DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE
To Hamilton it was evident that the man Krail, now smartly dressed in
country tweeds, was telling the girl something which surprised her. He
was speaking quickly, making involuntary gestures which betrayed his
foreign birth, while she stood pale, surprised, and yet defiant. The
Baron's secretary was not near enough to overhear their words. Indeed,
he remained there in concealment in order to watch.
Why had Gabrielle met Felix Krail--of all men? She was beautiful. Yes,
there could be no two opinions upon that point, Edgar decided. And yet
how strange it all was, how very remarkable, how romantic!
The man was evidently endeavouring to impress upon the girl some plain
truths to which, at first, she refused to listen. She shrugged her
shoulders impatiently and swung her walking-stick before her in an
attempt to remain unconcerned. But from where Hamilton was standing he
could plainly detect her agitation. Whatever Krail had told her had
caused her much nervous anxiety. What could it be?
Across the meadows, beyond the river, could be seen the lantern-tower of
old Fotheringhay church, with the mound behind where once stood the
castle where ill-fated Mary met her doom.
And as the Baron's secretary watched, he saw that the foreigner's
attitude was gradually changing from persuasive to threatening. He was
speaking quickly, probably in French, making wild gestures with his
hands, while she had drawn back with an expression of alarm. She was
now, it seemed, frightened at the man, and to Edgar Hamilton this
increased the interest tenfold.
Through his mind there flashed the recollection of a previous occasion
when he had seen the man now before him. He was in different garb, and
acting a very different part. But his face was still the same--a
countenance which it was impossible to forget. He was watching the
changing expression upon the girl's face. Would that he could read the
secret hidden behind those wonderful eyes! He had, quite unexpectedly,
discovered a mysterious circumstance. Why should Krail meet her by
accident at that lonely spot?
The pair moved very slowly together along the path which, having left
the way to Southwick, ran along the very edge of the broad, winding
river towards Fotheringhay. Until they had crossed the wide pasture-land
and followed the bend of the stream Hamilton dare not emerge from his
place of concealment. They might glance back and discover him. If so,
then to watch Krail's movements further would be futile.
He saw that, by the exercise of caution, he might perhaps learn
something of deeper interest than he imagined. So he watched until they
disappeared, and then sped along the path they had taken until he came
to a clump of bushes which afforded further cover. From where he stood,
however, he could see nothing. He could hear voices--a man's voice
raised in distinct threats, and a woman's quick, defiant response.
He walked round the bushes quickly, trying to get sight of the pair, but
the river bent sharply at that point in such a manner that he could not
get a glimpse of them.
Again he heard Krail speaking rapidly in French, and still again the
girl's response. Then, next instant, there was a shrill scream and a
loud splash.
Next moment, he had darted from his hiding-place to find the girl
struggling in the water, while at the same time he caught sight of Krail
disappearing quickly around the path. Had he glanced back he could not
have seen the girl in the stream.
At that point the bank was steep, and the stillness of the river and
absence of rushes told that it was deep.
The girl was throwing up her hand, shrieking for help; therefore,
without a second's hesitation, Hamilton, who was a good swimmer, threw
off his coat, and, diving in, was soon at her side.
By this time Krail had hurried on, and could obtain no glimpse of what
was in progress owing to the sharp bend of the river.
After considerable splashing--Hamilton urging her to remain calm--he
succeeded in bringing her to land, where they both struggled up the bank
dripping wet and more or less exhausted. Some moments elapsed before
either spoke; until, indeed, Hamilton, looking straight into the girl's
face and bursting out laughing, exclaimed, "Well, I think I have the
pleasure of being acquainted with you, but I must say that we both look
like drowned rats!"
"I look horrid!" she declared, staring at him half-dazed, putting her
hands to her dripping hair. "I know I must. But I have to thank you for
pulling me out. Only fancy, Mr. Hamilton--you!"
"Oh, no thanks are required! What we must do is to get to some place and
get our clothes dried," he said. "Do you know this neighbourhood?"
"Oh, yes. Straight over there, about a quarter of a mile away, is
Wyatt's farm. Mrs. Wyatt will look after us, I'm sure." And as she rose
to her feet, regarding her companion shyly, her skirts clung around her
and the water squelched from her shoes.
"Very well," he answered cheerily. "Let's go and see what can be done
towards getting some dry kit. I'm glad you're not too frightened. A good
many girls would have fainted, and all that kind of thing."
