ALF RECEIVES
That evening a deep peace had settled over Dunwater Park. Except for
two people sunning themselves on the terrace, all the inhabitants of
the hospital had gone to the tennis-court or the golf-links or the
river.
"Oh dear," said Isobel, breaking a long silence. "I suppose I ought to
go and finish the day's work before dinner."
"Don't," urged Denis Allen earnestly.
"But duty calls."
"Let it. And if you're as virtuous as all that, please note that it is
your duty to entertain your guests--meaning me. Tell me the--I say,
there's somebody coming across the lawn."
"Help!" Isobel pulled a face. "My pet aversion."
"Of course," grumbled Allen disconsolately, "this _would_ happen the
very first time I've had you to myself." He sat up and regarded the
approaching couple with malevolence. "Which is your--er--friend? Male
or female?"
"Oh, female. The vicar's rather a dear, but his wife...." She gave an
all-expressive gesture, and rose to be polite to her unwelcome guests.
"This is Mr.... Why, do you know each other?" For the vicar and Allen
had fallen into one another's arms.
"Last time we met," explained the reverend gentleman, "I was bowling
for your father's team and this young man was what is technically known
as taking tea off me."
"I remember," said Isobel. "I was scoring and very busy you kept me."
"Well, well, how splendid to see you again, and recovering your
strength, I hope? And what tremendous luck for you falling into the
hands of friends!"
"I should rather think it was," agreed Allen with enthusiasm.
"No luck about it at all," corrected Isobel. "I heard he was in London,
so of course he had to come here." Allen beamed. "I'd have every
one of my friends here if I could only get hold of them," she added
maliciously; Allen's face fell.
"We must organize some cricket for you," went on the vicar. He was
proceeding to enlarge on this congenial topic when his wife brought him
sternly back to the object of his visit.
"Is Sir Edward in?" she asked Miss FitzPeter. "The vicar and I have
called to see him about...." She broke off her sentence in the middle
with a startling suddenness and seemed to be struggling with herself.
Mr. Davies, not knowing what was the matter, but anxious to cover his
wife's confusion, hurled himself into the breach.
"Yes," he corroborated, "we feel that he ought to be told that...." He
got no further. A comical look of mingled fear and suspicion crossed
his face. Isobel and Allen waited for the sentence to be brought to
some conclusion, but in vain.
"Well," replied Isobel, when it was plain that no more was forthcoming,
"I believe dad is in the library. I--I hope nothing awful has
happened--nobody's dead, or anything, are they?"
The vicar looked distressed.
"Oh, no, no. Nothing of that kind at all--not in the least. I just want
to tell him that...."
Again there was an awkward pause. All four were now plainly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry--perhaps I oughtn't to have asked," Isobel apologized at
last. There was just a touch of stiffness in her tone, and poor Mr.
Davies grew more troubled than ever.
"Not in the least," he protested. "Please don't think that. The whole
matter is simply that.... I mean to say, you see, we...."
A strained silence followed.
"Please come in," Isobel said coldly. "I will see if dad is in."
She and her visitors went into the house, leaving Allen lost in
amazement.
In a moment or two Isobel returned.
"Tell me," Allen asked in a melodramatic stage whisper, "have they
confessed?"
"Not a thing. What can have made them behave like that?"
"I thought it was my presence that was worrying them. After all, if
he's murdered his mother-in-law for her lump sugar he'd hardly like to
tell you about it before a comparative stranger."
"Perhaps," suggested Isobel, "they've come to clear up the mystery of
Denmore Manor."
They both laughed. The Manor Mystery had become a family jest at
Dunwater.
"What's the latest about it?"
"The plot thickens," answered Isobel. "My maid was full of rumors at
teatime. Somebody--I couldn't make out who--has been up to the Manor
and seen black men and, oh, every kind of horror. Martin was quite
breathless with emotion when she told me about it."
"I wonder how much there is in it."
"I'd love to go and find out. Really, you know, it's time some sensible
person went. According to the village these people might be cannibals."
"Perhaps they are."
"Well, whatever they are, I frankly own I'm curious about them."
