bravely. Then she turned away as if the conversation were ended, and
Charlock sought to detain her no longer. There was that in his silence,
a suggestion of delicacy of feeling, for which the girl was grateful.
She shook hands with him by the lodge gate, and the favourable
impression he had created in her mind was not lessened by the absence on
his part of any suggestion that they should meet again.
But all thoughts of Charlock faded from the girl's mind when she reached
home and saw how pale and worried Mrs. Rent was. The doctor was coming
down the stairs and was urging his patient's mother to rest for an hour
or so. Ethel cordially supported this suggestion.
"I ought to have been back before," she said contritely. "Oh, surely
you can leave Arnold to me for a little while. It isn't the first time
that I have had him in my care."
With obvious reluctance Mrs. Rent gave way. There was little or nothing
to do, for the patient was sitting in his armchair, with his head in his
hands as usual, pondering the problem which occupied his mind to the
exclusion of everything else. He made no reply to Ethel's question as to
how he felt. The girl picked up a book and gradually became interested
in the story. She was roused presently by a loud exclamation on the
part of the patient. He was standing upright, his eyes gleaming, a
peculiar fixed smile on his face. He crossed the room with rapid
strides and proceeded to open a cupboard door with a key which he took
from his pocket. Somewhat alarmed, Ethel watched him with dazed
astonishment. She saw he held in his hand a mass of india-rubber
bandages and something that looked like a pair of gloves. From the
expression of his eyes and the way he looked over her head he seemed to
be oblivious of her presence. Yet he held the gloves out towards her.
"Come along," he said hoarsely. "Thank Heaven, I recollect it at last.
But we have not a moment to lose, for the secret might be discovered at
any moment. Why are you standing there staring? Why don't you do what I
tell you? You have been drinking again."
Ethel sprang to the wall and rang the bell. At the same moment Rent
dropped his burden on the floor and once more lapsed into the old sullen
state of mind.
*CHAPTER XXXIV*
*A BLACK SUSPICION*
There was no occasion for Ethel Hargrave to be afraid. There had been
no suggestion of violence on the part of her patient, but yet, in some
unaccountable way, she felt her heart sinking and her nerves throbbing
as if the shadow of a great disgrace was hanging over her. She had
ceased to care for Arnold Rent; indeed, she was almost grateful to him
for showing her that she had made a mistake in her estimate of his
character. All these years she had lived so quiet a life, she had seen
so few men, that she had come to regard Arnold Rent as typical of what
was best in his sex. In this she had been encouraged by Mrs. Rent's
pride and delight in the progress of her son. Ethel thought she was
fortunate above women, inasmuch as she would some day become the wife of
Arnold Rent. The whole thing had been a tacit understanding, and at
first when disillusion came the pain had been smart and keen.
But this was due to wounded vanity, though Ethel did not know it. It
was her first contact with the meaner side of human nature and it left
its mark. Despite the fact that Ethel had lived so long alone, she had
read a great deal and knew much of the world and its ways. It did not
need anyone to teach her that Arnold Rent had behaved foolishly in the
matter of Mrs. Charlock, and since then one or two little things had
opened Ethel's eyes.
She was glad the disclosure had come before it was too late. She could
only regard Arnold Rent in the light of a friend, and found herself
contrasting him with John Charlock, much to his detriment.
And now she could not rid herself of the idea that there was something
more than mere hallucination here. The blow which Rent had received
would be hardly accountable for his acting in this fashion.
Undoubtedly, the man had something desperate on his mind. He had every
appearance of it in the uneasy, haunted expression of his face and the
gleam of his eyes. Something was fearfully wrong, and Ethel felt her
heart sink as she watched the moody, disconsolate figure seated in the
chair opposite her. What it was he had to conceal she did not know, nor
could she manage, with all the patience at her command, to find out what
was amiss.
"Is there nothing I can do for you?" she asked.
Rent shook his head sulkily. The mass of matter which he had removed
from the safe lay on the floor, but he took no notice of it. The cloud
had fallen again.
"Don't bother," he said. "It has all gone again. There was something I
had to do and I can't for the life of me think what it was. I had to go
somewhere. There was a little thing----"
He broke off abruptly and smote his forehead passionately with his hand.
Ethel watched him curiously.
