THE COMPACT
The next evening, as Baron Kolár raised himself on the arm of a valet
into the trap which was to carry him to his meeting with Dr Burton,
Langler remembered that some matters were going forward at Swandale
which demanded his personal managing, and he asked me to go with him.
It was a fine autumn twilight when we set out, a sound of singing
following us from the house and laughter from knots on the lawn, and we
had a very pleasant ride. At Swandale Langler talked with John, with
Jane, saw this and that with his own eyes, the water-cress at the rill
under wire, the patch of reaped corn, for now poppies lay low, over the
fields of the land the corn-shocks were leant together in lots, and all
smelt well of harvest.
Langler wished to return to Goodford on foot, and we were presently
trudging back through Ritching.
That something was on his mind I had felt sure; and this proved to be
so, for as we drew nigh to Ritching church he said: "I have decided,
Arthur, to speak with Dr Burton to-night, since, if this good man runs
his rather rash head into any danger, I do not wish to have to reproach
myself with too shrinking and nice a silence on my part."
"But danger of what nature?" I asked.
"Its nature is unguessable," he answered; "but of the danger itself one
can't, I think, have any doubt. We know, for instance, that Dr Burton is
'_another Max Dees_,' and we know that Max Dees is, for some reason or
other, in durance. Now, of Max Dees we have two further pieces of
knowledge: first, that his imprisonment has features resembling the
disappearance of Robinson; and secondly, that he, like Dr Burton, is a
'union of Becket and Savonarola.' Well, now, with regard to the
vanishing of Robinson, Emily has let fall the view that it was motived
by his 'beauty'; and though this reason for the disappearance of a man
seems even ridiculous, still we have promised ourselves not wholly to
ignore her instincts in this matter. _If_, then, she may somehow be
right, the reason for the disappearance of Max Dees may somehow be found
in the fact that he, too, is 'beautiful'; or it may be found in the
second fact known of him, that he is a 'union of Becket and Savonarola':
we don't know: but we know that he _is_ imprisoned, and that in some
respects he resembles Dr Burton. As to who is the gaoler of Max Dees, I
am really no more in any doubt. The word 'Kolár' fits very well into the
blurred space on the missive brought us by the wren; and the man
himself, you remember, made no effort to blind our eyes when asked about
the matter, even going out of his way to assure us that the other two
Gregors are 'harmless, nice fellows.' What a beast that man is! Yet how
great a strength of soul is his! Imagine, Arthur (if he is, in truth,
the gaoler of Dees), his astonishment at hearing that name on my lips!
How _utter_ at this moment must be his loss to understand by what marvel
_I_ could ever have learned that name. I expected at least to see him
start, to look abashed a little. But no; his eyes rested serenely on my
face: he seemed to be sorry for me, to deplore my indiscretion. Here,
then, is a man mighty in mass and stature, all self-assured, whose will,
whether it be bent upon good or upon ill, is hardly to be withstood.
Such a person is, apart from special considerations, inherently
formidable; but how if this person be found trying to convert another to
enmity against the Church, and at the same time be found striking up a
friendship with a churchman who in certain particulars resembles another
churchman imprisoned in his castle? Certainly, one's mind can't reject a
notion of danger; and it has appeared to me that I ought not to hold my
peace in the matter, in spite of the _outré_ warning of the card which
Baron Kolár has been kind enough to forward me."
We had now arrived before Ritching church, which stands well back from
the village street in a large piece of land--"park" one may call
it--well timbered and dark. The building itself is big, modern, and
ugly--one of those churches with huge roofs, red bricks, red shingles,
which rather suggest the cult of some latter-day Moloch than of the
Carpenter. It is built, however, over some old vaults in which repose
generations of the Hampshire branch of the Bellasis family, once of
Goodford, now extinct.
We got into the grounds by a gateway in a wall of rubble before the
church, and thence, by a path which winds inward through the park some
quarter of a mile towards the vicarage, passed on to the vicarage
garden. The night was now dark, and we found the house in darkness.
"It looks," said Langler in a low voice, "as if the baron's visit to the
doctor has been quite a long one--two hours at the least--for he seems
to be still here, if one may divine by the darkness in this front part,
which, no doubt, the doctor would have lighted on seeing his visitor
through. The baron must have left his trap at the Calf's Head, for I
don't see it here. Let us wait outside, then, a little. The doctor, by
the way, has the good taste to look out from his study window behind
yonder upon a patch of that white vetch which shimmers so bridally in
all shades of twilight. Come softly, and I will show it you."
I tracked his tread through thicket towards the back of the old manse,
till we began to catch sight of a glow of light emanating from a
casement behind, and a moment later Langler whispered me: "There, you
see, is the growth of vetch."
Five feet farther, and from an angle of a lean-to, we could peer through
ivy and rose-bush into a lighted room: in it were Baron Kolár and Dr
Burton, standing. Langler laid hold of my arm, and we stood breathless,
looking.
The two in the room were deep in converse, the rumour of which reached
us, but none of the words.
Presently the baron took his hand from the doctor's shoulder, took up a
book from a table, held it uplifted a minute, kissed it.
He then tendered the book to the doctor, who seemed to us to draw back
rather, and I felt Langler's grasp tighten on my arm, but the baron
seemed to press and reason with the doctor; then the doctor took the
book, lifted it to his lips, kissed it: and at once the hands of the two
men met in a clasp.
Langler whispered into my ear: "but what agreement hath Christ with
Belial? Isn't it written that he who is a friend of the world is the
enemy of God?"