FENWICK MOVES AGAIN
Beth raised no objection to the programme; indeed, the suggestion seemed
to fill her with delight. She would not be a moment, she said. She would
put certain necessaries in a handbag, and come back for the rest of her
wardrobe on the morrow. Venner had expressed a desire that Zary should
accompany him, but the latter shook his head emphatically.
"No, no," he said; "you are going alone. As for me, I have important
business on hand which will not brook the slightest delay. Mr. Gurdon had
best return to his own rooms; and, for his own sake, I would advise him
to keep in the middle of the road. You two little know the danger you
incurred when you decided to thrust your head into this hornet's nest.
Now I will see you both off the premises and put out all the lights. I
may mention in passing that I have a latchkey to this place."
A few minutes later Venner found himself walking down the deserted
streets with his fair little companion hanging on his arm. She chattered
to him very prettily and daintily, but there was a great deal in her
remarks which conveyed nothing to him at all. She constantly alluded to
matters of which he was entirely ignorant, apparently taking it for
granted that he was _au fait_ with what she was saying. It struck Venner
that though not exactly mentally deficient, she was suffering from
weakness of intellect, brought about, probably, by some great shock or
terrible sorrow. On the whole, he was not sorry to find himself in the
great hall of the hotel, the lights of which were still burning, and
where several guests were lounging for a final cigar.
"I know it is exceedingly late," Venner said to the clerk, "but it is
quite imperative that this young lady should see Miss Fenwick. Will
you be good enough to send up to her room and tell her how sorry I am
to disturb her at this time of night, but that the matter is
exceedingly urgent?"
"Miss Fenwick is not in, sir," came the startling response. "She went out
shortly after eleven o'clock, and she told me that she might not be back
for some considerable time. You see, she wanted to be quite sure that she
could get back into the hotel at any time she returned. Oh, no doubt she
is returning, or I don't suppose for a moment that she would have asked
me all those questions."
The information was sufficiently disturbing, but there was no help for
it. All they had to do was to sit down and wait patiently till Vera came
back. They were not in the least likely to attract any attention, seeing
that several men in evening dress together with their wives were seated
in the hall for a final chat after the theatre or some party or
reception. In her long white frock, partially concealed by a cloak and
hood, Beth would have easily passed for a girl fresh from a theatre or a
dance. It was a long weary wait of over an hour, and Venner was feeling
distinctly anxious, when the big folding doors at the end of the hall
opened and Vera's tall, graceful figure emerged.
"Here is your sister," Venner said. There was just a stern suggestion in
his voice. "Now, you are not to cry or make any scene, you are not to
attract any attention to yourself, but take it all for granted. You can
be as emotional as you please when you are alone together in your room."
Vera came across the hall in a jaded, weary way, as if she were
thoroughly tired out. Her face flushed a little as she recognised Venner.
Then she looked at his companion and almost paused, while the blood ebbed
from her face, leaving it deadly pale.
"Gerald," she whispered. "Gerald and Beth. What does it mean? What
strange thing has happened to bring you both together here."
"Don't make a scene, for goodness' sake," Venner said. "Take it as calmly
as you can. Unless you are self-possessed, your sister is sure to give
way, and that is the last thing in the world to be desired. I cannot
possibly stop now to tell you all the extraordinary things which have
happened to-night. Let it be sufficient to say that it is absolutely
imperative that you give your sister shelter, and that nobody but
yourself should know where she is."
"But how did you find her?" Vera asked. "And who was it suggested that
you should bring her to me?"
"Let me just mention the name of Zary," Venner replied. "Oh, I can come
round here to-morrow and tell you all about it. If you think that there
is any possible danger--"
"Of course there is danger," Vera said. "Mr. Fenwick may be back at any
moment. He does not know that I am aware that my sister is even alive. If
he became acquainted with the fact that we had come together again, all
my plans would be absolutely ruined, and my three years of self-sacrifice
would be in vain."
"I am afraid you must run the risk now," Venner said. "At any rate, your
sister will have to stay here till the morning. It is perhaps a good
thing that she does not understand what is going on."
