WHEREIN A KING'S MESSENGER IS DESPOILED OF HIS DESPATCHES
Guy had ten minutes to spare as he stepped out of the cab at St.
Pancras Station, and, handing a bag to a porter, made his way leisurely
to the booking office and took a ticket for Lynn. He would have been
easily recognised by any of his acquaintance, for he had made no effort
to disguise himself. Hora professed no liking for physical or material
disguises, contending, indeed, that such were merely the clumsy devices
of incompetence. "The man who anticipates being seen in any affair in
which he is not prepared to meet scrutiny is anticipating failure,"
he was accustomed to declare. "In all other cases," he had told Guy,
"your own identity will be your most certain protection. A bourgeois
reputation for wealth and half a dozen society acquaintances will
provoke apologies from inquisitive persons when a mere hint that you
had dyed your moustache would mean instant arrest." Guy was disposed to
agree with him. He disliked the theatrical, as much as he was enamoured
of the dramatic, aspect of his profession.
Yet on this occasion he had not been long on the platform before he
was betrayed into the wish that for once he had assumed some disguise.
The porter to whom he had entrusted his bag had deposited it in the
corner of a first-class smoking compartment, and Guy strolled along
the waiting train, glancing into each compartment in turn, in order to
locate the messenger who, if Hora's deductions were correct, was to
travel by it. He had made no plans as to the means he was to take to
obtain a knowledge of the despatches. Nor had Hora made any suggestions.
"I leave the matter entirely in your hands, Guy," he had said. "If you
see a favourable opportunity, take it. Opportunity only passes by the
unobservant. Still, such may be lacking, and if none presents itself
do not strive to make one. One failure in our profession is the end
of a career. I don't want to see your career cut short yet. It is a
difficult task you have undertaken, and I shall not be surprised if no
opportunity presents itself. Don't think I shall blame you."
The words were in his mind, as he passed coach after coach, and saw
no one who seemed at all likely to be the messenger bearing the
despatches. He returned to the door of the compartment where his bag
lay. A porter came to the door, glanced in, then opened the door
of the next compartment, and pasted a little label "reserved" on
the window. Guy, standing on the platform, looked at the entrance
a dozen yards distant. He became conscious of a little thrill of
excitement in the thought that Hora's deductions were likely to be
proved accurate. It was the next instant that he wished that he had
concealed his identity. A passenger made his appearance and the moment
their eyes met Guy recognised him, even as he knew he was himself
recognised. It was too late to seek retirement in the train. He stood
still while the newcomer advanced with outstretched hand.
"Guy Hora, if I'm not mistaken, by all that's lucky. Going anywhere on
this train, eh?"
Mechanically Guy took the offered hand. There was no need for him to
attempt to infuse any surprise into his voice. He could only ejaculate
"Captain Marven!"
"Himself," said Marven, "and as much surprised to find a friend here as
you are." He glanced into the compartment where Guy's bag remained.
"Unless you want to sleep undisturbed, I should propose that we travel
together," he remarked.
"If I might intrude," begun Guy hesitatingly.
"Intrude? You don't know how delighted I shall be," said Marven
heartily. He beckoned the porter who stood holding open the door of
the reserved compartment. "Put this gentleman's bag in here," he said.
"Now, jump in," he continued to Guy.
The young man obeyed. The porter closed the door, touched his cap, and
turned away. Captain Marven tossed a bundle of magazines on the seat
and settled himself in a corner. "Better to look upon than magazines is
the face of a friend on a five hours' journey," he said laughingly.
"Much better," replied Guy. His first surprise had been succeeded by
a second much greater. Captain Marven's coat had swung back as he
entered the compartment, and Guy had observed beneath it a despatch
case. It flashed upon him that Captain Marven must be the carrier
of the despatches. There seemed to be something uncanny in Hora's
prescience. Fate had given him the opportunity which the Commandatore
had declared awaited the observant, and it remained for Guy to take
advantage of it. But there was a bitter thought commingled with
the realisation of the fact that the opportunity he desired had been
given to him. This man had seemed so friendly disposed towards him
from the moment they first met. There seemed to Guy to be something
particularly mean in an act of treachery towards him. But he had no
opportunity to brood upon the thought, even had he desired to do so,
and he did not desire to contemplate it. Besides, not to take full
advantage of the opportunity would be treachery to the Commandatore,
who was depending upon his success. Guy put aside his new-born
scruples, and concentrated his attention on the business in hand.
He perceived that he would have to make use of all his faculties if he
were to succeed in his object. The man opposite him would not be easily
cozened. But the effort must be made. He began to turn over in his
brain a variety of plans, while he chatted with his companion.
