THE MAJOR'S MESSAGE AND HOW IT WAS DELIVERED
Selene Scott had finished her correspondence when Laurence reappeared on
the lawn of the Manse, and was waiting, ready dressed, to go for the
promised walk.
"Where have you been?" she asked, evidently guessing from Laurence's
face that something unusual had happened. "Tell me, you surely have not
visited your neighbours without me? You promised, didn't you, that you
would take me to see this mysterious Major of yours?"
There was only one thing to do, Laurence decided, and that was to
confess that he had taken another step in his investigations. Miss Scott
was much interested in his experience, slight though it was. She plainly
showed her displeasure though, because she had not herself been
permitted to have a share in the adventure. "The old fossil of a porter
might have acted quite differently when a real live lady was standing on
the doorstep," she said, with a smile. "Promise me, now," she added,
"that if you go again you will let me accompany you. I am just as
interested as you are, and quite as good a detective."
But Laurence politely refused to give the required promise. He foretold
experiences far less pleasant than those that had already passed, before
he would be able to say that he held the key to the mystery of his
father's strange dread. When he recollected that Lena was a guest, and
that her connection with the extraordinary state of affairs was unknown
to her aunt and guardian, Mrs. Knox, he felt that he would be doing
wrong to make a promise such as the girl asked.
However, as he had already confided in her the history of the whole
series of events that had happened during the last few days (and he
regretted that he had done so when it was too late) there was no harm in
relating the story of his adventure in the barn on the previous night.
But Lena was no more able to account for the queer creature's antics
than he had been, though she agreed that there was a possibility of that
creature and the woman in coloured skirts (the mere mention of whom had
caused the Squire to faint) being one and the same.
The engrossing subject of what both rightly called "the" mystery filled
their minds, and throughout the long ramble in the Northden Woods that
occupied the best part of the morning, no other topic of conversation
was so much as touched upon. Yet in spite of this fact, Laurence felt
that Lena was becoming more to him than a mere guest--a companion
amateur detective!
A few minutes yet remained before luncheon, when the two found
themselves back in the Manse grounds again, so Laurence fetched a couple
of basket chairs on to the lawn, which was a small one, lying at the
back of the house, and they sat down in the shadow of a monster holly
bush, that was one of the most striking features of the place. From this
spot they could obtain a mere glimpse of the tiled roof of Durley Dene,
through a break in the line of bushes that, with a palisade of stout
iron stakes, separated the grounds of the neighbouring houses. The holly
bush must have stood at least sixty or eighty yards from the boundary
line.
The young people had hardly ensconced themselves beneath the welcome
shadow of the tree (for in height and size it was more like a tree than
a bush) when suddenly something fell with a hard "plomp" on the soft
turf, and rolled almost to their feet.
Laurence started up with an exclamation of surprise, and Lena also rose
to her feet.
"What is it?" she asked, and her companion hastily picked up the round
white ball that had caused her remark.
Whence it had come was a mystery. No one was near. Judging from the
direction in which it had rolled on reaching the ground, it must have
been despatched, either from the barn or the laurel bushes that bounded
the grounds.
It was heavy for its size, and Laurence, on examination, found it to be
something wrapped in a piece of white paper, which was tightly fastened
round it. Lena leaned over him, curious and excited, as he proceeded to
peel off the paper. When he did so, out dropped an ordinary round
pebble.
"There, it's only a hoax!" cried Lena, looking quite disappointed.
"No, no," answered Laurence: "there's something on the inside of the
paper." He smoothed the white sheet out on his knee, and then read aloud
what was marked upon it in a small, shaky handwriting.
"Before calling in the police please pay me another visit, when I will
see you, provided you come alone, and after dark.--J. F."
"Jones-Farnell," exclaimed Lena, and for a moment or two neither of them
spoke.
"Of course you won't go," said the girl, after the brief pause.
"Of course I will, Miss Scott," replied Laurence promptly.
"But--oh, won't it be too risky for you to go--alone?"
"I hope I shall be able to take care of myself, Miss Scott."
"Yes, but----"
"But?"