"Surely there is some way I can help you," she said.
"No, there isn't. You know nothing about it. Besides, in any case, it
is not a woman's work. Swift will be all right. But, then, you can't
trust Swift, because you never know when he is going to give way to one
of his drunken bouts. The most useful man I know is Malcolm Grey. He
can manage it."
Rent was speaking rationally enough. It was only the uneasy gleam in
his eyes which proved to Ethel that he was still wandering. But she
caught at the suggestion.
"Would you like to see Mr. Grey?" she asked. "I understand that he is
here; he has called to ask about you once or twice. He is staying with
a friend who has a yacht in the harbour."
"That's the idea," Rent said eagerly. "Send for Grey at once. Well,
why don't you go and do it? Why do you sit looking at me in that
extraordinary way?"
Rent's voice was harsh and hard and his face wore an angry look. Ethel
rose from her seat, but before she could leave the room Rent sprang up
and detained her.
"You are not to go," he whispered. "Do you hear me? You are to stay
where you are. What do you mean by making such a suggestion to me? Do
you want to get rid of me? Why, if Grey so much as guessed, I should
never know a moment's peace again."
It was hard to tell what to do in the circumstances, and Ethel could
only regard her companion with astonishment. He dropped back in his
seat and the same sullen silence fell over him. There was nothing to do
but to humour the patient, and, to her great relief, a little later
Ethel saw that he was asleep. She slipped from the room into that of
Mrs. Rent, which adjoined, but that lady lay on her bed without sign or
motion. No doubt she was asleep also. It was with a sensation of
relief that Ethel heard the doctor coming up the stairs presently. As
his quick glance took in the state of affairs, he crept quietly from the
room and beckoned to Ethel to follow him.
"I am glad to see that," he said. "Whatever you do, don't disturb him.
The more sleep he has the better."
"Mrs. Rent is sleeping, too," Ethel said.
"That is right," the doctor murmured. "I am sure she wants it. If we
could only induce a sleep like this on the part of the patient oftener
he would get better much the sooner. It is impossible for him to
recover so long as he keeps on worrying his brain as he does. And now,
at the risk of being impertinent, I am going to ask a personal question.
I understand you have known Mr. Rent for a long time. Is that so?"
"I have known him all my life," Ethel said.
"Then you'll be able to tell me what I want to know. Of course, I
recognise that he is an exceedingly clever man and that he has a very
active and intelligent mind. I am told that he sits up half the night
working out problems and fascinating experiments. These men make the
most difficult patients when there is brain trouble. Tell me, do you
think Mr. Rent has anything weighing heavily on his mind?"
Ethel hesitated. She was startled to find the doctor's train of thought
very like her own. He put the question with a gravity which impressed
her. But he was the doctor in charge of the case and had every right to
the information of which he was in search.
"I am afraid so," she said. "It has been dawning upon me for the last
day or two that there is something very wrong. Arnold Rent seems to be
full of the idea that he has left some task unfinished. He is
dreadfully afraid lest somebody should find out certain information
which his illness prevented him from concealing. It may be that he has
hit upon a new invention--something startling in the way of a discovery.
On the other hand, it may be that he has done something to be ashamed of
and does not want it known. I was going to ask his assistant, Mr.
Swift, about the matter, but Mr. Rent never trusts him with anything of
importance, because the latter has a weakness for drink. I feel pretty
sure that the secret has something to do with a scientific discovery,
because, a few minutes since, your patient was anxious to send for Mr.
Malcolm Grey, a brother scientist. Then he suddenly changed his mind
and told me to do nothing of the kind. I can't make it out at all."
The doctor looked grave.
"It is a most puzzling case," he said. "The best thing to do is to fall
in with every wish the patient expresses. Never mind if he changes his
opinion the next moment; humour him to the top of his bent, and don't
disturb him in any case. The same remark applies to Mrs. Rent. Let the
poor lady have all the rest she can get. I will look in again later."
The time passed slowly. It was growing late, and there was no sign of
Mrs. Rent. Ethel sat in the sick-room waiting the advent of the doctor,
who did not come, though it was now past eleven o'clock. Probably he
had been detained somewhere. But, since Rent was slumbering in his
chair, it did not matter. He moved uneasily in his sleep once or twice,
and Ethel caught the name of Grey on his lips. Unconscious as he was,
his mind was working away at the problem which puzzled him so sorely.