"Why don't you take me as bodyguard and call on them?"
"No excuse."
"Go and ask 'em for a Red Cross subscription. It's about the only house
in the neighborhood you haven't been to."
"D'you mean it?" Isobel asked eagerly.
"Of course I do. I'm as curious as anybody."
"Righto, then I will. To-morrow morning. Don't say a word to any one,
or dad may object. Meet me at the garage at eleven, and we'll sneak
out. You'll have to look after me like anything. Bring a card-case in
one hand and a revolver in the other; then we'll be ready for anything.
Hallo, dad--your visitors didn't keep you long. What did they want?"
Sir Edward came out on to the terrace and dropped into a chair.
"Mad!" he said meditatively. "Quite mad, so far as I can see."
"Who?"
"Both of 'em."
"But what did they want?"
"That's just it. I don't know. They kept on saying that they wanted to
tell me something I ought to know, but not a thing more would they say."
He walked irritably up and down the terrace. Allen and Isobel looked at
each other.
"In the end," said Sir Edward, "I lost my temper. I practically kicked
'em out, and I've no idea now why they came. I'll go and see Davies
to-morrow, to see if he's recovered his sanity."
He paused in his pacing and faced them.
"By the way," he continued, "Malcolm tells me that he hears in the
village that Denmore is full of black men, and done up like a scene
from 'Chu Chin Chow'--what's the matter?"
Both Allen and Isobel had had a sudden fit of helpless laughter.
"_What_ a set of gossips we all are--go on, dad."
"All I was going to say," pointed out her father huffily, "is that
these people are obviously from the East, and if so I shall be glad to
cultivate their acquaintance. You know how interested I am in the East.
Gossip, indeed!"
He shot into the house, still in a very ruffled condition.
Isobel glanced at her watch.
"Heavens," she said, "I must fly. I've a crow to pick with the
War Office over the telephone before dinner. Don't forget--eleven
to-morrow, and don't tell anybody."
Allen decided that he was not likely to tell any one. The mere feeling
that he and Isobel shared a secret was too precious for that. Every
day he fell more deeply in love with her, and every day he felt more
sure that the spoilt beauty of the illustrated papers had never existed
save in the perverted imaginations of unkind people. On the surface,
he and she had slipped easily into the old intimacy they had enjoyed
once before, when Isobel was a small girl, but every now and then some
chance word or look had awakened a hope in Allen that some deeper bond
was being or had been formed between them.
He lay in his chair pondering these and other imaginings with a pleased
and fatuous smile, until the sight of his fellows returning reminded
him that dinner-time was approaching, and he went in and changed from
his flannels into uniform. That evening they played boisterous and
childish games. Isobel, looking more than usually lovely, was in a
mood of irresponsible gayety; and the patients, catching the infection,
became over-excited to such an extent that the sister-in-charge (who
was making as much noise as any one) had to assume an official demeanor
and threaten to stop the revels. To Allen Isobel hardly spoke a word
the whole evening; and if she was aware of his presence where he sat
in a big arm-chair in a corner of the hall she gave no sign. When ten
o'clock came and sister was shepherding her unruly flock to bed, Isobel
was not there to say good night. Allen went to bed in a state of acute
misery, convinced that Isobel had done this on purpose (which was the
truth) and because she disliked him (which was not the truth). He lay
awake pondering dismally on the incomprehensibility of women.
He came down to breakfast next morning in a state of anxiety, and found
Isobel in the center of a clamorous mob busy dealing out coffee and
tea, while sister dealt with the porridge queue. On his plate was a
folded note, which he opened. Underneath a skull and cross-bones neatly
executed in red ink was a message:
"Meet me beneath the gnarled oak at eleven. All is prepared.
Be silent and secret. The password is 'coffee-pot'--A
FRIEND."
So all was well, after all!
Allen slipped away to the garage at the appointed time, and found
the little car, with which Isobel was accustomed to terrorize the
countryside, being filled with petrol by an aged chauffeur.
"Who goes there?" demanded the car's owner.
"Coffee-pot," answered Allen, in sepulchral tones.
"Pass friend, and all's well. Jump in, and we'll get away quick."
