Gerard stood still in a state approaching stupefaction as Miss Davison,
having given him this extraordinary warning, turned quickly away.
He did not know whether she was speaking in the interest of Sir William
Gurdon or in that of the Van Santens, but after a little reflection he
decided that he had better profit by her words, at least to the extent
of ascertaining exactly what the young baronet was going to do, and how
he fared in doing it.
Gerard had, on this occasion, come down by train by himself, instead of
in Arthur Aldington’s car. Full of his resolution, and confirmed in it
by Miss Davison’s manner when he said good-bye, he went down the drive
by himself, and then waited outside the gates for the coming of Sir
William’s motor-car.
Sir William came out a few minutes later, driving his car himself, as
usual. Perceiving Gerard, he stopped, and apparently anxious to have
someone to confide his grievances to once more, he asked him, as Gerard
had expected and hoped, whether he should give him a lift back to town.
Gerard thanked him and took the seat beside Sir William, while the
chauffeur got inside the car. As Gerard expected, the baronet broke out
into fresh denunciation of the Van Santens without delay.
“I don’t believe the one of them is any better than the other, and I
shouldn’t be surprised to hear that they’ve been warned out of New
York. I’m going to make some inquiries about them,” he said.
“Do they know that?” asked Gerard.
“I daresay they do by this time. I’ve made no secret of it since I
found out I’d been cheated,” said the baronet angrily.
“Why didn’t you keep your plans to yourself? If you’re wrong, it’s
rough upon them, but especially upon the ladies of the family, whom you
surely don’t implicate in their brothers’ malpractices--if they are
malpractices.”
“I’m not wrong, I can’t be wrong. And as for the ladies, I don’t accuse
them of having anything to do with their brothers’ tricks, of course,
but one can’t consider those points when one is dealing with rogues.
And if you mean Miss Davison, I can only say I’m surprised to find her
in such dubious company.”
Now Gerard, unfortunately, had been too much used to seeing Rachel in
similar circumstances to be deeply offended by the suggestion. But,
doubtful as he felt concerning the circumstances which had made her
such an intimate friend of the Americans, he was bent on saving her
from the punishment which he knew that they deserved, and which he
hoped that she would contrive to escape.
“Well, if you’re right, you can’t be too cautious in the way you go to
work to bring them to book. You had far better make inquiries yourself
than at once put the matter into other hands,” he suggested.
The baronet shrugged his shoulders. Although he passed for “a bit of a
fool,” he was very tenacious of his purpose when once he had made up
his mind upon any point, and he had thoroughly resolved upon the course
he meant to adopt now. So he said nothing in answer to this, and before
Gerard had decided what to say next, they were both startled by an
explosion, followed by another, and the next moment the tire of one of
the back wheels of the motor-car had burst, and the car itself was on
its side in the ditch by the side of the road.
Sir William was shot right over the wheel and into the hedge on the
other side of the ditch, while Gerard was flung over the wind screen
into the ditch itself.
A minute later he had scrambled out, unhurt but plastered with mud, and
was standing, with the chauffeur by his side, looking at the wrecked
car, while Sir William, who had regained his feet and was on the other
side of the hedge in a stubble-field, was expressing his indignation
and annoyance, and, as might have been expected, ascribing the accident
to the agency of the Van Santens.
“This is no accident,” he said, as he stood, livid with rage, on
the bank, when he had scrambled through the hedge and had joined the
other two. “The back tires were perfectly sound when I left town this
afternoon. They’ve been tampered with by those fellows at the Priory.”
To Gerard this fresh accusation seemed far-fetched and absurd for the
first moment; but when the chauffeur joined his assurances to those
of his master, that the tires had been in perfect order, and moreover
that he had seen one of the gentlemen examining the car, and when, upon
inquiry, it turned out that the gentleman in question was Denver Van
Santen, even Gerard began to think there might have been some foul play.
After a short discussion it was decided that the chauffeur should
remain with the car, and that the two gentlemen should walk on to the
nearest town, which was some two miles away, and make arrangements both
for the digging out of the car and for continuing their journey by rail.
As they walked along, for the most part in silence, along the road,
which was shaded by a row of trees on one side, Gerard fancied he heard
footsteps on the other side of the hedge. In the state of nervous
excitement and suspicion into which he and his companion had both been
thrown by the occurrences of the evening, this incident seemed strange
to Gerard, who imparted his belief that they were being shadowed to Sir
William. Keeping his voice low he suggested that they should make a
dash for the hedge together at the point where he thought he had heard
the footsteps last.
The other agreeing, the two young men made a rush for the hedge,
climbed up the bank with rapid steps, and scrambled through the briars
just in time to see a figure disappearing into a plantation near at
hand. At the suggestion of the baronet, they went in pursuit, and got
so close to the quarry that a few more strides would have brought them
up to him, when suddenly he made a plunge forward, and disappeared from
their sight among the trees of the little wood.
Sir William would have made another dash to secure him, but Gerard held
him back.
“Take care!” he whispered. “Did you see what he had in his hand?”
Sir William drew back with a low cry.
“No,” he whispered back, “but I saw who he was!”
The two men exchanged looks, and then, with one accord, they dropped
the pursuit and regained the road as quickly as possible.
