CHAPTER I

E-text prepared by MRK

THE BETRAYAL

by

E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

1904

CONTENTS

I THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

II GOOD SAMARITANS

III THE CRY IN THE NIGHT

IV MISS MOYAT'S PROMISE

V THE GRACIOUSNESS OF THE DUKE

VI LADY ANGELA GIVES ME SOME ADVICE

VII COLONEL RAY'S RING

VIII A WONDERFUL OFFER

IX TREACHERY

X AN EXPRESSION OF CONFIDENCE

XI HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

XII AN ACCIDENT

XIII A BRIBE

XIV A RELUCTANT APOLOGY

XV TWO FAIR CALLERS

XVI LADY ANGELA'S ENGAGEMENT

XVII MORE TREACHERY

XVIII IN WHICH I SPEAK OUT

XIX MRS. SMITH-LESSING

XX TWO TO ONE

XXI LADY ANGELA APPROVES

XXII MISS MOYAT MAKES A SCENE

XXIII MOSTYN RAY EXPLAINS

XXIV LORD BLENAVON'S SURRENDER

XXV MY SECRET

XXVI "NOBLESSE OBLIGE"

XXVII FRIEND OF ENEMY?

XXVIII A WOMAN'S TONGUE

XXIX THE LINK IN THE CHAIN

XXX MOSTYN RAY'S LOVE STORY

XXXI MY FATHER'S LETTER

XXXII A PAINFUL ENCOUNTER

XXXIII THE DUKE'S MESSAGE

XXXIV MYSELF AND MY STEPMOTHER

XXXV ANGELA'S CONFESSION

XXXVI I LOSE MY POST

XXXVII LORD CHELSFORD'S DIPLOMACY

XXXVIII A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY

XXXIX THE TRAITOR

XL THE THEORIES OF A NOVELIST

THE BETRAYAL

CHAPTER I

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

Like a clap of thunder, the north wind, rushing seawards, seemed

suddenly to threaten the ancient little building with destruction. The

window sashes rattled, the beams which supported the roof creaked and

groaned, the oil lamps by which alone the place was lit swung perilously

in their chains. A row of maps designed for the instruction of the

young--the place was a schoolhouse--commenced a devil's dance against

the wall. In the street without we heard the crash of a fallen

chimneypot. My audience of four rose timorously to its feet, and I,

glad of the excuse, folded my notes and stepped from the slightly raised

platform on to the floor.

"I am much obliged to you for coming," I said, "but I think that it is

quite useless to continue, for I can scarcely make you hear, and I am

not at all sure that the place is safe."

I spoke hastily, my one desire being to escape from the scene of my

humiliation unaccosted. One of my little audience, however, was of a

different mind. Rising quickly from one of the back seats, she barred

the way. Her broad comely face was full of mingled contrition and

sympathy.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Ducaine," she exclaimed. "It does seem a cruel

pity, doesn't it?--and such a beautiful lecture! I tried so hard to

persuade dad and the others to come, but you know how they all love

hearing anything about the war, and--"

"My dear Miss Moyat," I interrupted, "I am only sorry that a mistaken

sense of kindness should have brought you here. With one less in the

audience I think I should have ventured to suggest that we all went

round to hear Colonel Ray. I should like to have gone myself

immensely."

Blanche Moyat looked at me doubtfully.

"That's all very well," she declared, "but I think it's jolly mean of

the Duke to bring him down here the very night you were giving your

lecture."

"I do not suppose he knew anything about that," I answered. "In any

case, I can give my lecture again any time, but none of us may ever have

another opportunity of hearing Colonel Ray. Allow me--"

I opened the door, and a storm of sleet and spray stung our faces. Old

Pegg, who had been there to sell and collect tickets, shouted to us.

"Shut the door quick, master, or it'll be blown to smithereens. It's a

real nor'easter, and a bad 'un at that. Why, the missie'll hardly

stand. I'll see to the lights and lock up, Master Ducaine. Better be

getting hoam while thee can, for the creeks'll run full to-night."

