TWO FAIR CALLERS
After three days the house party at Rowchester was somewhat unexpectedly
broken up. Lord Chelsford departed early one morning by special train,
and the Duke himself and the remainder of his guests left for London
later on in the day. I remained behind with three weeks' work, and a
fear which never left me by day or by night. Yet the relief of solitude
after the mysteries of the last few days was in itself a thing to be
thankful for.
For nine days I spoke with no one save Grooton. For an hour every
afternoon, and for rather longer at night, I walked on the cliffs or the
sands. Here on these lonely stretches of empty land I met no one, saw
no living thing save the seagulls. It was almost like a corner of some
forgotten land. These walks, and an occasional few hours' reading, were
my sole recreation.
It was late in the afternoon when I saw a shadow pass my window, and
immediately afterwards there was a timid knock at the door. Grooton had
gone on his daily pilgrimage with letters to the village, so I was
obliged to open it myself. To my surprise it was Blanche Moyat who
stood upon the threshold. She laughed a little nervously.
"I'm no ghost, Mr. Ducaine," she said, "and I shan't bite!"
"Forgive me," I answered. "I was hard at work and your knock startled
me. Please come in."
I ushered her into my sitting-room. She was wearing what I recognized
as her best clothes, and not being entirely at her ease she talked
loudly and rapidly.
"Such a stranger as you are, Mr. Ducaine," she exclaimed. "Fancy, it's
getting on for a month since we any of us saw a sign of you, and I'm
sure never a week used to pass but father'd be looking for you to drop
in. We heard that you were living here all by yourself, and this
morning mother said, perhaps he's ill. We tried to get father to come
up and see, but he's off to Downham market to-day, and goodness knows
when he'd find time if we left it to him. So I thought I'd come and
find out for myself."
"I am quite well, thanks, Miss Moyat," I answered, "but very busy. The
Duke has been giving me some work to do, and he has lent me this
cottage, so that I shall be close at hand. I should have looked you up
the first time I came to Braster, but as a matter of fact I have not
been there since the night of my lecture."
She was nervously playing with the fastening of her umbrella, and it
seemed to me that her silence was purposeful. I ventured some remark
about the weather, which she interrupted ruthlessly.
"It's a mile and a half to our house from here," she said, "not a step
farther. I don't see why you shouldn't have made a purpose journey."
I ignored the reproach in her eyes, as I had every right to do. But I
began to understand the reason of her nervousness and her best clothes,
and I prayed for Grooton's return.
"If I had had an evening to myself," I said, "I should certainly have
paid your father a visit. But as it happens, the Duke has required me
at the house every night while he was here, and he has left me enough
work to do to keep me busy night and day till he comes back."
She looked down upon the floor.
"I had to come and see you," she said in a low tone. "Sometimes I can't
sleep for thinking of it. I feel that I haven't done right."
I knew, of course, what she meant.
"I thought we had talked all that out long ago," I answered, a little
wearily. "You would have been very foolish if you had acted
differently. I don't see how else you could have acted."
"Oh, I don't know," she said. "We were always brought up very
particular--especially about telling the truth."
"Well, you haven't said anything that wasn't the truth," I reminded her.
"Oh, I don't know. I haven't said what I ought to say," she declared.
"It seems all right when you are with me, and talk about it," she
continued slowly, raising her eyes to mine. "It's when I don't see you
for weeks and weeks that it seems to get on my mind, and I get afraid.
I don't understand it, I don't understand it even now."
"Don't understand what?" I repeated.
She looked around. Her air of troubled mystery was only half assumed.
"How that man died!" she whispered.
"I can assure you that I did not kill him, if that is what you mean," I
told her coolly. "The matter is over and done with. I think that you
are very foolish to give it another thought."
She shuddered.
"Men can forget those things easier," she said. "Perhaps he had a wife
and children. Perhaps they are wondering all this time what has become
of him."
"People die away from their homes and families every day, every hour," I
answered. "It is only morbid to brood over one particular example."
"Father would never forgive me if he knew," she murmured, irrelevantly.
"He hates us to do anything underhand."
I heard Grooton return with a sigh of relief.
"You will have some tea," I suggested.
She shook her head and stood up. I did not press her.
"No, I won't," she said. "I am sorry I came. I don't understand you,
Mr. Ducaine. You seem to have changed altogether just these last few
weeks. I can see that you are dying to get rid of me now, but you were
glad enough to see me, or at any rate you pretended to be, once."
My breath was a little taken away. I looked at her in surprise. Her
cheeks were flushed, her voice had shaken with something more like anger
than any form of pathos. I was at a loss how to answer her, and while I
hesitated the interruption which I had been praying for came, though
from a strange quarter. My door was pushed a few inches open, and I
heard Lady Angela's clear young voice.
"Are you there, Mr. Ducaine? May I come in?"
Before I could answer she stood upon the threshold, I saw the delightful
little smile fade from her lips as she looked in. She hesitated, and
seemed for a moment about to retreat.
"Please come in, Lady Angela," I begged, eagerly.
She came slowly forward.
"I must apologize for my abominable country manners," she said, resting
the tips of her fingers for a moment in mine. "I saw your door was not
latched, and it never occurred to me to knock."
"It was not necessary," I assured her. "A front door which does not
boast a knocker or a bell must expect to be taken liberties with. But
it is a great surprise to see you here. I had no idea that any one was
at Rowchester, or expected there, except Lord Blenavon. Has the Duke
returned?"
She shook her head.
"I came down alone," she answered. "I found London dull. Let me see, I
am sure that I know your face, do I not?" she added, turning to Blanche
Moyat with a smile. "You live in Braster, surely?"