Not until they were a long way from the plantation did they stop and
exchange their thoughts.
“He carried a revolver,” whispered Gerard.
“It was Harry Van Santen,” said Sir William.
After that, both men walked on faster, and said little, until they had
reached a part of the road so open that there was no further need of
caution.
Gerard by this time fully appreciated the value of Miss Davison’s
warning. She had guessed that some attempt would be made upon the
revengeful baronet, and had done her best for him by her quietly
dropped word.
“Now,” said Gerard, when they could talk more freely, “you will
understand the need of caution in dealing with these people. If you had
been alone--”
Sir William nodded.
“It would have been all up with me by this time,” he added grimly.
“Well, you were right, Buckland, one can’t be too careful in dealing
with these people.”
“Will you take my advice _now_,” said Gerard earnestly, “and give up
all idea of going to the police openly? Write to the Van Santens,
say you’ve had a talk with me, and that you are convinced you made a
mistake, and that you are ready to apologize! Tell them that we had an
adventure to-night, that we came across a poacher, and nearly got up
with him, that he took us for keepers and ran with all his might.”
The baronet looked at him quickly.
“Will they believe that?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter if they don’t,” said Gerard. “I want them to think
that you’ve been frightened into holding your tongue. I want you
to keep clear of police-stations to-night, as we shall probably be
shadowed. And I suggest that you should communicate with the police,
if you mean to do so, by letter only. And give a warning that, if a
policeman is sent to see you, he must be in plain clothes.”
Sir William, now thoroughly alarmed, agreed to all these suggestions
without demur, and following the directions given him, took care not to
go near a police-station that night.
Two days later, after having remained indoors all the time, he wrote to
Gerard to tell him to keep away from the Priory, as he had communicated
with the police, and a detective was to be among the guests on the
following Sunday. He said that he had written an apology to Mrs. Van
Santen, and “made it all right with them.” And he ended by a hope that
Gerard would find some means to induce Miss Davison to break off her
connection with these dubious people, at least until the police had
satisfied themselves about them.
Now Gerard dared not write to Miss Davison, for fear of his letter
falling into other hands than hers. All he could do, therefore, was
to go down to the Priory on the following Sunday, in the hope that he
might be able to warn her to get away in time to prevent her being
involved in the catastrophe which was bound to come.
He was very nervous as he approached the Priory, having come by train,
as on the last occasion. He wondered whether Harry Van Santen knew
that he had been recognized, and whether he would find marked changes
to have taken place in the conduct of the establishment since the
sensational charges brought against it on the previous Sunday.
Rather to his surprise, he found everything as usual there. Not even
the ladies, who had been the most frequent among the guests, appeared
to have been frightened away. For on entering the drawing-room where
they were all assembled after luncheon, he at once recognized two or
three faces of ladies who had been there the Sunday before.
If possible, the gayety, which was a feature of the place, was greater
than ever. The Van Santens all greeted him exactly as if nothing had
happened, with the exception of Mrs. Van Santen, who said to him
triumphantly, when he shook hands with her--
“Ah, Mr. Buckland, I’m very pleased to see you again. Have you heard
that your friend Sir William Gurdon has written a long and most
handsome apology for the way he behaved last Sunday? I got it on
Tuesday last, and I at once sent a copy of it to all the ladies and
gentlemen who were here when he made that ill-mannered outbreak. I
couldn’t send you one, because I didn’t know your address. But I’ll
show you the letter itself presently.”
Gerard congratulated her as well as he could, and in the meantime his
eyes roamed about in search of two people: Miss Davison for one; the
detective who was to be among the guests this day, for the other.
Miss Davison he soon discovered. She was the only person there who
appeared to be in the least changed since the previous Sunday. Pale she
always was, but now she was ghastly; while the dark rings under her
eyes told an eloquent tale of sleepless nights, and a peculiar haggard
look about the outline of her face betrayed to his eyes, keen where she
was concerned, the fact that she had been rendered uneasy and unhappy
by the occurrences of the momentous day.
He did not at once approach her: he was particularly anxious not to
seem in a great hurry to speak to her alone, and besides, he felt very
diffident as to her reception of the news he had for her.
Would she take the warning quietly and disappear in time to escape
the general disaster? Or would she betray him, and make use of the
information he had for her in the interests of the Van Santens?
Gerard could not make up his mind on this point; and he was in a state
of great distress as to whether he was about to render her a great
service or to render one to the American swindlers whom he dreaded to
find were her accomplices.
But everything must be risked for her sake. In the meantime he looked
carefully about him, in the hope of discovering among those of the
guests whom he did not know the detective who was to be there on the
information of Sir William.
The task was an easy one. There was only one strange face there,
that of a man with a heavy black mustache who was, Gerard thought,
unmistakably a police officer in disguise.
This fact ascertained, he lost no time in approaching Miss Davison,
and, after the first greetings, said to her in a low voice--
“Don’t look shocked, I beg. I have to warn you that there is a police
detective here to-day. Don’t ask me how I know; but you may depend upon
its being the truth.”
Miss Davison bowed her head in grave silence.
“I was sure of it!” she said in a low voice.