Then Ethel closed her own eyes and for a little while was oblivious to
all that was going on. When she came to herself she heard a clock
striking the half-hour after eleven, so that she knew she had been
asleep some five-and-twenty minutes. She wondered if her patient was
awake, but was surprised to see that he was no longer seated in the
chair. Possibly he had gone back to bed.
But the bed was empty. The door was closed and locked on the inside.
Ethel rubbed her eyes in astonishment. She was not yet conscious of the
full extent of the catastrophe. Then she roused herself with an effort.
She began putting the pieces together in her mind. The door was locked
on the inside, and yet Arnold Rent had vanished. Where had he gone to,
and how had he contrived to obliterate himself? The window was open,
and, as Ethel looked out, she saw it was a short drop to the garden.
Beyond question, Arnold Rent had disappeared in that way. It was the
kind of furtive exit a man with a diseased brain and perturbed mind
would make. His clouded intellect had pointed to secrecy. He had
deemed it prudent not to show himself in the house. But where had he
gone? And why?
For the moment Ethel stood thinking the puzzle out. Then she unlocked
the door and walked quietly into Mrs. Rent's room. The latter still lay
on her bed fast asleep.
*CHAPTER XXXV*
*THE SEARCH*
It was a cruel dilemma for the girl, but her courage and intelligence
returned and she began to see how to act. Nothing was to be gained by
rousing Mrs. Rent. Possibly before she woke Arnold would be found. But
where to look for him, and which way to turn, Ethel did not know.
Perhaps the best thing would be to go at once to Rent's workshop on the
shore. No doubt what was troubling him was in some way connected with
his researches, and it was an obvious inference that he had gone in that
direction. Ethel slipped into a wrap and, without waiting to put on a
hat, walked into the darkness.
She knew which way to go, because the workshop had already been pointed
out to her. She did not mind the dark and lonely journey. She flew
swiftly over the broken ground and gave a gasp of relief when she saw a
light in one of the offices. Her search seemed to be finished almost
before it had begun. Taking her courage in both hands, she opened the
door of the office and walked in.
But she did not, as she had expected, see Rent. The office was not
deserted, for Swift was present. There were strange appliances on the
table, weird-looking apparatus and receptacles which conveyed nothing to
the girl, and over one of these Swift was bending with a critical eye.
In spite of her trouble Ethel saw that his face was deadly pale. She saw
how horribly his features were twitching, and how the pupils of his eyes
were dilated. She had never in her life before been face to face with a
man verging on _delirium tremens_. But she instinctively recoiled,
feeling that something was very wrong. It flashed across her mind how
Arnold Rent had said that Swift was given to prolonged bouts of
drinking. She wondered if the repulsive aspect of his face had anything
to do with the dreadful weakness. The girl was frightened. She knew
there was something akin to danger here. But it was not the time to
hang back, not the time to show the terror which set her trembling from
head to foot. She had to find Rent. She had to forget her own risk.
"I beg your pardon," she said firmly, "but I am looking for Mr. Rent.
Has he been here?"
A queer sort of laugh came from Swift's lips. He pushed his
curious-looking appliances aside and came a pace or two nearer to the
questioner. She stood her ground.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" he said hoarsely, "or is this a vision that I
see before me? Speak again, bright spirit, and let me know that I am
not dreaming. I swear if these delusions only came in this form I would
never willingly be sober again. But you can never tell. Sometimes it is
a swarm of bees, sometimes an army of pink rats, or an array of black
and grinning devils. But in the shape of loveliness like this----"
The speaker paused and his features twitched horribly. Ethel remembered
having read of such cases. The man was on the brink of collapse, though
he had sense enough to know what was going on. His madness might take a
dangerous form. At any rate, it would be perilous to show fear.
"My name is Hargrave," Ethel said. "I live with Mrs. Rent. Mr. Rent
has disappeared and I came to see whether he was here. I am sorry to
intrude----"
"Don't mention it," Swift said. "It is not often that I have a pleasure
so charming as this. And so you have come to look for my master.
Fortunate Arnold Rent, who can command the services of so fair a friend.