"Not _too_ quick, please. I'm not in the Flying Corps," pleaded Allen.
But Isobel--who had a wide reputation as a fearsome driver--let in the
clutch with a suddenness which nearly sent Allen out over the back of
the car, and they fled down the drive and disappeared amid the cheers
of the few patients who happened to see them. The car went round the
corner on one wheel at a speed which would have meant certain disaster
had any other traffic chanced to be passing. Allen clutched at the
sides of his seat lest sheer centrifugal force should deposit him head
downwards in a ditch.
"It's all right," said Isobel reassuringly, as they gathered speed on
the straight road.
"I'm glad to hear it," answered Allen. "Tell me when you're going to
take another corner. I'm glad I'm not a nerve case."
The landscape streamed past them for a space, till Isobel slowed down.
"Here we are," she said.
They turned into the Manor drive, and a moment later pulled up before
the house.
"I'm so excited. I feel just like a cinema actress," whispered Isobel.
"So'm I. I've got one hand on my revolver and one on my card-case.
Which d'you suppose will be wanted?"
"Neither. You'll have to use the revolver hand to ring the bell with."
"No, I shan't. Somebody's coming. Get ready to fly for your life....
Why, it's an ordinary butler!"
It was Mustapha who was the cause of Allen's disappointed whisper--a
transformed Mustapha, wearing instead of his gorgeous robes the sober
black of the English serving-man, and looking so villainous that Allen
wondered for one moment whether he ought not to have brought his
revolver in real earnest.
"Er--" said Isobel, "is Mr.--er...."
Mustapha, casting one glance of appraising admiration over her, did not
wait for more. Bowing low to Allen he signified by a sign that they
were to await his return, and disappeared round the angle of the house.
"I--I hope it's all right," whispered Isobel a little nervously.
"We can still escape," Allen pointed out.
"No,--I'm going through with it. But--it _was_ a black man!"
"Very," said Allen. "Probably he'd look less of a villain in his native
dress."
"I hope so, I'm sure."
On a lawn at the south side of the house stood two long chairs above
which the blue smoke from two pipes curled heavenwards. On one lay
Bill, with the faithful Lucy still curled up at his feet; on the
other was the _soi-disant_ Mr. Wentworth. Both had changed from the
ceremonious raiment of the previous day, and now appeared in the
rôle of gentlemen of leisure. Bill was gorgeous in a red-and-black
blazer, white trousers, and brown-and-white canvas shoes; but Alf--as
befitted the lord of the Manor--outshone him by far. He had a straw
hat with a gaudy black-and-yellow ribbon; a Norfolk coat in the
bold black-and-white check; and trousers and shoes like Bill's. A
stiffly-starched collar nestled furtively behind a satin tie of
aggressive color and immutable form. But the crowning glory of the
whole get-up was a strange garment--a cross between a cummerbund and a
dress-waistcoat--which encircled his middle and supported a gold albert
watchchain ornamented with many dangling seals.
By the side of each chair stood an inlaid stool bearing each an
enormous flagon of silver. As Mustapha approached the little group, an
arm appeared from each chair, and the two flagons were simultaneously
lifted, were inverted for a space and were replaced simultaneously on
the stools. Bill's voice spoke ecstatically.
"Bit of all right, eh?"
Alf grunted. Not even his consciousness of sartorial perfection could
cheer him up. He was brooding darkly on the probable results of the
liberty he had taken with the Davies family, and was fast working
himself into a panic. All his experience of Eustace's enchantments
filled him with profound misgivings; and in the circumstances Bill's
soulless and unsympathetic delight in the ephemeral pleasures of the
moment infuriated him.
"Cheer up, mate," said Bill. "What's the matter now? Still off it
because the ole lady told you off? You've stopped _'er_ mouth, any'ow."
"Well, an' even if I 'ave, 'ow much better are we then? We might sit
'ere for a year, an' never get nearer doin' anything than we are now.
'Ow are we goin' to get to know a toff like ole Sir FitzPeter, eh? 'Ow
can we.... 'Ullo, Farr, what is it now?"
