pleaded. "I'll go with you to-morrow."
"Tibbie promised to come out to lunch, but didn't turn up," he remarked,folding his arms, a habit of his when conversing.
"No. She went out to make a call, I think. She said she had some oldpeople to visit down in the village. She came in half-an-hour beforeyou did," and then at that moment Adams, the white-headed old butler,announced that dinner was served.
It was a gay party who assembled in the fine old dining-room panelledfrom floor to ceiling, with the great hearth, the high old Tudormantelpiece and the white ornamented ceiling with the gilded armorialbearings of the Scarcliffs in the centre. In all we were eleven,including old Lady Scarcliff herself, who, seated at the head of herson's table, had Eric and Ellice on either hand. My seat was betweenLady Wydcombe and a fair-haired, rather pretty young girl named HildaTracey, and although the meal was a pleasant one, I noticed that neveronce did Tibbie address the man who had proposed to her. Indeed, sherather avoided us both. Once or twice I addressed a question directlyto her, but she replied briefly, and I saw that she regretted thatinvoluntary outburst of a couple of hours before.
The conversation of the men, keen sportsmen all, was mostly regardingthe bag of the day, while the women discussed the forthcoming fancy ballover at Arundel, and made plans for it. Cynthia was a tall, strikingbrunette, a go-ahead woman who entertained lavishly, and whose husband,a thin, fair-haired, fair-moustached man, disapproved of his wife'sgaiety, but said nothing. He was a keen sportsman, who had shot biggame in the Andes and in Somaliland, and who each year gave a good timeto his friends up at his fine grouse-moor in the Highlands. Jack,otherwise the tenth Viscount Scarcliff, was a slim, dark-haired youngfellow of twenty-five, with a small black moustache, of a ratherindolent, easy-going type, who hated town, and whose chief hobbies werespeculating on the Stock Exchange and driving his motor.
Three years ago he had been in London, reading for the Bar, or rathermaking a pretence of reading, when suddenly he found himself possessorof the title and estates with a substantial rent-roll and thewherewithal to lead an easy existence. Therefore he at once cast asideall ideas of the Law and settled down to a country life, which he nowthoroughly enjoyed.
Eric Domville was, however, my intimate friend. Although young--for hewas not more than thirty-five--"Who's Who" recorded to him a long recordof distinguished services as traveller, explorer, Government agent andsoldier, a man who during the past ten years or so had lived a charmedlife in the African forests and in the great burning Sahara. A big,broad-shouldered fellow of that manly, muscular type of Englishman witha hand-grip like iron, a dark, clean-shaven face, bronzed by theSouthern suns, and a long swinging stride, he was essentially a leaderof men, and yet at the same time a most charming companion. We had beenEtonians together, and afterwards at Oxford, but even when he had goneto Africa we had never lost sight of each other, and often on his briefsojourn at home he had been my guest at Bolton Street. To his intrepidcourage the Government were indebted for much geographical knowledge,and considerable prestige in those dark, unknown forest lands beyond theAruwimi, and to his tact with the native tribes the Colonial Office owedcertain important treaties, much to the chagrin of the Belgians. He hadfought and conquered savages, he had been bitten by venomous snakes, andhad been shot in the back by a treacherous slave-trader, yet he stillsurvived, ever and anon turning up in England recounting his thrillingadventures and difficulties, and laughing over them.
And with all he was one of the most modest of men, and never talked ofhimself before strangers.
The evening passed as the evenings at Ryhall usually passed, with musicin the red drawing-room, afterwards a hand at bridge, and billiards andcigars when the ladies had retired. Yet, watching Tibbie as I did allthe evening, I did not fail to notice that her spirits were not nearlyso high as usual. Though she very cleverly sought to conceal it, I sawthat she was nervous and anxious, and that each time Ellice addressedher she shrank from him as though she held him in abhorrence, instead ofhaving decided to accept him as her husband.
She possessed some secret, the knowledge of which held her in fear. Ofthat I became convinced.
We usually retired rather late at Ryhall. With the other men I had beensmoking and gossiping in one of the smaller rooms leading from thebilliard-room, a panelled apartment known as Dame Grace's Room, and attwo o'clock in the morning, Jack and his guests having taken theircandles, I found myself alone with Eric.
