I BECOME AN EAVESDROPPER
For some seconds he was silent, while I, with a score of conflicting
thoughts in my mind, stood watching him. I had often wondered how I
could bring these two men together, for, while I had but little reason
to believe that they were in any way connected, I was constantly
haunted by the idea that had been born in my mind on the night I had
first met George St. Mabyn. I had imagined that if they could suddenly
be brought together, my suspicions could be tested, and now, as it
seemed to me, by sheer good fortune, my wishes had been gratified; but
they had led to nothing definite.
'Who is that fellow, Luscombe?' he asked presently.
'Don't you remember?' I replied. 'He is the man whom I met at Plymouth
Harbour, the man who had lost his memory.'
'Oh, yes. Funny-looking fellow; he--he almost startled me,' and he
laughed nervously.
'Do you know him? Did you ever see him before?' I asked.
'No, I never saw him before.'
'I thought you looked as though you--you recognized him.'
'No, I never saw him before.'
He spoke quite naturally, and in spite of everything I could not help
being convinced that he and Paul Edgecumbe had met for the first time.
'Have you heard from Devonshire lately?'
'No,' I replied.
'Then you don't know the news?'
'What news?' I asked eagerly.
'Miss Blackwater and I are engaged.'
'Congratulations,' I said; 'you'll be the envy of all the marriageable
men in Devonshire.'
'Shan't I just! Yes, I'm the happiest man in the British Army, and
that's saying a great deal.'
'I suppose it is publicly announced?' I said.
'No, not yet. Norah wants to wait a bit. I would like to have got
married before I came out this time, but--but there's no understanding
women. Still, if I live through this business, it'll come off in due
time.'
'Where do you hang out, exactly?' I asked.
'At a village about two miles up the line. You can't miss the house I
am billeted in; it's the first decent house on your right-hand side, at
the entrance to the place. Springfield is with me. We are a bit quiet
just now, but there'll be gay doings in a week or so. You must look me
up, Luscombe, when you have a few hours to spare. By the way, you
remember that Miss Bolivick you saw at the Granville's? She's out here
in France somewhere.'
'What, nursing?'
'Yes, I suppose so.'
'A remarkably fine girl,' I ventured; 'if I am a judge of character,
she's capable of doing anything.'
'Is she? Lorna and I never hit it off somehow. She was great pals
with my brother Maurice, although she was only a kid at the time.
She--she didn't congratulate me on my engagement. You'll be sure to
look me up down at St. Pinto, won't you, Luscombe?'
When he had gone, I sat a long time thinking. It is true I no longer
believed that Paul Edgecumbe could be his brother; but it set me
wondering more than ever as to who Edgecumbe could be. I wondered if
the poor fellow's memory would ever come back, and if the dark veil
which hid his past life would be removed.
Before going out, I scribbled a line to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of
my meeting with Edgecumbe, and of the wonderful way he had helped me to
escape from the German trenches. It was true that, according to St.
Mabyn, she was in France, but I imagined that her letters would be
forwarded to her.
After that, several days elapsed before I had opportunity to pay my
promised visit to St. George Mabyn. It was a case of every man to the
wheel, for we were making huge preparations for the great Somme push
which took place immediately afterwards. Still, I did at length find
time to go, and one evening I started to walk there just as the day was
beginning to die. It had been very hot and sultry, I remember, and I
was very tired.
St. Pinto was well behind the lines, but I could hear the booming of
the big guns away in the distance. I had no difficulty in finding the
house where St. Mabyn was billeted, for, as he said, it was the first
house of importance that I came across on the outskirts of the village.
I was disappointed, however, in finding that neither he nor Springfield
was in. I could not complain of this, as I had not sent word that I
was coming. But being tired, and having decided to walk, I did not
relish the thought of my tramp back, especially as I had not taken the
trouble to change my heavy field boots.
Not a breath of wind blew, and the air was heavy and turgid. On my way
back, I had to pass a little copse which lay in a dell, and having
noticed a little stream of water, I climbed over the fence in order to
get a drink. Then, feeling deadly tired, I stretched myself at full
length on the undergrowth, and determined to rest for an hour before
completing my journey.