"Lord, there standeth at thy door one desiring entrance; and verily he
bringeth with him a maiden possessing the rarest beauty, so that if her
mind and attainments be but of a piece with her fairness of face, not
less than ten thousand pieces of gold would be her price."
Alf gaped at him.
"I don't know what the 'ell you think you're talkin' about, Farr," he
said at length. "But bring 'ooever it is along 'ere."
Mustapha bowed and retreated.
"If there's a lady in the case," said Bill, "Lucy 'ad better cut away.
'Ere! skedaddle, Lucy--quick! You ain't dressed for company."
Lucy departed disconsolately for the house, quite unable to understand
why she was thus dismissed. In her lord's honor she had put on her
most striking finery. She had touched up her eyes with kohl, her
cheeks with carmine and her finger-tips with henna. She was comfortably
conscious of looking her best. Why, then, was she dismissed the
Presence?
"'Ere," called Bill after her, "not that way; you'll run right into
'em.... Lumme, 'ere they come.... Why, Alf--it's 'er--your girl ...
an'--an' Lootenant Allen with 'er. 'E'd know me for sure. I'm off."
And while Isobel and Allen were occupied in gazing speechlessly after
Lucy's disappearing form, Bill beat a panic-stricken and precipitate
retreat into the rose-garden. Alf, unnerved almost as much by the
unlooked-for good fortune which brought Isobel to him as by the
embarrassment of having to face his old platoon-commander, turned to
receive his visitors.
"I hope you will excuse us, Mr...."
"Wentworth," supplied Alf. He was getting used to his new name now.
"Mr. Wentworth, for bursting in upon you in this way. I am Miss
FitzPeter, and this is Mr. Allen." Alf, quaking at the knees, shook
hands with his late commander. He felt, in spite of his clean-shaved
upper lip, that nothing could prevent his detection now; but Allen gave
no sign of recognition. Indeed, he hardly looked at Mr. Wentworth's
face at all in his delighted examination of his clothes.
Isobel, struggling with herself, went straight to the point. Only by
doing this, she felt, could she stifle the demon of laughter within
her; and if she chanced to catch Allen's eye nothing could save her.
"I'm afraid I've come on business, Mr. Wentworth. Worse than that, on
begging business. I'm collecting for a Red Cross hospital which is
being started at Anston. It's such a good object and they do need funds
so badly--and I wondered--would you be so kind--anything will do...."
She concluded with her famous smile which had in another life done
yeoman service to the country at flag-days and bazaars. Alf, whose
obfuscated intellect had been groping wildly for a meaning in her
elliptical remarks, suddenly understood. Here was a chance for a
display of his wealth. Fate was indeed playing into his hands.
"Farr," he said, "go an' get some money."
Mustapha, who had all this while been gazing upon Isobel with lively
and increasing satisfaction, was much pleased to find that this lovely
"slave" had found favor in his master's eyes. He went off joyfully
to the house to obey Alf's command, and in a few moments he returned
followed by six female slaves. Isobel and Allen, whose hopes had been
raised by their glimpse of the polychromatic Lucy, were disappointed to
find that these were clad in sober black, relieved only by the neatest
of caps and aprons. But this only threw into greater prominence their
un-English appearance.
Each of the six carried a bulky bag. Mustapha, coming forward, laid a
cloth upon the ground at Allen's feet, and made a sign to the first
slave. She approached, and having (with much crackling of her apron)
made a deep obeisance, poured out upon the cloth a jingling, flashing
stream of gold coins. Then she bowed once more to the earth and retired.
Allen and Isobel, who for three years or so had seen no gold except
an occasional stray half-sovereign, stared as though hypnotized; but
Alf was the most astonished of the three. Nobody seemed capable of
speaking a word. Mustapha, interpreting their silence to mean that the
sum offered was not large enough, signed to the second slave; and the
glittering heap was forthwith doubled.
"But," said Allen at last, recovering his power of speech with an
effort, "we--we can't take this. You know we can't."
"No, sir," agreed Alf unhappily. "It's all a mistake. 'Ere, Farr, this
won't do, you know."