The whistle sounded, doors banged, the train moved out into the night.
There was no escape now. But how was he to gain possession of the
case in Captain Marven's possession without exciting suspicion? As a
stranger, there would have been greater chance of effecting the coup
by some sudden stratagem. But, positioned as he now found himself, he
was practically helpless unless Marven should sleep. Guy looked up at
the Captain's face. It was an alert face, not the face of a man who
sleeps while on duty. It would be difficult to evade the glance of
those cool, grey eyes, trusting as they seemed. The firm mouth and
the set of the jaw told of a character that would not be amenable to
sudden panic. Captain Marven was obviously a soldier. How could it be
that he was carrying despatches for the Foreign Office? What
if he were mistaken? The thought startled the young man from his
reverie to hear his query answered.
Captain Marven was speaking to him, and he had missed the opening
remark. "It's unusual for me to find one of our own set as companion on
my frequent journeyings," he said, "though, of course, one does run up
against friends, occasionally."
"You travel a lot then?" asked Guy mechanically.
"It is the business of a King's messenger," answered Marven drily.
"I didn't know," remarked Guy in genuine surprise, while the thought
flashed into his mind that the despatches must be important indeed,
since they had not been entrusted to the care of one of the ordinary
officials of the Foreign Office. "I had no idea that you belonged to
that select body."
"Nearly twenty years in the service, my boy," answered Marven.
"If I were a motor-car my mileage would be considered something
extraordinary, but being only a man----"
He ended the comment with a laugh.
Guy echoed it.
"I understood that you were----" He was about to add, "a man about town
like myself," but checked himself. Marven laughed and finished the
sentence. "A good-for-nothing idler like yourself, eh, Hora? No," he
continued. "I was once. Indeed, to my eternal regret, I left the army
when I ought to have been thinking seriously of it as a profession.
But I had everything I asked of life then, and I rather chafed at my
duties. Later"--a shadow passed over his face--"I felt a need to do
something which would keep me away from thoughts which--I wanted some
work with movement in it, and, having plenty of influential friends, I
found myself a superior sort of postman."
Almost the elder man had been betrayed into a confidence. Guy,
realising this, again felt a thrill of distaste for the task he had in
hand. Then he wondered if the thoughts from which the King's messenger
desired to escape were in any way connected with the events which were
responsible for the Commandatore's hatred. After all, this man was the
enemy of his, Guy Hora's father. The enemy through whose actions Lynton
Hora had found himself in conflict with the world. Guy hardened his
heart. Most possibly the genial mask of friendship which Captain Marven
wore was the ordinary disguise of hypocrisy. Guile should be met with
guile.
It was with a manner as frank and a smile as confiding as his own that
Marven found his questions responded to.
Indeed, he was genuinely interested in the young man. He had already
discovered at their first meeting that he was of an intelligence
beyond the ordinary. He had observed that Guy had been strongly
attracted by the niece whom his wife was chaperoning for her first
London season, and he thought that it would be well if he could
know more of her admirer. But, beyond all that, Captain Marven
had observed what Guy's younger eyes had missed. He saw in the
younger man something which reminded him of himself in his own
youthful days. A likeness of feature, of carriage, of manner. The
belief that one day the son, his only child, would be restored
to him had been an abiding one. It had been partly responsible
for his adoption of his present profession. Somewhere his
son was growing into manhood. Any day he might meet him.
He made the most of his wide knowledge of the world to secure the
young man's confidence, and flattered himself that he had succeeded.
He was quite unaware that Guy, though wondering at his curiosity, was
responding to his advances in furtherance of his own objects. Guy
talked freely of his boyhood. He spoke with filial affection of his
father, and of the mother he could just remember, and, as he revealed
the particulars of his parentage, Captain Marven's half-formed hopes
withered, and he told himself that his expectancy had given to the
young man a family likeness which had no existence outside his own
imagination. So the train rushed on through the night, bearing father
and son, sitting face to face, yet unrevealed, and while the son
plotted to rob his father of the despatches which honour bade him guard
with his life, the father looked at him again and again, saddened with
the thought of another hope shattered.
The train sped on, stopping now and again to pick up the mails.
Conversation languished. Guy had decided on his course of action.
He determined to try a plan which if unsuccessful, would leave him
time for a second attempt, a plan, the feasibility of which, he had
frequently discussed with his mentor, Lynton Hora.
He surprised Captain Marven in a yawn. "Getting sleepy?" he asked.
Marven smiled. "I don't sleep to-night until my journey is ended."