I suppose that you and he----"
"Certainly not," Ethel said. The colour flamed painfully into her
cheeks. "Nothing of the kind. I am merely a friend of Mr. Rent's. I am
helping to nurse him and am concerned at his disappearance."
"I beg your pardon," Swift said, with some show of humility. "And I
congratulate you. Don't have anything to do with Arnold Rent. Keep him
at arm's length, for, between ourselves, he is a precious scoundrel, as
a good many people have found out to their cost."
"Has he been here?" Ethel demanded.
"Oh, no, he hasn't. And, what is more, I don't think he is in the least
likely to come. I am sorry to disappoint you. It cuts me to the heart
to see that anxious expression on a fair face. If you want Arnold Rent,
why don't you try John Charlock's place? I know it is late and the
grounds are lonely, but I am giving you good advice."
Swift accompanied this remark with a leer so malicious that Ethel
recoiled in disgust. In spite of the man's muddled brain and besotted
intellect, he had certain information of which Ethel was ignorant. It
would not do to show that he filled her with disgust.
"I am greatly obliged to you," she said. "I will go there at once.
There is no time to be lost."
"No, don't go," Swift pleaded. "Give me your company a little longer.
I am all right if I am not alone. But directly I am by myself those
grinning faces peep at me out of every corner--there, can't you see
them? Don't you notice their ugly heads sticking out of the row of
bottles along that top shelf? Horrible! Horrible! Don't go."
The few last words rose to a wailing cry, which filled Ethel with pity,
frightened as she was. She could stand it no longer, but turned and
made her way to the door. She flew along the passage into the open air,
glancing over her shoulder to see if Swift were following. It was good
to be alone, to feel the fresh breeze blowing on her face, and to know
that she had escaped that danger. For Swift had made no attempt to
follow. She could see his lank shadow crossing and recrossing the
blind. She could hear him singing hideously to himself.
"Poor wretch," she murmured. "Surely, he is more to be pitied than
blamed. And now what am I to do next? I suppose I had better follow
his advice. Fancy being involved in an adventure like this! I should
have smiled at the mere suggestion a month or two ago. Still, my duty
is plain."
It was, indeed, a strange position for a young and unprotected girl.
She found herself presently walking up the avenue to John Charlock's
house, with no definite plan in her mind. What she expected to see and
what she expected to gain it would have been impossible to explain. But
Rent might be wandering in the grounds. It occurred to Ethel in a
fantastic way that his trouble might be connected with the sundial.
Everything seemed to centre round that mysterious monument, and it was
possible that Arnold Rent's state of mind might be due to the tragic
death of Mrs. Charlock. The notion might be illogical and absurd, but
Ethel could not get it out of her mind. She passed round the garden
twice without any sign of the object of her search. Then, half ashamed
of herself and her own simplicity, she turned to leave.
As she passed the house she saw, to her surprise, that a light was
burning in one of the windows upstairs. Perhaps Rent was there.
Possibly in his madness he had elected to call upon John Charlock. Ethel
knew that the latter was camping in the empty house for the present.
Acting on the spur of the moment, she crossed the drive and rang the
bell. Even now she was half inclined to go back, but she forced herself
to remain until a light appeared in the door and Charlock in person
answered the summons. He held a candle, the light of which fell on
Ethel's pale, anxious face. He staggered.
"Miss Hargrave!" he said. "What does this mean?"
"What must you think of me?" Ethel asked unsteadily. "What excuse can I
have for knocking you up at this hour? I can only plead that I am in
trouble."
"You need not say more than that," Charlock murmured. "Now, tell me how
I can help you."
"It is Arnold Rent," Ethel stammered. "He has disappeared from the
house. I was looking after him while his mother was asleep, and I dozed
in my chair. When I came to myself he had vanished. I did not know
what to do or how to act. It seemed to me that my best course was to try
to find him before he was missed. From something he said in his
delirium I fancy he was anxious to see Mr. Grey. Then it struck me that
perhaps he had gone off to his workshop. I went there and saw a man
called Swift. I don't know, but I think he had been drinking, for his
manner was strange and wild. He frightened me terribly. And I was glad
to get away. I should not have come here, only he made a strange remark
to the effect that I could not do better than look for my patient here.