"Verily, master, if thou didst offer to this merchant all the gold that
is in the six bags, it would not be an over-payment; for verily mine
eyes have not looked upon so fair a slave."
He signed once more, and the four remaining bags were emptied on to the
pile.
"Heavens," said Isobel, suddenly realizing Mustapha's meaning, "he
thinks...."
"Yes, confound him, he does," replied Allen indignantly. "Not much
doubt about the Oriental there!" He glanced angrily at the puzzled
Mustapha. "While as for the question of gold-hoarding...."
Alf caught the last word.
"S'welp me, sir," he said earnestly, "I never knew 'e 'ad it, I swear
I didn't. 'Ere, Farr, where the blue blazes did you get all this coin
from? Don't you know there's a war on?"
"Lord," replied Mustapha with pardonable pride, and not comprehending
in the least what the true position was, "this is but the smallest part
of the riches that lie heaped in thy treasury, the full extent whereof
no man may count. Therefore chaffer not with this merchant, but pay him
that which he asks; for in truth the maid is passing fair. Her lips...."
"That'll be about enough from you," roared Allen with sudden fury.
Mustapha, his eulogy checked in mid-surge, retreated a pace or two in
alarm, while Alf, obeying subconsciously the ring of authority in the
tone, came to attention. Luckily, however, his lapse was not noticed;
and he remembered his status as a country gentleman and put his hands
in his pockets.
"'Ere," he said to Mustapha, who was still unequal to the intellectual
pressure of the conversation, "take that stuff back where it came from.
An' look 'ere, Farr, you got to get every last farthing o' gold in the
place changed into notes right off. An' if I catch any more 'oardin'
goin' on...." He broke off and turned to his guests. "If you'll be so
good, miss and sir, as to step into the 'ouse, I'll 'ave it brought to
you in notes."
"Thank you," said Isobel feebly. She followed Alf into the house with
eager anticipation, but at the same time wondering how much more she
could bear without giving way to hysterics.
Since Mrs. Davies' visit Alf and Bill had done their honest best to
introduce into Eustace's exclusively Oriental scheme a touch of that
"'omeyness" which it had so obviously lacked. As a result, the jeweled
magnificence of the original scheme now served as a back-ground to an
impression of solid mid-Victorian comfort. Plush-covered chairs and
sofas now abounded; so did clumsy and top-heavy side-boards, draped
mirrors and lace curtains. Mats of hot, black fur reënforced the
priceless Persian rugs; a stuffed bird in a glass case stood in each
window; and the walls were covered with a choice selection of colored
"presentation plates" in heavily gilded frames. The whole effect was as
though some rather dissipated roysterer, returning from a fancy dress
ball in the robes of a gorgeous caliph, had protected them from the
weather by the addition of a frock-coat.
Isobel, who had expected a stage setting of the "Chu Chin Chow" order,
was utterly unprepared for the improvements. She sat down suddenly on
the nearest plush monstrosity and looked about her. Her mouth was firm,
but her eyes filled gradually with tears; and she knew that if she
looked at Allen she would disgrace herself.
But now, fortunately for both of them, Alf, full of determination not
to let slip this golden opportunity of impressing his lady, bustled out
of the room to summon the much-enduring Eustace and explain to him the
nature and functions of paper currency. Allen and Isobel, watching his
departure anxiously, just managed to preserve their self-control until
he had gone; but then the floods of laughter burst forth irresistibly.
They wallowed breathlessly, feebly wiping their streaming eyes. After
a time Isobel managed to pull herself partially together and to sit
up; but the sight and sound of Allen, who was at full length on a sofa
gasping like a fish and quaking like a jelly, set her off again. It was
a shameless spectacle.
But by the time Alf came back two weak but happy people were gravely
examining the decorations, and were even far enough recovered to be
able to congratulate their host on his taste without a quiver.
"You have been in the East, I suppose, Mr. Wentworth?" asked Isobel.
"I went to Yarmouth once," said Alf.
"Ah, yes. But I mean the Orient. Egypt--Persia--India."