Once out in the village street I was spared the embarrassment of

conversation. We had to battle the way step by step. We were drenched

with spray and the driving rain. The wind kept us breathless, mocking

any attempt at speech. We passed the village hall, brilliantly lit; the

shadowy forms of a closely packed crowd of people were dimly visible

through the uncurtained windows. I fancied that my companion's clutch

upon my arm tightened as we hurried past.

We reached a large grey stone house fronting the street. Miss Moyat

laid her hand upon the handle of the door and motioned to me to enter.

I shook my head.

"Not to-night," I shouted. "I am drenched."

She endeavoured to persuade me.

"For a few moments, at any rate," she pleaded. "The others will not be

home yet, and I will make you something hot. Father is expecting you to

supper."

I shook my head and staggered on. At the corner of the street I looked

behind. She was holding on to the door handle, still watching me, her

skirts blowing about her in strange confusion. For a moment I had half

a mind to turn back. The dead loneliness before me seemed imbued with

fresh horrors--the loneliness, my fireless grate and empty larder.

Moyat was at least hospitable. There would be a big fire, plenty to eat

and drink. Then I remembered the man's coarse hints, his unveiled

references to his daughters and his wish to see them settled in life,

his superabundance of whisky and his only half-veiled tone of patronage.

The man was within his rights. He was the rich man of the

neighbourhood, corn dealer, farmer, and horse breeder. I was an unknown

and practically destitute stranger, come from Heaven knew where, and

staying on--because it took a little less to keep body and soul together

here than in the town. But my nerves were all raw that night, and the

thought of John Moyat with his hearty voice and slap on the shoulder was

unbearable. I set my face homewards.

From the village to my cottage stretched a perfectly straight road, with

dykes on either side. No sooner had I passed the last house, and set my

foot upon the road, than I saw strange things. The marshland, which on

the right reached to the sea, was hung here and there with sheets of

mist driven along the ground like clouds before an April tempest. White

flakes of spray, salt and luminous, were dashed into my face. The sea,

indriven up the creeks, swept the road in many places. The cattle,

trembling with fear, had left the marshland, and were coming, lowing,

along the high path which bordered the dyke. And all the time an

undernote of terror, the thunder of the sea rushing in upon the land,

came like a deep monotonous refrain to the roaring of the wind.

Through it all I battled my way, hatless, soaked to the skin, yet

finding a certain wild pleasure in the storm. By the time I had reached

my little dwelling I was exhausted. My hair and clothes were in wild

disorder, my boots were like pulp upon my feet. My remaining strength

was expended in closing the door. The fire was out, the place struck

cold. I staggered towards the easy chair, but the floor seemed suddenly

to heave beneath my feet. I was conscious of the fact that for two days

I had had little to eat, and that my larder was empty. My limbs were

giving way, a mist was before my eyes, and the roar of the sea seemed to

be in my ears, even in my brain. My hands went out like a blind man's,

and I suppose broke my fall. There was rest at least in the

unconsciousness which came down like a black pall upon my senses.

It could only have been a short time before I opened my eyes. Some one

was knocking at the door. Outside I could hear the low panting of a

motor-car, the flashing of brilliant lamps threw a gleam of light across

the floor of my room. Again there came a sharp rapping upon the door.

I raised myself upon my elbow, but I made no attempt at speech. The

motor was the Rowchester Daimler omnibus. What did these people want

with me? I was horribly afraid of being found in such straits. I lay

quite still, and prayed that they might go away.

But my visitor, whoever he was, had apparently no idea of doing anything

of the sort. I heard the latch lifted, and the tall bulky form of a man

filled the threshold. With him came the wind, playing havoc about my

room, sending papers and ornaments flying around in wild confusion. He

closed the door quickly with a little imprecation. I heard the

scratching of a match, saw it carefully shielded in the hollow of the

man's hand. Then it burned clearly, and I knew that I was discovered.

The man was wrapped from head to foot in a huge ulster. He was so tall

that his cap almost brushed my ceiling. I raised myself upon my elbow

and looked at him, looked for the first time at Mostyn Ray. He had the

blackest and the heaviest eyebrows I had ever seen, very piercing eyes,

and a finely shaped mouth, firm even to cruelty. I should have known

him anywhere from the pictures which were filling the newspapers and

magazines. My first impression, I think, was that they had done him but

scanty justice.

