The Evil Shepherd Part 29

"I think very likely," he said soothingly, "we have both exaggerated the seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about the place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, and that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves.

That doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal."

"If that were all!" she murmured.

"I dare say it is," he declared. "London, as you know, is a hot-bed of gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think that it rather appeals to your father's curious sense of humour to pose as the law-breaker."

She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was beginning to fall.

"Francis," she whispered, "we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the sun has gone and I am s.h.i.+very."

He understood in a moment.

"We'll lunch at Ranelagh," he suggested. "It is almost on the way up.

Then we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in town tonight and do a theatre."

"You are a dear," she told him fervently. "I am going in to get ready."

Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to the front. While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through the door in the wall. He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an umbrella to protect his white flannel suit. He was as usual wonderfully groomed and turned out, but he walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he greeted Francis, lacked a little of its usual light-hearted mockery.

"Are you going up to town?" he enquired.

Francis pointed to the grey skies.

"Just for the day," he answered. "Lady Cynthia went by the early train.

We missed you last night."

"I came down late," Sir Timothy explained, "and I found it more convenient to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that Grover looks after you while I am away? He has carte blanche so far as regards my cellar."

"We have been wonderfully served," Francis a.s.sured him.

In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side of the wall. Francis moved his head in that direction.

"I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful entertainments over there," he remarked.

"On Thursday," Sir Timothy a.s.sented. "I shall have something to say to you about it later on."

"Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?" Francis asked.

"I should think it possible," was the calm reply.

"What about Margaret?"

"My entertainment would not appeal to her," Sir Timothy declared.

"The women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of Margaret's type."

"And Lady Cynthia?"

Sir Timothy frowned slightly.

"I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia," he admitted.

"I am the guardian of n.o.body's morals, nor am I the censor of their tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The women whom I have hitherto asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal interest. They are necessary to form a picturesque background for my rooms, in the same way that I look to the gardeners to supply the floral decorations. Lady Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat adventurous. She would scarcely be content to remain a decoration."

"The issuing of your invitations," Francis remarked, "is of course a matter which concerns n.o.body else except yourself. If you do decide to favour me with one, I shall be delighted to come, provided Margaret has no objection."

"Such a reservation promises well for the future," Sir Timothy observed, with gentle sarcasm. "Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad to see."

Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car.

They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose interest in their relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that he could detect signs of some change in their demeanour towards one another. The cold propriety of deportment which had characterised her former att.i.tude towards her father, seemed to have given place to something more uncertain, to something less formal, something which left room even for a measure of cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though some evil thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished.

"You are busy over there, father?" she asked.

"In a way," he replied. "We are preparing for some festivities on Thursday."

Her face fell.

"Another party?"

"One more," he replied. "Perhaps the last--for the present, at any rate."

She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject, however.

"I think you are wise to run up to town this morning," he said, glancing up at the grey skies. "By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon Street to-night, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A marvellous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk.

Au revoir!"

Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged with Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or two that afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came face to face with Shopland descending from a taxi.

"Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?" the latter enquired. "Can you spare me half-an-hour?"

"An hour, if you like," Francis a.s.sented.

Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated themselves in the taxicab.

"Any news?" Francis asked curiously.

"Not yet," was the cautious reply. "It will not be long, however."

"Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?"

The detective smiled in a superior way.

"I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore," he declared. "I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a serious affair."

"It's serious enough for his relatives," Francis objected.

"Not if they understood the situation," the detective rejoined. "a.s.sure them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to that young man. I have made enquiries at the gymnasium in Holborn, and in other directions. I am convinced that his absence from home is voluntary, and that there is no cause for alarm as to his welfare."

"Then the sooner you make your way down to Kensington and tell his mother so, the better," Francis said, a little severely. "Don't forget that I put you on to this."