"I certainly should have gone under if you hadn't so fortunately come
along!" she exclaimed. "I really don't know how to thank you
sufficiently. You've actually saved my life, you know! If it were not
for you I'd have been dead by this time, for I can't swim a stroke."
"By Jove!" he laughed, treating the whole affair as a huge joke, "how
romantic it sounds! Fancy meeting you again after all this time, and
saving your life! I suppose the papers will be full of it if they get to
know--gallant rescue, and all that kind of twaddle."
"Well, personally, I hope the papers won't get hold of this piece of
intelligence," she said seriously, as they walked together, rather
pitiable objects, across the wide grass-fields.
He glanced at her pale face, her hair hanging dank and wet about it, and
saw that, even under these disadvantageous conditions, she had grown
more beautiful than before. Of late he had heard of her--heard a good
deal of her--but had never dreamed that they would meet again in that
manner.
"How did it happen?" he asked in pretence of ignorance of her
companion's presence.
She raised her fine eyes to his for a moment, and wavered beneath his
inquiring gaze.
"I--I--well, I really don't know," was her rather lame answer. "The bank
was very slippery, and--well, I suppose I walked too near."
Her reply struck him as curious. Why did she attempt to shield the man
who, by his sudden flight, was self-convicted of an attempt upon her
life?
Felix Krail was not a complete stranger to her. Why had their meeting
been a clandestine one? This, and a thousand similar queries ran through
his mind as they walked across the field in the direction of a long,
low, thatched farmhouse which stood in the distance.
"I'm a complete stranger in these parts," Hamilton informed her. "I live
nowadays mostly abroad, away above the Danube, and am only home for a
holiday."
"And I'm afraid you've completely spoilt your clothes," she laughed,
looking at his wet, muddy trousers and boots.
"Well, if I have, yours also are no further good."
"Oh, my blouse will wash, and I shall send my skirt to the cleaners, and
it will come back like new," she answered. "Women's outdoor clothing
never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then
I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?"
"I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean
villages, with a church at the end."
"That's it--the dullest little place in all England, I believe."
He was struck by her charm of manner. Though bedraggled and dishevelled,
she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with
careless unconcern.
Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive
had he?
They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced
woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks,
Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm.
"I fell into the river, and this gentleman fished me out. That's all,"
laughed the girl. "We want to dry our things, if we may."
In a few minutes, in bedrooms upstairs, they had exchanged their wet
clothes for dry ones. Then Edgar in the farmer's Sunday suit of black,
and Gabrielle in one of Mrs. Wyatt's stuff dresses, in the big folds of
which her slim little figure was lost, met again in the spacious
farmhouse-kitchen below.
They laughed heartily at the ridiculous figure which each presented, and
drank the glasses of hot milk which the farmer's wife pressed upon them.
Old Miss Heyburn had been Mrs. Wyatt's mistress years ago, when she was
in service, therefore she was most solicitous after the girl's welfare,
and truth to tell looked askance at the good-looking stranger who had
accompanied her.
Gabrielle, too, was puzzled to know why Mr. Hamilton should be there.
That he now lived abroad "beside the Danube" was all the information he
had vouchsafed regarding himself, yet from certain remarks he had
dropped she was suspicious. She recollected only too vividly the
occasion when they had met last, and what had occurred.
They sat together on the bench outside the house, enjoying the full
sunshine, while the farmer's wife chattered on. A big fire had been made
in the kitchen, and their clothes were rapidly drying.
Hamilton, by careful questions, endeavoured to obtain from the girl some
information concerning her dealings with the man Krail. But she was too
wary. It was evident that she had some distinct object in concealing the
fact that he had deliberately flung her into the water after that heated
altercation.
Felix Krail! The very name caused him to clench his hands. Fortunately,
he knew the truth, therefore that dastardly attempt upon the girl's life
should not go unpunished. As he sat there chatting with her, admiring
her refinement and innate daintiness, he made a vow within himself to
seek out that cowardly fugitive and meet him face to face.
Felix Krail! What could be his object in ridding the world of the
daughter of Sir Henry Heyburn! What would the man gain thereby? He knew
Krail too well to imagine that he ever did anything without a motive of
gain. So well did he play his cards always that the police could never
lay hands upon him. Yet his "friends," as he termed them, were among the
most dangerous men in all Europe--men who were unscrupulous, and would
hesitate at nothing in order to accomplish the _coup_ which they had
devised.
What was the _coup_ in this particular instance? Ay, that was the
question.