"What martyrdom to duty," scoffed Guy. "I am almost inclined to save
you from yourself."
Marven looked at him questioningly.
"By demonstrating the power of hypnotism," explained Guy briefly.
"Oh!" Captain Marven laughed. "I am afraid you would not find me an
amenable subject," he said.
"I don't know," replied Guy. "It is astonishingly easy to induce
hypnotic sleep."
Marven smiled doubtingly. He held the belief that hypnotism was a mere
vulgar device of charlatans to impose upon the gullible. He expounded
his views to Guy at length. The young man, stimulating opposition,
by assertion and counter-assertion, at last declared that if Captain
Marven would only lend himself to the experiment he would speedily
prove to his satisfaction that there was substantial grounds for belief
in the realty of hypnotic force.
Captain Marven, serenely satisfied of his invulnerability and amused at
Guy's obstinacy, professed his willingness to submit to any experiment
Guy might suggest. Guy appeared to hesitate at the prompt acceptance.
He declared that he was unprovided with the necessary materials. Marven
chaffed him, seeing in his reluctance doubt in his own beliefs. Guy
remembered that he had in his handbag a small electric torch with a
reflector attached which might serve the purpose of the mesmeric disc
commonly used. He produced it.
Marven, lounging comfortably in his corner, was bidden to divest
his mind of all thought and gaze intently upon the glowing point
of light. With a keen sense of the absurdity of the proceeding,
the King's messenger conscientiously endeavoured to obey the
instructions given him. Silence reigned in the compartment, for two,
three, four minutes. Then Guy rose from his corner, and stood
over his companion, every nerve quivering with the intensity of his
purpose. He laid his hand lightly on Marven's head.
"You are beginning to feel sleepy," he said.
Marven did not contradict him. Already his brain had wandered far
afield from the thoughts which had employed it when he had first fixed
his gaze on the brilliant point of light. He had forgotten that he was
the subject of an experiment. He was dreaming again, dreaming that his
son was found, and that they were going home together. It was such
a pleasant dream that he would not raise his eyes lest it should be
shattered, as such dreams had always been shattered before. Perhaps he
was feeling sleepy. Well, what of it? Surely there was no reason why he
should not sleep?
"You are feeling very sleepy," said Guy. He was watching Marven's eyes
closely, and observed that their lids drooped heavily.
"You will not keep awake much longer," he said.
The point of light seemed suddenly enlarged. It filled Marven's field
of vision. No, he would not be able to keep awake much longer.
"Yes, I am very sleepy," he replied. The voice was mechanical.
Guy's heart bounded triumphantly. His experiment was succeeding
beyond his wildest anticipations. At the most he had hoped to be able
to gain the opportunity to instil a suggestion into a half-drugged
consciousness, which would facilitate his obtaining possession of the
despatches, but now it seemed that he was on the point of entirely
subjugating his companion's consciousness.
"You must close your eyes," he said.
Marven obeyed.
"Stand up," commanded Guy.
Marven raised himself to his feet, but his eyes remained closed.
"You cannot lift your right arm," said Guy.
Some remnant of will yet remained. The hypnotised man strove to raise
his arm. But the effort was a failure, the arm half-lifted from the
elbow dropped again.
"Sit down and sleep comfortably until I awaken you," commanded Guy.
Marven obeyed. He lay back in his corner. His eyes were closed, his
breathing calm and even. To all appearances he was asleep. Guy seated
himself and gazed at the man opposite. Was his experiment indeed
successful, or was Marven merely shamming with a view of ridiculing
his efforts? He inclined to the former belief, yet the ease with which
Marven had succumbed was in itself suspicious. It would be easy to
apply a test.
Guy rose, and, drawing aside the overcoat which Marven wore,
deliberately unbuckled the strap upon which the despatch case was
slung. The Captain never stirred. He was really asleep. Guy looked
at his watch. In another ten minutes the train would be stopping at
Cambridge. Yes, he had just time to carry out the initial stage of his
plan. From his handbag he produced a mass of stiff modelling clay,
and with it he took two impressions of the seals which secured the
fastenings of the case. Then he placed the case and the impressions in
his own bag. Already he was beginning to enjoy the consciousness of
success.
The train ran into Cambridge railway station. Guy
leaned over to his sleeping companion.
"You must have a cup of coffee if you are to keep awake," he said.
The Captain's eyes opened, but they were dull, unseeing.
The train stopped. Guy alighted and Marven followed him to the
refreshment room. Guy ordered coffee. Marven drank his mechanically.
