A MAN AND A MAID
The five o’clock west-bound mail carried a saloon in which were
fifteen men and one woman, who did not usually undertake a journey to
the West of England. Bullott was taking no chances. He had been
allowed to select his own posse, and when, at eight o’clock that
night, they reached Newton Abbot, he was confident that, whatever the
search of the Priory might produce, he would not fail through lack of
able assistance.
Four big cars left at intervals for Two Bridges, partly because this
made a convenient halting-place, and partly by reason of Bullott’s
knowledge that Pawter usually spent the night at the hotel when his
duties brought him to the Priory.
The first car carried Betty and her uncle, with Bill Holbrook,
Inspector Bullott, and a detective at the driver’s side.
“I’m beginning to get thrilled,” she said in a low voice, as the car
came down to Buckfastleigh-in-the-Moor, and the severe splendour of
the new Abbey showed for a second in the paling light. “And you are
also, Mr. Holbrook--you’ve spoken hardly a word since we left town.”
“No.” Bill roused himself with an effort. “I’ve got a thinking fit
to-day. When are you leaving?”
“On Saturday,” she said. “I’m looking forward to that trip
tremendously. The _Escorial_ is the biggest ship in the new American
line, isn’t it, Mr. Stone?”
“The biggest and the best,” he said stoutly. “We’re going to show
these Europeans that we can run ships as well as the best
organisations in England or Germany.”
He spoke of the great social halls, of the swimming-pool, the
wonderful suites, the Florentine restaurant and the palm court, and
Bill grew more dismal in inverse ratio to his companion’s enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you come along? I’m making up a party for my camp in the
Adirondacks.”
Bill sighed heavily.
“Get thee behind me, Lambert Stone,” he groaned.
“Why don’t you come, Mr. Holbrook?” asked Betty, to her uncle’s
surprise. “You were one of the first people Mr. Stone suggested, but
I--I thought you wouldn’t like to join us.”
“Who’s going?” asked Bill, and the first name damped any enthusiasm
that was developing. “You’ll enjoy it, anyway,” he said. “We’re
getting near Two Bridges,” with this he abruptly turned the subject.
The car pulled up before the hotel and Bullott went to see Pawter. He
came out very shortly afterwards, and in his voice was a note of
concern.
“Pawter hasn’t returned,” he said. “They say he is usually back by
half-past nine, and it’s past ten now.”
“He isn’t that much behind his time that you need worry,” said Stone.
“What do you intend doing--I mean, what is the object of raiding the
Priory?”
“Primarily to take a good look at the gentlemen who are in control,”
said Bullott. “I wish to satisfy myself that Mr. Leiff Stone is what
he appears to be--the head of a perfectly harmless organisation.”
Lambert Stone was looking at him intently.
“That isn’t your object, Mr. Bullott,” he said quietly, “there is
some other reason. My brother would not be a party to any illegal
practices. Do you think that the Order has got into the hands of
lawless men and that he is there too?”
“I think a good many things. I am scared about more,” he said.
The half-hour that followed afforded two members of the party an
opportunity which one at least desired. Bill had strolled a little way
along the dark road when he heard footsteps behind him, and, turning,
discerned the figure of the girl.
“Mr. Holbrook,” she called, “I want to speak to you. Have I offended
you?”
“Offended me?” said Bill in amazement. “Why, no, Miss Carew.”
“Or is it your natural repugnance to compromise?”
He did not see her smile, but he heard the laughter in her voice.
“You aren’t very friendly, are you? I remember not so long ago, when I
walked a long way to avoid you. I am more shameless now. Are you very
angry with me?”
“Why should I be?”
“Why won’t you come to America? My uncle would have really liked to
ask you; it was I who stopped him writing you an invitation. You see,
Mr. Holbrook,” she said as she walked by his side, “I was rather
scared of you; I couldn’t understand what part you were playing in
that horrible scheme to put me in a shop window, and I told
Clive----”
“Shall we leave Lord Lowbridge out of account?” he said, with
inexplicable exasperation.
“You don’t like Lord Lowbridge?”
“I like him all right,” said Bill. “I’m sorry I was so irritable.”
“Why don’t you like him?” she insisted.
“I don’t know. Does anybody like the perfect man--any other man, I
mean?”
He heard her soft laughter and grinned a little sheepishly.
“You’re jealous!”
The astounding charge took his breath away.
“Jealous?” he stammered. “What do you mean? How can I be jealous?”
“You’re jealous,” she said again, “that is, if you’re human.”
He had no words to answer her.
“I’ve been on the stage--lived in an atmosphere where love and
infatuation and the other pleasant mysteries of life are discussed so
naturally and so persistently that even I can discuss them
without--without embarrassment. A woman loses a great deal when she
becomes sophisticated, but she gains in knowledge. Mr. Holbrook,
you’re falling in love, and you mustn’t!”
Never before in his life had he felt at such a disadvantage, so
incapable of pert rejoinder. She was telling him something that
consciously he had not known.
“Why mustn’t I?” he said. His voice was husky as he went on quickly,
“Of course, I know you’re frantically rich, and you’re in love with
another man, but they’re the merest items, and anyway, there’s nothing
to prevent my loving you--if I want.”
“Except that I’m married,” she said.
He stopped dead.
“To Lowbridge?” he asked, scarcely recognising his own voice.
“No, to Dr. Laffin. I think you ought to know this. I am married in
the sense that I have been through a ceremony before the registrar. I
don’t know why he did it, but--yes, I do.”
“Does Mr. Stone know?”
“No,” she said in a low voice, “I do not wish him to know--yet.”
They were nearing the hotel again when he halted.
“Suppose you weren’t married?” he asked, and it required all his
courage to put the question. “Would that make a whole lot of
difference to--to me, or to Lowbridge?”
“Let us go in,” she said, turning. “I thought I heard the inspector
call.”
But he would not move.
“To whom would this make most difference?”
“To both of you, I think,” she said lightly, and then her arm was in
his. “I shall never marry Clive,” she said.