THE LOST PAPER
The sound of the opening door did not startle Elsie, because of her
curious feeling that something unusual was going to happen. With a
quick glance at the window she decided not to put out the light. The
thick curtain would probably hide it, and, if not, to darken the
window suddenly would show that some one was watching. Then it struck
her that she had not heard a key being turned or a bolt drawn; but the
door fastenings were carefully oiled. Staffer had had this seen to,
after having had difficulty with his latchkey one night.
Elsie was curious and highly strung, but not alarmed, for there were
no burglars in Annandale. Prompted by the suspicions that had filled
her mind lately, she determined to find out who had come in; so,
slipping quietly out of her room, she pulled her door to softly and
walked to the top of the stairs. The cold draught that came up from
the hall showed that the door was open, and she stopped when she had
gone down a few steps. So far, she had not paused to reflect, but she
recognized now that she had not acted altogether on an unreasoning
impulse. Dick and Staffer were at home; but she did not wish to warn
Staffer, and she felt it might be better if Dick did not go down.
Leaning over the banister, she heard a low voice in the darkness and
it gave her a strange, disturbing thrill. She could catch no words,
but the accent reminded her of Munich. Then a ray of light flickered
about the hall, and Elsie shrank back, her heart beating fast, as the
beam ran up the wall. Some one was using an electric torch. She began
to feel that she was in danger; but the light stopped and streamed
back again, leaving her in the shadow. After that it flashed round and
fell upon two men near the door. They had made no noise, and there was
something startling in the way their figures sprang out of the gloom.
Both were dressed in oilskins and rubber sea-boots.
One was Williamson; the other a stranger, who in spite of his dress,
did not look like a fisherman. He had blue eyes and a stiff, red
mustache; but he vanished as the light traveled past him to rest on
the door of the library, which opened out of the hall. Then, though
Elsie heard no sound, she knew the men had gone in. What was more, she
knew that Staffer carried the torch. This was the most disturbing
thing; and she leaned upon the banister while she tried to think.
She had frankly distrusted Williamson, feeling that he threatened
Dick, and she knew now that she had never really trusted Staffer. He
had treated her well; but she imagined this was for her mother's sake;
and instead of affection she felt a curious, half-instinctive
antagonism for him. After all, she had really not been his guest, but
Dick's; Appleyard, which she had come to love, belonged to the
Johnstones and not to her uncle. She felt that its peace was
threatened; and she determined to find out what the men were doing.
Moving noiselessly, she crept down to the hall, and as she reached it
a faint but steady light streamed out of the library door. This was
not the torch; Staffer had lighted one of the lamps. For a few moments
she stopped and hesitated, trying to master her fears. She knew that
she must not be discovered; though it was not Williamson but her uncle
she dreaded most. This, however, was not all of her trouble: the
stranger's accent had awakened a flood of disturbing memories. She had
been kindly treated in Munich, where she had learned her mother's
native tongue, and the sound of it had stirred strong, deep-rooted
feelings. The man with the red mustache had a look of command, in
spite of his rough clothes. She knew the stamp, for she had seen it on
officers whose wives had, for a time, been her friends. Some were men
she had admired; but now they were her country's enemies.
That was the trouble: one could not belong to two nations, and she was
Scotch. Appleyard was her home, and Dick and Andrew, although not her
kin, were dearer than any one except her mother; yet her mother's
blood was in her veins, and she felt it stirring now. But this must
not be allowed. She was her father's daughter, too, and belonged by
adoption to the Johnstones. She had accepted their traditions, and now
she must side with the men she loved; she felt that they were hers.
Having reached this decision, she realized that she must find a
hiding-place from which she could see into the library. She crept
across the hall, feeling her way to a tall, old clock that stood
against the wall. Its oak case did not project far, but by standing
straight behind it she would be in the gloom, and the half-opened
hall-door would help to conceal her.
Leaning forward from the corner, she found her view commanded the end
of the library table, where Staffer sat beside a shaded lamp, with
some documents spread out in front of him. The men bent over the
table, examining the papers with eager attention.
For a few moments no one spoke, and then the stranger with the red
mustache said something which Elsie did not catch.