"Oh!" Alf caught the allusion and began to fidget. The conversation
seemed to be taking an awkward turn. "You mean this 'ere?" he asked,
waving a comprehensive hand about him. "I can't say as I've ever been
in them parts meself like, but them as did the 'ouse up for me comes
from there. I 'ad it brought over regardless. Only they didn't 'ave
much furniture, an' no pictures, so I 'ad to order them meself. That's
a nice thing, now." He pointed to a glaring lithograph depicting a
dog of no known breed being mauled by a small child apparently in the
advanced stages of scarlet fever. It was called "Happy Playmates."
"Always been fond o' that from a boy, I 'ave," he said.
"Very nice," agreed Isobel gravely. "What do you think, Denis?" She
slipped a hand inside his arm and gave it a delighted little squeeze.
"Charming!" His voice shook ever so little, but he had completely
regained control of his expression.
Alf judged that the time had arrived to bring his heavy batteries into
action. He produced from his pockets a little bundle of notes, and
handed them to Isobel.
"There, miss," he said in admirably casual tones, "a little something
for your 'orsepital."
"Thank you _so_ much," said Isobel, smiling at him. "It's _most_ kind
of you. Denis, would you ...?"
She glanced at the packet in her hand, and her voice trailed away in
speechless surprise. Then she offered the notes back to Alf.
"Surely," she gasped, "there's some mistake?"
Alf glowed; when Isobel had taken his "little something" so casually
he had for one moment been afraid that his _coup_ had failed--that in
spite of his increasing confidence in Eustace's powers, he had not been
"wholesale" enough; he was thankful to find that this was not so.
"Quite all right, miss," he said jauntily.
"But--but they are thousand-pound notes! I can't--I really can't
allow...."
Allen opened his eyes wide in astonishment.
"If you please, miss," said Alf earnestly, "I shall be most honored if
you'll 'ang on to--I should say keep--the 'ole lot."
Isobel, looking slightly dazed, went through the notes in her hand.
There were ten notes, each for a thousand pounds. She laid them on the
table beside her.
"Thank you very much indeed, Mr. Wentworth," she said, "but really,
it's quite impossible...."
"I can spare it easy. It's nothing to me, I give you my word. If you'd
just take it to oblige me, like, I shall be much obliged. I shall
really."
"But I don't understand why you should want to do this."
Here was a splendid chance of advancing his cause with a telling
compliment. Bill would have taken it, Alf felt, at once; he himself
simply shuffled his feet and went very red.
"It's just to oblige me," he said shamefacedly. "I'd--I'd like you to
'ave it."
Isobel suddenly realized that this eccentric little man meant the money
to be the token of a personal tribute to herself. She took the topmost
note.
"Mr. Wentworth," she said in a gentle voice, "I couldn't possibly take
all that money from any one. It's far more than the fund is trying to
collect, and there are other things which need money so badly. But I
will take this, and thank you most tremendously."
She put out her hand, and Alf, still very red, grasped it so heartily
that she winced. Then he followed his visitors to the front door. As
Isobel cranked up (declining Allen's proffered help with a stern
reminder that he was an invalid) Alf realized that something still
remained to be done. He must not let Isobel go without arranging for a
future meeting. He must strike while the iron was hot.
"Could you--would you an' yer pa step in some day an' 'ave a bit o'
something to eat?" he blurted out.
"I'm sure he'd be delighted," said she impulsively. The little man's
earnestness had quite melted her for the time being, and she committed
Sir Edward without a thought. "He is so interested in everything
that comes from the East. Come to tea with us on Friday and ask him
yourself."
She nodded, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Alf watched her out of sight, and turned to find Mustapha at his elbow.
"Farr," he said excitedly, "that's the young lady what I'm going to
marry. I'm goin' to 'ave tea with 'er father on Friday. What d'you
think o' that?"
"Lord," said Mustapha, "all shall be prepared."
Alf dashed upstairs to Bill without considering what it was that
Mustapha was going to prepare.
Bill listened unmoved to his friend's narrative.
"Did Lootenant Allen reckernize you?" he asked at the end.
"No more 'n nothin'. Look 'ere, you don't seem to take it in. I'm goin'
round to tea on Friday."