Apparently the girl had no real comprehension of all the anxieties and
emotions of which she was unconsciously the centre. She was holding her
sister's hand now and smiling tenderly into her face, like a child who
has found a long-lost friend.
"You may rest assured on one point," Venner went on. "For the present
there is not the slightest reason to fear Fenwick. He has had a great
shock to-night; all his plans have been upset, and he finds himself in a
position of considerable danger. I know for a fact that he is going
straight away to Canterbury, and probably by this time he is on his way
there. According to what your mysterious friend Zary said, he had some
plan cut and dried for providing for your sister's safety to-morrow. Now
take the poor child to bed, for she is half asleep already, and when once
you have made her comfortable I want you to come down again and have a
few words with me. You need not hesitate; surely a man can talk to his
wife whenever he pleases--and, besides, there are several people here who
show not the slightest signs of going to bed yet."
"Very well," Vera said. "Come along, dear, I see you are dreadfully
sleepy--so sleepy that you do not appear to recognise the sister you have
met for the first time for three years."
Venner had time to smoke the best part of a cigar before Vera reappeared.
They took a seat in a secluded corner of the hall, where it was possible
to talk without interruption.
"Now, please, tell me everything," the girl said.
"I am afraid that is impossible," Venner replied. "This is one of the
most extraordinary and complicated businesses that I ever heard of. In
the first place, I came to England, weary and worn out with my search for
you, and half inclined to abandon it altogether. In the very last place
in the world where I expect to meet you, I come in contact with you in
this hotel. I find that you are being passed off as the daughter of one
of the greatest scoundrels who ever cheated the gallows. But that does
not check my faith in you. I had kept my trust in you intact. Ever since
you left me on the day of our marriage I have had nothing but a few words
to explain your amazing conduct; and now here am I doing my best to free
you from the chains that bind you, and all the while you seem to be
struggling to hug those chains about you and to baffle all my efforts.
Why do you do this? What is the secret that you conceal so carefully from
the man who would do anything to save you from trouble, from the man you
profess to love? If you do care for me--"
"Oh, I do indeed," Vera whispered. There were tears in her eyes now and
her cheeks were wet. "It is not for my own sake--it is for the sake of
the poor girl upstairs. I had promised to say nothing of that to
anyone--to try and save her--and I left you and ran the risk of for ever
forfeiting your affection. But if Beth is better in the morning I will
try to get her to absolve me from my promise and induce her--"
"She is not capable of giving a promise of rescinding it," Venner said.
"Don't you think it would be far better if, instead, you discussed the
matter with your brother, Charles Le Fenu?"
"So you know all about that?" Vera cried.
"Yes, I do. I have seen him to-night. Gurdon has already had an interview
with him--an interview that almost cost him his life. We have been having
some pretty fine adventures the last two or three days--but if it all
ends in saving you and lifting this cloud from your life I shall be well
content. I am not going to ask you to go into explanations now, because I
see they would be distasteful to you, and because you have given some
foolish promise which you are loth to break. But tell me one thing. You
said just now that you had not seen your sister for three years, though
she has been living with your brother, whom you visited quite recently."
"That is easily explained," Vera said. "It was deemed necessary to tell
Beth one or two fictions with a view to easing her mind and leaving her
still with some slight shadow of hope, which was the only means of
preventing her reason from absolutely leaving her. These fictions
entailed my keeping out of the way. Beth is exceedingly different from
me, as you know."
"Indeed, she is," said Venner, smiling for the first time. "But does it
not strike you as an extraordinary thing that I should be fighting in
this fierce way in your behalf, and that you should be placing negative
obstacles in my way all the time? I won't worry you any more to-night,
dearest--you look tired and worn out. You had better go to your own
room, and we can discuss this matter further in the morning."
It was dark enough and sheltered enough in that secluded corner of the
hall for Venner to draw the girl towards him and kiss her lips
passionately. Just for a brief moment Vera lay in her husband's arms;
then, with a little sigh, she disengaged herself and disappeared slowly
up the stairs.