"Yes," Staffer returned gruffly, "Rankine is an obstacle, but he
doesn't interfere with my part of the business."
Elsie could not hear what followed; but Williamson and the stranger
spoke in quiet, earnest tones that suggested that what they had to say
was important. Being accustomed to Staffer's voice, she could more
easily catch his remarks. Presently he stopped the stranger with an
impatient movement of his hand.
"No; you must get into the habit of calling him Sanders!"
The man's face was hidden, but Elsie thought his pose stiffened as if
he resented Staffer's tone. This seemed to indicate that he was a man
of rank, which something in his bearing had already hinted.
"Well," he said in English, speaking a trifle louder, "if he is
watched, as he suspects, you may have some trouble in getting his
instructions. To visit him in Edinburgh might lead--"
Elsie could not hear the rest, but she could see Staffer's smile as he
answered:
"We have a suitable messenger." He turned to Williamson. "Nobody would
suspect Dick, and he'd be safe, because he'd have no idea of what he
was doing. He's going up with me in the car to-morrow."
"I'm not sure--" Williamson began; but they had gradually ceased to
lower their voices, and Staffer stopped him with a warning sign.
Elsie caught her breath as Staffer suddenly turned in his chair; but
he was only looking for a map which was buried beneath the other
papers. When he opened it, he spoke quietly, and the others listened
with close attention. At first Elsie could not catch a word; but as
their caution lessened with their intense interest, an occasional word
or phrase reached her.
". . . submarine . . . coast of . . . this line marks . . ."
Staffer's voice dropped to a murmur again; until finally he folded the
papers and handed them to the stranger.
"Now it's up to you," he said, quite distinctly. "You know what will
happen to you if you fail!"
Elsie crouched back as the men straightened up. She knew the interview
was over, but she did not dare risk crossing the hall to the
staircase. A clink of glass reached her; and then she stood straight
against the wall, pressed close against the old clock, for she knew
the men were coming out.
Williamson entered the hall first, and as he pushed the door back the
light touched the clock. Its tall case was shallow, and when
Williamson turned partly round Elsie's heart beat fast. He went on,
however, and the stranger followed, putting the papers Staffer had
given him into a pocket under his oilskin coat. He wore thick woolen
gloves, but perhaps his hands were cold, for an envelope dropped out
at the bottom of the oilskin. It fell a foot or two from where Elsie
stood, and she thought she could not escape discovery if he stooped
to pick it up; but the next moment the library went suddenly dark. The
man passed on, and Staffer flashed on the electric torch as he came
out, but its light did not fall near the corner. He extinguished it
when the men reached the house door, and Elsie stood very still with
tingling nerves.
She had escaped, but the envelope lay on the floor, and she felt that
Appleyard was threatened by some plot in which Dick was to be
involved. Both must be protected; she must get the paper. Its loss
would no doubt embarrass the conspirators, and would probably not be
discovered for some time, but she must be quick. Their footsteps were
almost noiseless, but she heard them go down the steps. Stooping
swiftly, she drew her hand across the floor, found the envelope and
thrust it inside her kimono. Then she darted across to the stairs, and
when she reached the landing she stopped to listen. It was possible
that the stranger might feel if he had all the papers before he left.
No sound reached her, and she breathed a sigh of relief; but she
forgot that the others had moved silently, and a flash of light swept
up the stairs and struck her face. She was dazzled and alarmed; but
with an effort she kept her self-control. It would be dangerous to be
seen trying to steal away, but if she remained, looking down over the
banisters, her presence might be accounted for.
"Who's there?" she asked in a sharp voice.
For a moment or two the light rested on her face, and she was glad to
remember that she would not be expected to look composed.
Staffer laughed as he turned the beam on Williamson.
"Our friend and I," he answered. "I'm sorry we startled you. Perhaps
I'd better get a candle."
He looked cool. That was comforting, for it suggested that he did not
know she had been in the hall; but she thought it wiser to wait a
minute. Staffer struck a match; then he put out the torch and gave the
lighted candle to Williamson.
"If you don't want supper, we may as well go upstairs. The room you
generally use is ready."