"I am Miss Moyat," Blanche answered quietly.
"Of course. Dear me! I ought to have recognized you. We have been
neighbours for a good many years."
"I will wish you good-afternoon, Mr. Ducaine," Blanche said, turning to
me. "Good-afternoon--your Ladyship," she added a little awkwardly.
I opened the door for her.
"I will come down and see your father the first evening I have to
spare," I said. "I hope you will tell him from me that I should have
been before, but for the luxury of having some work to do."
"I will tell him," she said almost inaudibly.
"And thank you very much for coming to inquire after me," I added.
"Good-afternoon."
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Ducaine."
I closed the door. Lady Angela was lounging in my easy chair with a
slight smile upon her lips.
"Two lady callers in one afternoon, Mr. Ducaine," she remarked quietly.
"You will lose your head, I am afraid."
"I can assure you, Lady Angela," I answered, "that there is not the
slightest fear of such a catastrophe."
She sat looking meditatively into the fire, swinging her dogskin gloves
in her hands. She wore a plain pearl grey walking dress and deerstalker
hat with a single quill in it. The severe but immaculate simplicity of
her toilette might have been designed to accentuate the barbarities of
Blanche Moyat's cheap finery.
"I understood that you would be in town for at least three weeks," I
remarked. "I trust that his Grace is well."
"I trust that he is," she answered. "I see nothing of him in London.
He has company meetings and political work every moment of his time. I
do not believe that there is any one who works harder."
"He has, at least," I remarked, "the compensation of success."
"You are wondering, I suppose," she said, looking up at me quickly,
"what has brought me back again so soon."
"I certainly did not expect you," I admitted.
She rose abruptly.
"Come outside," she said, "and I will show you. Bring your hat."
We passed into the March twilight. She led the way down the cliff and
towards the great silent stretch of salt marshes. An evening wind,
sharp with brine, was blowing in from the ocean, stirring the surface of
the long creeks into silent ripples, and bending landwards the thin
streaks of white smoke rising amongst the red-tiled roofs of the
village. I felt the delicate sting of it upon my cheeks. Lady Angela
half closed her eyes as she turned her face seawards.
"I came for this," she murmured. "There is nothing like it anywhere
else."
We stood there in silence for several long minutes. Then she turned to
me with a little sigh.
"I am content," she said. "Will you come up and dine with us to-night?
Blenavon will be there, you know." I hesitated.
"I am afraid it is rather a bother to you to leave your work," she
continued, "but I am not offering you idle hospitality. I really want
you to come."
"In that case," I answered, "of course I shall be delighted."
She pointed to Braster Grange away on the other side of the village. I
noticed for the first time that it was all lit up.
"Have you heard anything of our new neighbours?" she asked.
"Only their names," I answered. "I did not even know that they had
arrived."
"There is only a woman, I believe," she said. "I have met her abroad,
and I dislike her--greatly. I hear that my brother spends most of his
time with her, and that he has dined there the last three nights. It is
not safe or wise of him, for many reasons. I want to stop it. That is
why I have asked you to come to us."
"It is quite sufficient," I told her. "If you want me for any reason I
will come. I am two days ahead of my work."
We threaded our way amongst the creeks. All the time the salt wind blew
upon us, and the smell of fresh seaweed seemed to fill the air with
ozone. Just as we came in sight of the road we heard the thunder of
hoofs behind. We turned around. It was Blenavon, riding side by side
with a lady who was a stranger to me. Her figure was slim but elegant.
I caught a glimpse of her face as they flashed by, and it puzzled me.
Her hair was almost straw coloured, her complexion was negative, her
features were certainly not good. Yet there was something about her
attractive, something which set me guessing at once as to the colour of
her eyes, the quality of her voice, if she should speak. Blenavon
reined in his horse.
"So you have turned up, Angela," he remarked, looking at her a little
nervously. "You remember Mrs. Smith-Lessing, don't you--down at
Bordighera, you know?"
Angela shook her head, but she never glanced towards the woman who sat
there with expectant smile.
"I am afraid that I do not," she said. "I remember a good many things
about Bordighera, but--not Mrs. Smith-Lessing. I shall see you at
dinner-time, Blenavon. I have some messages for you."
I saw the whip come down upon the woman's horse, but I did not dare to
look into her face. Blenavon, with a smothered oath and a black look at
his sister, galloped after her. I rejoined Lady Angela, who was already
in the road.
"Dear me," she said, "what a magnificent nerve that woman must have! To
dare to imagine that I should receive her! Why, she is known in every
capital in Europe--a police spy, a creature whose brains and body and
soul are to be bought by any one's gold."
"What on earth can such a woman want here?" I remarked.
"In hiding, very likely," Lady Angela remarked. "Or perhaps she may be
an additional complication for you."
I laughed a little scornfully.
"You, too, are getting suspicious," I declared. "The Prince and Mrs.
Smith-Lessing are a strong combination."
"Be careful then that they are not too strong for you," she answered,
smiling. "I have heard a famous boast of Mrs. Smith-Lessing's, that
never a man nor a lock has yet resisted her."
I thought of her face as I had seen it in the half light--a faint
impression of delicate colourlessness, and for the life of me I could
not help a little shiver. Lady Angela looked at me in surprise.
"Are you cold?" she asked. "Let us walk more quickly."
"It is always cold at this time in the evening," I remarked. "It is the
mist coming up from the marshes. One feels it at unexpected moments."
"I am not going to take you any farther," she declared, "especially as
you are coming up to-night. Eight o'clock, remember. Go and salve your
conscience with some work."
I protested, but she was firm. So I stood by the gate and watched her
slim young figure disappear in the gathering shadows.