"We must return," said Guy. "The coffee will not keep you awake long."
The guard was standing at the door when they re-entered their
compartment, and he closed it deferentially. Evidently he was aware of
Captain Marven's identity. Guy was glad that he had taken the risk of
awakening Marven; otherwise the railway official's acquaintance might
have proved troublesome.
The train rolled out again into the night.
"You will sleep again," said Guy soothingly.
The Captain composed himself in his corner, and Guy forgot him. Seconds
only passed before the despatch case was open before him, seals broken,
lock picked, and the papers it contained lying in his hand. He groaned
as he saw the voluminous character of the document. Then his eyes
brightened as he caught sight of the précis of the contents attached. A
fountain pen and paper were at his hand, and a copy of the précis was
soon in his possession. Then watch in hand he read the more lengthy
despatch. Ten minutes had passed since leaving Cambridge and another
ten would bring the train to Ely. He returned the papers to the case.
With deftness, born of much practice, the lock was turned again. With
a spirit lamp the wax of the seals was melted and the seal reimpressed
by aid of the carefully oiled clay impression already hardened
sufficiently for the purpose. With a sigh of satisfaction Guy laid the
case on the seat. But the sigh died away. Looking up he was astounded
to find that Captain Marven had awakened, and was standing erect and
with outstretched hand was pointing to the case.
There came upon Guy the impulse for instant flight. But whither? The
impulse did not remain long in possession of him. He saw that Marven
was striving to speak and could not find words, and at the same moment
he realised that his victim was only partially awakened from the
hypnotic state. Collecting all his faculties for a supreme effort Guy
faced him.
"You cannot stand up," he said. "You cannot awaken for two minutes yet."
The Captain hesitated. He seemed to be fighting against an overpowering
desire. But insistently Guy repeated his commands, and with a
despairing gesture, Marven sank back once again into his corner.
Guy waited no longer. The moment Marven was quiescent, he rebuckled the
case to the strap, and disposed it beneath the Captain's coat. Then
he clapped his hands smartly before the sleeping man's face and cried
loudly, "Wake up, Captain Marven, wake up."
Marven came back gradually from his trance. He rubbed his eyes, he
looked wonderingly about him.
"What have you to say about hypnotism now?" asked Guy.
Captain Marven looked puzzled.
"I--I don't quite understand. Do you mean to say that I have slept?"
The train ran into Ely Station.
"Hullo! Where are we? At Cambridge already?" asked Marven.
Guy laughed. "This is Ely," he answered.
"Ely?" repeated the Captain incredulously.
"Yes, Ely," answered Guy. "Don't you remember stopping at Cambridge and
going with me to the refreshment room for a cup of coffee to keep you
awake?"
"Stopping at Cambridge," repeated Marven more incredulously than before.
"It is a fact," answered Guy, and he added, "I hope you will forgive me
having given you so practical an exposition of the fact that there is
something in hypnotism after all."
Captain Marven did not answer immediately. He seemed to be struggling
for recollection. "I have no remembrance of that, but----" By an
instinctive gesture his hand sought the case beneath his coat. His face
lightened as he felt it there. "I've been dreaming, nevertheless,"
he said. "I seem to remember that something in my charge was in your
possession, and that although I struggled to regain possession of it I
could not do so."
"I suppose it was the last impulse of your will to combat the
effort I was making to gain control of it," remarked Guy, secretly
congratulating himself that he had been in time to prevent Marven's
complete awakening before the case had been returned to him.
"No doubt that is the explanation," replied Marven, rising and throwing
open the carriage door. He stepped on to the platform.
"Are you not going to stretch your legs, Hora?" he asked. "We have
twenty minutes here."
Guy joined him, and they paced the platform together. They
chatted on indifferent topics. Then Captain Marven suddenly sprang a
personal question.
"By the way, Hora," he said, "if it's not impertinent to ask, what
made you choose this infernally slow train to come to this part of the
world?"
Guy had long had a lie prepared.
"Laziness," he answered lightly. "I missed the earlier one which would
have taken me on to Hunstanton, where I have an appointment to-morrow
morning. I found that I should be able to get on from Lynn in time to
keep it, and so here I am. I'm glad I missed the fast train, as it has
happened. I hate travelling alone."
Captain Marven made no reply. Guy could see that he was not satisfied,
but he gave no hint that he had observed anything, and, when the
journey was resumed, he kept up an easy flow of talk until Lynn was
reached.
Then he bade Captain Marven good-bye, and, if the King's Messenger
had any suspicion regarding the companion of his journey, there
was no hint of it conveyed in his parting greeting.