As for me, there is no doubt but that I was a pitiful object. Of colour

I had never very much, and my fainting fit could scarcely have improved

matters. My cheeks, I had noticed that morning when shaving, were

hollow, and there were black rims under my eyes. With my disordered

clothing and hair, I must indeed have presented a strange appearance as

I struggled to gain my feet.

He looked at me, as well he might, in amazement.

"I would ask you," he said, "to excuse my unceremonious entrance, but

that it seems to have been providential. You have met with an accident,

I am afraid. Allow me."

He helped me to stagger to my feet, and pushed me gently into the easy

chair. The match burnt out, and he quietly struck another and looked

around the room for a candle or lamp. It was a vain search, for I had

neither.

"I am afraid," I said, "that I am out of candles--and oil. I got a

little overtired walking here, and my foot slipped in the dark. Did I

understand that you wished to see me?"

"I did," he answered gravely. "My name is Mostyn Ray--but I think that

we had better have some light. I am going to get one of the motor

lamps."

"If you could call--in the morning," I began desperately, but he had

already opened and closed the door. I looked around my room, and I

could have sobbed with mortification. The omnibus was lit inside as

well as out, and I knew very well who was there. Already he was talking

with the occupants. I saw a girl lean forward and listen to him. Then

my worst fears were verified. I saw her descend, and they both stood

for a moment by the side of the man who was tugging at one of the huge

lamps. I closed my eyes in despair.

Once more the wind swept into my room, the door was quickly opened and

closed. A man-servant in his long coat, and cockaded hat tied round his

head with a piece of string, set down the lamp upon my table. Behind,

the girl and Mostyn Ray were talking.

"The man had better stop," he whispered. "There is the fire to be

made."

For the first time I heard her voice, very slow and soft, almost

languid, yet very pleasant to listen to.

"No!" she said firmly. "It will look so much like taking him by storm.

I can assure you that I am by no means a helpless person."

"And I," he answered, "am a campaigner."

"Get back as quickly as you can, Richards," she directed, "and get the

things I told you from Mrs. Brown. Jean must bring you back in the

motor."

Once more the door opened and shut. I heard the swish of her skirts as

she came over towards me.

"Poor fellow!" she murmured. "I'm afraid that he is very ill."

I opened my eyes and made an attempt to rise. She laid her hand upon my

shoulder and smiled,

"Please don't move," she said, "and do forgive us for this intrusion.

Colonel Ray wanted to call and apologize about this evening, and I am so

glad that he did. We are going to take no end of liberties, but you

must remember that we are neighbours, and therefore have privileges."

What could I say in answer to such a speech as this? As a matter of

fact speech of any sort was denied me; a great sob had stuck in my

throat. They did what was kindest. They left me alone.

I heard them rummaging about in my back room, and soon I heard the

chopping of sticks. Presently I heard the crackling of flames, and I

knew that a fire had been lit. A dreamy partial unconsciousness

destitute of all pain, and not in itself unpleasant, stole over me. I

felt my boots cut from my feet. I was gently lifted up. Some of my

outer garments were removed. Every now and then I heard their voices, I

heard her shocked exclamation as she examined my larder, I heard the

words "starvation," "exhaustion," scarcely applying them to myself.

Then I heard her call to him softly. She was standing by my bookcase.

"Do you see this?" she murmured. "'Guy Ducaine, Magdalen,' and the

college coat of arms. They must belong to him, for that is his name."

I did not hear his answer, but directly afterwards a little exclamation

escaped him.

"By Jove, what luck! I have my flask with me, after all. Is there a

spoon there, Lady Angela?"

She brought him one directly. He stooped down, and I felt the metal

strike my teeth. The brandy seemed to set all my blood flowing once

more warmly in my veins. The heat of the fire, too, was delicious.

And then the strangest thing of all happened. I opened my eyes. My

chair was drawn sideways to the fire and immediately facing the window.

The first thing that I saw was this. Pressed against it, peering into

the room, was the white face of a man, an entire stranger to me.