"I 'eard. What did I tell yer?" asked Bill cynically. "It's all a
matter o' money. All you got to do now is pile on the swank for pa
FitzP., an' you'll be 'is dearly beloved son-in-law before we know
where we are. What oh!"
Bill closed his eyes and seemed to indulge in a beatific vision.
Alf did not share his sublime confidence, but even he felt that the
campaign had now made a really auspicious start.
* * * * * * *
When the car was out of sight of the Manor, Allen once more fell a
victim of paroxysms of laughter.
"Go slow, for Heaven's sake," he gasped, "or I shall fall out."
"Stop it!" Isobel commanded sharply. "Stop it at once. I won't have
that poor little man sneered at. I think he's a dear, so there."
"Cupboard love," Allen retorted, wiping his streaming eyes. "He hasn't
given _me_ a million pounds for the Red Cross and he hasn't asked _me_
to dinner, so I'm free to laugh if I want to. Those clothes ... and
that furniture ...! If I'd caught your eye again I should have had a
fit."
Isobel laughed a little herself.
"Who can he be?" she asked. "It's rather dreadful that a common little
uneducated Cockney like that should have all that money, isn't it? And
did you see his friend, who bolted when we arrived?"
"Yes--a shy bird in gorgeous plumage. D'you know, I'm sure I've seen
that chap Wentworth somewhere before, or some one just like him."
"That's funny. I felt just the same. Who can it be?"
"Wait a bit--it's coming to me. Why, of course, I've got it. If he had
a mustache, he'd be the living image of a silly ass in my platoon,
Higgins by name, and so.... I say, what's the matter?"
The car gave a violent double lurch as Isobel momentarily seemed to
lose control of the steering-wheel. Luckily they were traveling very
slowly. Allen leant across her and stopped the car.
"Iso," he said, unconsciously using the affectionate abbreviation for
the first time, "whatever's the matter? Are you ill? You're as white as
a ghost."
She ignored his question.
"Tell me," she said, "had you really a man in your platoon called
Higgins?"
"Yes--but why ...?"
"And is he really like this Wentworth man?"
"Yes. But you can't have seen him."
"Only--only in a dream."
"What!"
"Oh, I know it sounds mad to you; but I had the most dreadful vivid
dream about being at the front. I was being shown round the trenches by
a couple of Tommies--I'd always said I wanted to see them, you know.
I didn't realize ... it was awful.... One of the two Tommies was just
like Mr. Wentworth, and was called Higgins. The other's name was--wait
a bit--oh, yes, Grant. And then _you_ came into it and.... Denis, don't
look like that!"
"Grant?" echoed he hoarsely. "Why, it must have been.... Iso, shall
I tell you what you said to me when I came round the corner of the
trench?"
Her eyes dilated; she caught at his arm and nodded silently.
"You said, 'It must be a dream. If it isn't, I can't bear it!' Was that
it?"
She nodded again. She could not speak. Allen felt a strange dryness
in his throat. He put his arm round Isobel, and she leant against him
trembling.
"Then--then you disappeared. I thought I must have been seeing things,
but--but...."
"It was real," she whispered. "I _knew_ it was, somehow. That's
why I came here to work--that's why I brought you here. Denis--I'm
frightened. What does it all mean?"
"Mean?" repeated Allen. "My darling, you're shaking like a leaf. What
can it mean but--this?"
They kissed.... Years later, it seemed, Isobel caught sight of Allen's
wrist-watch, and came suddenly back to earth.
"We must simply fly," she said. "Thank Heaven there was nobody on the
road to see us. No, Denis, you mustn't. We must get back.... Oh, well,
then...."
They kissed once more, blissfully unconscious that a pair of youthful
but malicious eyes had been drinking in every detail of the scene,
or that when the car had proceeded on its way--hopelessly late for
lunch--Bobby Myers scrambled out of the hedge and scurried hot-foot to
entrust this precious information to the safe keeping of Mrs. Rudd.
By teatime there was not a soul in the entire neighborhood who had not
heard the news, with the exception of the isolated and deeply suspected
inhabitants of Denmore Manor.