I think I must have fallen asleep, for presently I suddenly realized
that it was quite dark, and that everything had become wonderfully
still. The guns no longer boomed, and it might seem as though the
conflicting armies had agreed upon a truce. I imagine that even then I
was scarcely awake, for I had little consciousness of anything save a
kind of dreamy restfulness, and the thought that I needn't hurry back.
Suddenly, however, I was wholly awake, for I heard voices close by, and
I judged that some one was standing close to where I was. I was about
to get up, and make my way back to my billet, but I remained quite
still. I was arrested by a word, and that word was 'Edgecumbe.'
I did not realize that I was playing the part of an eaves-dropper, and
even if I had, I doubt if I should have made my presence known.
Anything to do with Edgecumbe had a strong interest for me.
The murmur of voices continued for some seconds without my being able
to detect another word. Then some one said distinctly:
'You say he has been down at our place to-night?'
'Yes,' was the reply, and I recognized St. Mabyn's voice; 'he called
about an hour before I got back.'
'What did he come for?' It was Springfield who spoke.
'Oh, that's all right. I asked him to look us up, and I expect that
he, being off duty, came down to smoke a pipe with us.'
'I don't like the fellow.'
'Neither do I.'
Again there was low murmuring for several seconds, not a word of which
reached me. Then I heard Springfield say: 'I shan't sleep soundly till
I'm sure.'
'You weren't convinced, then?'
'I didn't see him plainly,' was Springfield's reply. 'You see, I had
no business there, and we can't afford to arouse suspicions.'
'I tell you, Springfield,' and George St. Mabyn spoke as though he were
much perturbed, 'I don't like it. I was a fool to listen to you in the
first place. If you hadn't told me you were certain about it, and
that----'
'Come that won't do, George. We are both in it together; if I have
benefited, so have you, and neither of us can afford to have the affair
spoilt now. You are squire, and I am your friend, and you are going to
remain squire, whatever turns up, unless,' he added with a laugh, 'you
are potted in this show.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'I mean that if it is he, he must never go back to England alive. It
wouldn't do, my dear fellow.'
'But he remembers nothing. He doesn't even know his own name. He
doesn't know where he came from; he doesn't know what he did.'
'Yes, but if it is he, what would happen, if his memory suddenly came
back? Where should we be then? It won't bear thinking about!'
'But he knows nothing. Besides, who would take his word?'
'Are you sure Luscombe has no suspicions?' and Springfield asked the
question sharply.
'How can he have? and yet--oh hang it all, Springfield, it hangs like a
millstone round one's neck! But mind you, I am going to have no foul
play.'
Springfield gave an unpleasant laugh. 'Foul play, my son?' he said,
'we are both too deep in this business to stick at trifles. You can't
afford it, neither can I.'
A few seconds later, I heard them trudging back towards St. Pinto,
still talking eagerly.
I lay on the thick undergrowth for some minutes without moving. The
scraps of conversation which I had heard, and which I have set down
here, gave me enough food for reflection for a long time. I was not
yet quite clear as to the purport of it all, but I was clear that
villainy was on foot, and that not only was Paul Edgecumbe's life in
danger, but my own as well, and if the truth must be told, I feared
Springfield's threat more than I feared the danger which I had to meet
every day as a soldier at the front in war time.
The next day I received the following note:--
'MY DEAR LUSCOMBE,--
'I was awfully disappointed to learn, on my return to-night, that you
had looked us up in our show here, and had not found us. Why didn't
you, like a decent chap, let us know you were coming? We would then
have made it a point to be in. Springfield was even more disappointed
than I at our absence. Can't you come over on Thursday night and have
a bit of grub with us? We will both make it a point to have the entire
evening at liberty, always supposing that the Boches don't pay us
special attention. Let me have a line by bearer.
'Yours, with the best of regards
'GEORGE ST. MABYN.'
'Yes,' I reflected, 'I will go. But I'll have another talk with
Edgecumbe first.'