She had placed Beth in her own room, which they would share together for
that night, at any rate. The younger girl was sleeping placidly; there
was a smile on her face--her lips were parted like those of one who is
utterly and entirely happy. She made a fair picture as she lay there,
with her yellow hair streaming over her shoulders. She just murmured
something in her sleep, as Vera bent over her and brushed her forehead
lightly with her lips.
"Oh, I wonder how long this cloud will last!" Vera murmured--"how much
longer I shall be till I am free! How terrible it is to have the offer of
a good man's love, and be compelled to spoil it as I do, or, at least, as
I appear to do. And yet I should be a happy woman if I could only throw
off these shackles--"
Vera paused, unable to say more, for something seemed to rise in her
throat and choke her. She was utterly tired and worn out, almost too
tired to undress and get into bed--and yet once her head was on the
pillow she could not sleep; she tossed and turned wearily. All London
seemed to be transformed into one noisy collection of clocks. The noise
and the din seemed to stun Vera and throb through her head like the
beating of hammers on her brain. She fell off presently into a troubled
sleep, which was full of dreams. It seemed to her that she was locked in
a safe, and that somebody outside was hammering at the walls to let her
free. Then she became conscious of the fact that somebody really was
knocking at the door. As Vera stumbled out of bed a clock somewhere
struck three. She flicked up the light and opened the door. A
sleepy-looking chambermaid handed her a note, which was marked "Urgent"
on the envelope. With a thrill, she recognised the handwriting of Mark
Fenwick. What new disaster was here? she wondered.
"Is there anybody waiting for an answer?" she asked tremblingly. "Is the
messenger downstairs?"
"Yes, miss," the sleepy chambermaid replied. "It was brought by a
gentleman in a motor. I told him you were in bed and fast asleep, but he
said it was of the greatest importance and I was to wake you. Perhaps you
had better read it."
With a hand that trembled terribly, Vera tore open the envelope. There
were only two or three lines there in Fenwick's stiff handwriting;
they were curt and discourteous, and very much to the point. They ran
as follows--
"I am writing you this from Canterbury, where I have been for the last
hour, and where I have important business. I have sent one of the cars
over for you, and you are to come back at once. Whatever happens, see
that you obey me."
* * * * *
"You will tell the gentleman I will be down in a few moments," Vera said.
"I will not detain him any longer than I can help."
"What is to be done?" the girl wondered directly she was alone. She felt
that she dared not disobey this command; she would have to go at all
costs. She knew by bitter experience that Fenwick was not the man to
brook contradiction. Besides, at the present moment it would be a fatal
thing to rouse his suspicions. And yet, she felt how impossible it was
for her to leave Beth here in the circumstances. Nor could she see her
way to call up Venner at this hour and explain what had happened. All she
could do was to scribble a short note to him with a view to explaining
the outline of the new situation. Ten minutes later she was downstairs in
the hall, where she found the man awaiting her. He was clad in furs, his
motor cap was pulled over his eyes as if he shrank from observation; but
all the same Vera recognised him.
"So it is you, Jones," she said. "Do you know that you have been sent all
the way from Canterbury to fetch me at this time in the morning? It is
perfectly monstrous that I should be dragged out of bed like this;
perfectly disgraceful!"
"I don't know anything about that, miss," the man said sullenly. "It is
the guv'nor's orders, and he gave me pretty plainly to understand that
he would want to know the reason why if I came back without you. Don't
blame me."
"I'm not blaming you at all," Vera said, coldly. "Nor am I going to stand
here bandying words with you. I will just go to my room and put on a fur
coat--then I shall be ready."
"Very well, miss. That's the proper way to take it. But where is the
other young lady?"
Vera's heart fairly stood still for a moment. Fenwick's note had said
nothing about her sister, though this man seemed to be aware of the fact
that she was here. There was only one thing for it, and that was to lie
boldly and without hesitation. She looked the speaker in the face in
blank astonishment.
"I fail to understand you," she said. "There is nobody here but me; there
could be nobody here but me. And now I have nothing further to say. One
moment and I will be with you."