"Suppose it's some trap to--murder you," whispered Lena. "Look at that
letter. It is sent in a most mysterious fashion by a man you've never
seen. It tells you to come alone and after dark. Doesn't that look
frightfully suspicious? Don't you see that if they have got some secret,
or are carrying on, as I shrewdly guess, some illegal occupation, what,
Heaven only knows, don't you see, if this is so, and they know that you
suspect them and are making investigations, that it will be greatly to
their advantage to have you out of the way? You know what I mean."
"Yes, I understand your argument, and appreciate your good sense, but
I'm sorry that I cannot take your advice. The matter, I feel confident,
is one of life and death to my poor father. Is it not only natural that
I should risk my own life for his, particularly when I am a strong man
and he old and getting infirm? Besides, there may be no risk after all.
We may be mistaken, though I can't see how. At any rate, it is my duty
to go to-night----"
"To-night! Oh, not so soon, surely----"
"Procrastination, you know, Miss Scott, is the thief of time. To-morrow
may be too late. Hourly, almost, I am dreading a second attempt on the
poor old Squire's life, and if I keep my appointment to-night I may yet
be in time to save him."
"But let me go with you. Do, please!" Lena cried, pleadingly.
"No, no, you must not endanger yourself. What would Mrs. Knox say?"
"I don't care what auntie says in the least, and----" she stopped short.
"Tell me," Laurence cried, as he turned to his young companion and,
looking into her clear blue eyes, where he fancied he saw a glistening
tear, forgot everything, his father, himself, and the mystery that was
deepening around them, "tell me, why do you say this, why do you mind my
going? What can it matter to you? Is it, tell me I am right, that you
are urged by the same feelings that I am when I refuse to take you with
me? Say 'yes,' and you will make me the happiest being on this earth,
for the reason why I will not allow you to endanger your dear life is
because I love you."
The effect of Laurence's confession of love on Lena in fiction would
doubtless have been the dramatic and time-honoured remark on the
"suddenness" of the declaration, but this was not the reception she gave
to the young man's passionate outburst.
"Laurence," she said, and the pronunciation by her lips of his Christian
name thrilled him with pleasure, "Laurence, when the mystery is solved,
when you return safe from your interview to-day, then, and not till
then, will I give you my answer."
She paused to catch her breath. With difficulty she had been able to
pronounce the words that in cold print appear more formal and
unsatisfactory than they seemed to Laurence, intoned as they were by the
gentle voice of the woman he loved.
For the moment she was transformed from a laughing, vivacious girl to a
silent and thoughtful woman.
How much in her own opinion the coming visit to Durley Dene meant to her
she alone knew. She dared not betray her love for her new companion,
though it was manifest in her eyes as she glanced at him; then, looking
down, interested herself in the progress of a worm on the turf. What
was the secret that might--that probably would--be revealed in a few
brief hours? Since it seemed that a woman was concerned, might not the
grim skeleton in the cupboard prove to be a disgraceful as well as a
gruesome one? And then? How often are not the sins of the fathers
visited upon the innocent children?
And that was why she paused and refused her answer. Had not the lover
been blind, as is the love-god himself, he would have read that answer
as plainly as though it had been given in words. But Laurence, at any
rate, felt he could not be discouraged. He had not been met with a blank
refusal.
He caught Lena's little ungloved hand, bent down, and kissed it
tenderly.
And as he did so the gong sounded for lunch, and they made their way
back to the house, where they met the Squire for the first time that day
in the dining-room. The old man's spirits contained something of their
old joviality. At the meal he was once more, to some slight extent, the
courteous, old-fashioned host and gentleman that he had been a few
months back. Laurence heartily rejoiced at the change in his father's
behaviour. Lena noticed it too. Mrs. Knox might perhaps have done so
also had the viands been less palatable or her appetite less hearty. The
cause of the transformation was unknown to any of them, but Laurence
guessed very rightly that the Squire's dread of his strange enemy had
been lessened by the fact that no second attack had been attempted. As a
matter of fact, Mr. Carrington was beginning to hope that his assailant
of two days ago had departed under the impression that the victim had
been killed by the cowardly shot fired into the coach as it crossed the
moor.
Had he been able to glance into the mysterious future and learn what the
events of the coming night were to be, it is possible that his behaviour
would have been very different.