There was such an expression of cunning on Mr. Swift's face that I felt
bound to come. For the last quarter of an hour I have been wandering
about the grounds. Then I saw your light and some irresistible impulse
forced me to ring the bell. I know it is much to ask, but I am sure you
will help me."
"Help you!" Charlock exclaimed. "Of course I will. I will do anything
in my power. Wait a moment till I go in the house and get an overcoat."
*CHAPTER XXXVI*
*AN UNSEEN DANGER*
Somewhat later, Ethel and her companion were walking rapidly along the
road towards the town. During part of the time Charlock had been quiet,
almost taciturn. But now he began to speak more freely.
"I have been thinking the matter over," he explained, "and I think there
is a good deal in what that poor creature, Swift, said. It may come
with a bad grace from me, but I have a shrewd suspicion that Arnold Rent
is no better than he should be. I have heard rumours of certain
statements made by Swift when under the influence of drink, and they
have not impressed me favourably. It is possible that Swift is right
and that Arnold Rent set out to-night to try to find Mr. Grey.
Frequently people, otherwise demented, display a wonderful tenacity of
purpose and clearness of mind when they have a definite object in view.
I know a man hopelessly insane who is one of the best military
tacticians in Europe. Keep him to his hobby and he might lead an army
to victory. But trust him in any other capacity and you will make a
fatal blunder. Now, I propose, late as it is, to go off to Dr. Tanza's
yacht and see whether Arnold Rent has been there."
Ethel expressed her gratitude and waited in the shelter on the quay for
Charlock's return. He came presently, accompanied by Grey, and the
information that the yacht had seen nothing of the missing man.
"I am exceedingly sorry for you, Miss Hargrave," Grey murmured. "It is
plucky of you to have come----"
"Won't you say foolish?" Ethel murmured. "You don't know how ashamed I
feel of myself. It is very thoughtless of me to give you all this
trouble for nothing."
"I beg you won't mention it," Grey said eagerly. "I admire the way you
have behaved beyond measure. I am sure you are fearless, and it is only
consideration for other people that brings you out alone at this time of
night. As you have proved your mettle so clearly, I am not afraid to
speak plainly. You will have to be prepared for an unpleasant shock
before long, and if you have formed a high estimate of Mr. Rent's
character----"
"That illusion has been dispelled lately," Ethel said quietly. "Mr.
Rent is nothing to me except that his mother has been more than kind,
and if you have anything unpleasant to say, I implore you not to
hesitate on my account. Let me know what it is."
"Ah, that I cannot do," Grey went on. "It is a matter of suspicion for
the moment. And now let us see whether we can find your patient. Mr.
Charlock has told me everything which you confided to him, and I am of
opinion that Swift is not far wrong."
"Then we are going back to my house?" Charlock asked.
"That will be best," Grey replied. "Possibly we are on a wild goose
chase, but we ought not to neglect a single chance."
The trio turned in silence and made their way to Charlock's residence.
Charlock invited Ethel to come inside and wait while he and Grey
searched the grounds.
"I would rather come with you," Ethel said. "I have not quite as much
bravery as you give me credit for. I don't think I could stay alone in
this deserted house."
"Oh, nonsense," Charlock said, with a return of his old peremptory
manner. "Really, you must do as you are told. We shall not be very far
away. And after what you have gone through to-night this will be a mere
trifle."
Ethel was about to demur, when she met Charlock's steady glance. There
was something in the look that checked the words on her lips and
summoned her fleeting courage. From the first Charlock had fascinated
her in this way. She seemed to know that she would be compelled to do
almost anything he asked her. And she knew, also, that there was
nothing he would require her to do that would not bear the light of day.
She seemed to be comforted and uplifted, and a smile came to her lips.
"You are arbitrary," she said, "not to say rude. But I will be obedient.
Only don't keep me waiting longer than you can help. I am ashamed to
think that I have given you so much trouble."
Charlock turned upon his heel without reply. He seemed to take it for
granted that Ethel should do exactly as he asked her. Possibly it
gratified his vanity to notice how implicitly she placed herself in his
hands. Charlock produced a couple of candlesticks from a cupboard and
proceeded to light them and place them on the mantelshelf. There was a
solitary chair in the room, upon which he asked Ethel to be seated.
"There," he said. "Try not to worry. We sha'n't be long."