I had just stretched myself yawning in my chair, and remarked that itwas quite time we turned in, when my friend rose, closed the door, andreturned to me, saying in a very low, mysterious voice,--"Wilfrid, I'vebeen waiting all the evening to speak to you, only I couldn't get youalone. They've all gone at last, so we can talk."
"Well," I said, throwing away my cigar, and bending towards him eagerly."What is it, old fellow? Something serious, I know, from your manner."For I saw that his good-humoured face was now pale and troubled.
"Yes. It is serious--very serious," he said in a hard, low voice. "Itconcerns Sybil--your friend."
"What about her?" I exclaimed, in quick surprise.
"I've learnt something to-day--something that utterly amazes me. I feelthat it can't be true. Therefore, I'm bound to confide in you, as youare her friend as well as mine. We must act together."
"Tell me," I said anxiously, "what have you heard? Some foolish storyconcerning her, of course."
"Well. I know that I may rely on your secrecy, so I'll relate the wholefacts. About three o'clock this afternoon I left the others to try theturnips around Charlton Wood, and while walking on the edge of thethickets that fringe the forest I thought I heard voices. I have aquick ear for sound, you know. Well, wondering who might be there, Iresorted to an old trick taught me by the African natives, and leavingmy gun, crept in through the undergrowth without stirring a leaf until Iwas close to the strangers. Then parting the branches I saw to my utteramazement, Tibbie standing there with a man--a tallish fellow in a darksuit."
"Tibbie!" I gasped. "With a man--in the wood?"
"Yes," said my friend. "And mere. I overheard some of theirconversation. The fellow looked to me like some farmer's lout, yet hespoke with an air of refinement--he spoke to her, Wilfrid--as herlover!"
"Her lover!" I echoed, bewildered. Then the strange rumour I had heardhad actually some foundation! The Honourable Sybil Burnet, one of thesmartest women in London, was in the habit of meeting a lover in secret.I held my breath, utterly confounded.
"Well," I asked, stunned by the revelation, "and what else--what elsedid you see?"
"Imagine my utter surprise, my dear old chap, to witness Tibbie--our ownTibbie--allowing the fellow to kiss her! And yet she did, withoutrepelling him. She stood and heard him to the end. He told her that heloved her and that he intended to marry her, whatever the world mightsay. `You are mine, Miss Sybil--mine--mine!' he kept on repeating,while she stood, allowing him to take her in his arms, and kiss herpassionately. Who the fellow is I don't know. I'm only certain thatfor some reason she's in deadly fear of him."
"Why?" I asked, eagerly.
"Because a lady would surely never allow herself to be caressed by sucha rank outsider. Why, my dear old chap, he seemed to be a mere shabbywayfarer with down-at-heel boots, and an old dusty suit. At last, aftera quarter of an hour, during which time I learned that he had loved herin secret for two years, she suddenly pushed him from her, and spokequite seriously, saying, `All this is entirely useless, my dear Charles.I may as well tell you the truth at once, and end this folly for ever.I am engaged to Mr Winsloe!' In an instant the fellow's affectionturned to an ungovernable fury. He raved and threatened, declaring thatshe was his, and no one else's, and that she should never marry Winsloe.At all this, however, Tibbie only laughed defiantly, apparentlytreating his words as mere empty threats, until of a sudden he took herroughly by the shoulders, and glaring
into her face said, `Sybil! Youwill marry me, or I will tell the world the truth! You know what Imean. I'm not to be trifled with. Decide.' Then occurred a terriblescene between them. She openly accused him of attempting to blackmailher, while he, on his part, reiterated his love, declaring that while helived she should never marry another. I would have gone forward toprotect her, but how could I? By so doing I should only haveacknowledged myself as a mean eavesdropper. Therefore, overhearing thatwhich I had no desire to hear, I turned and crept back into the field asnoiselessly as I came. Then," and he lowered his voice, and speakingslowly, "then five minutes later, as I was making my way back to theparty I heard a shot from the wood--a
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