Elsie imagined that Williamson had not meant to stay, but he came up
in front of Staffer, carrying the candle. She noted that he wore
rubber knee-boots and that Staffer had only his stockings on his feet.
When they reached the landing, Williamson looked rather keenly at her,
but his face was inscrutable. She could not be sure that he had not
seen her behind the clock; and Staffer's attitude might be intended to
hide some plan for her embarrassment. But she must keep cool.
"I think we could find Mr. Williamson some cold meat if he is hungry,"
she said.
"He'd rather have sleep," Staffer answered. "He meant to stay at
Langholm, so as to get home early to-morrow; but you can never rely on
a motorcycle." He turned to Williamson. "How far did you have to walk
when it broke down?"
"Four or five miles, after I'd spent some time trying to put it
right," Williamson answered, and made his excuses for disturbing them;
but Elsie thought he was taking Staffer's cue, and she knew that they
were both watching her. For all that, she smiled as she replied with
conventional politeness.
"Well," resumed Staffer, "it's getting cold, and I'll look after
Williamson. If you hear a door open another time, you'd better call me
instead of going down." He paused a moment, and there was a slight
change in his tone. "We know your pluck, but I can't allow you to run
a risk."
Elsie turned away with keen relief, and on reaching her room she
locked the door before she took out the envelope. The name
_Thorkelsen_ was written across it. That suggested a Norwegian or a
Dane, and was not what she had expected, but she sat for a time with
the envelope in her hand. She had no doubt that it contained some
dangerous secret. A plausible excuse had been made for Williamson's
visit; but she had noticed his clothes, and deck-boots, which were not
what one generally wore when motor-cycling. Then, why had the man in
oilskins come to Appleyard when he might have expected every one to be
asleep? It looked as if her uncle had a part, and a leading part, in
some plot in which Williamson was engaged; but she could not reason
the matter out. Now that the strain had gone, she suddenly felt limp.
With an effort she roused herself and threw the envelope into the
fire. She could not betray her uncle, to whom she owed much; but he
should not lead Dick into trouble, and Appleyard must not be used by
her country's enemies. The situation, however, was embarrassing, and
she felt that she could not ask Andrew's help. She longed to do so,
because she instinctively turned to him when she was in a difficulty,
and he had never failed her. But it was impossible now. She must wait
and trust to finding some way of baffling the conspirators without
staining the family honor.
At last she went to bed, and presently fell asleep; but she got up
early in the morning and found Dick outside, watching Watson clean the
car.
"Are you going to Edinburgh to-day?" she asked, as they turned back to
the house.
"Yes," said Dick. "A bit of a change is bracing."
"But Andrew and Mr. Whitney are coming back."
"I suppose that means you don't want me to go; can't trust me up in
town?" Dick said lightly.
"It isn't that." Elsie hesitated. "I imagine they want to make some
use of you."
Dick gave her a curious glance.
"I suppose you mean Williamson does?"
"No," said Elsie, with a touch of color in her face; "I mean both."
"Ah!" Dick looked at her keenly for a moment. "You're generally frank,
Elsie; open as the sunshine, in fact; and I'm not clever at hiding
what I think. Suppose you tell me what you really do mean?"
"I can't, Dick; but I want you to be careful in Edinburgh, for my
sake."
"Very well. I'll promise that; and I think I can manage not to let
others see I've had a hint. It's a funny thing, but although I am a
bit of a fool, I really have more sense than people imagine."
Elsie was puzzled by his manner. The hardness in his tone was not like
Dick; but she let the matter drop.
"Who is Rankine? Do you know him?" she asked.
"Yes; he's a friend of Whitney's people, a navy officer. Struck me as
a remarkably good type."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. Somewhere between here and Ireland, surveying for
charts."
"Perhaps Mr. Whitney will bring him to Appleyard when his ship's in
port."
"I'll ask him to, if you like. But I don't know you as a plotter.
What's the scheme?"
"I can't tell you," Elsie answered with a careless smile. "You'll have
to trust me, Dick."
"That's easy," he said in a different tone. "Anybody who knew you well
would trust you with his life."
Elsie gave him a quick, affectionate glance, and they went into the
house.