The Secret of the Silver Car Part 10

"Before?" There was no doubt now as to Grenvil's perturbation.

"Cut that out," Trent commanded angrily. "You did it very well, but I'm sick and tired of fencing. What are you going to do about it?"

He was sure now that the other was frightened. That the emotion of fear did not bring anger in its train amazed Trent.

"Leave you to realize your mistake," Grenvil said after a pause. Then with a sharp stroke he sent the willow root ball spinning in the direction of the castle, and followed it on his swift mount.

The horse that Trent had bought from John Treleaven the farmer was a half bred, a good, weight-carrying nag, a fine jumper, but not equal to the task of overtaking the chestnut thoroughbred. There was nothing to do but pursue Grenvil into the castle grounds or give up the chase.

Angry because he could not judge in what degree of peril if any, he stood, Anthony Trent rode back to the farm.

CHAPTER FIVE

_THE MAN WHO DENIED_

Thinking things over that night as he walked along the Camel banks and disturbed the otters at play, Anthony Trent determined to call upon Arthur Grenvil and force him to acknowledge that he had not forgotten the conversation, the confidence that was so fully given, in the dug-out.

Footmen and a butler barred his ingress. They were polite and filled with regrets but the facts remained that Mr. Arthur Grenvil by doctor's orders saw none. The Lady Daphne was engaged. The men-servants could offer him no hope. He was able to see at close range some advantages of the many servants the rich were able to employ to hedge them about with privacy. The Rosecarrel butler was less urbane than his brother at Alderwood and the opportunity for private conversation was lacking.

Trent saw in this rebuff another move in the subtle game Private Arthur Smith was playing.

The next two days were spent in riding over the moors but not a glimpse of Lady Daphne or her brother did he get. He was certain they were avoiding him deliberately. The idea possessed Trent that Arthur Grenvil was not satisfied to obtain merely the rewards that were offered for his apprehension. If he followed the great thefts of the world he would know that four of its most famous stones were still missing. And from Trent's confession he would guess the master criminal still held them.

They were even now in Trent's Maine camp ornamenting a bra.s.s Benares lamp as though they were merely the original pieces of gla.s.s that had occupied the s.p.a.ces when Trent purchased it. Trent could sell through discreet sources the loot that was hidden in Kennebago for not less than half a million dollars. If Arthur Grenvil chose to command him to do so and share the proceeds what could he do? The hold he had on the other man was slight. Langley might have extorted the confession more as a warning than an instrument to use against a relative. In the two other cases to which Arthur Grenvil had confessed his creditors were those who had been his friends. He had embezzled the mess funds of his regiment.

It was unlikely that a cavalry regiment which had fought from Dettingen to Mons would like a story of that sort to get abroad.

On the morning of the third day after his rebuff at the hands of the footmen Trent made up his mind. He would see Arthur Grenvil and see him at once. "If he thinks he can keep me out," said Trent his mouth tightening to a narrow line, "he holds me too cheap."

It happened that Arthur Grenvil knew nothing of the attempt of Anthony Trent to see him. The doctors had indeed ordered him rest. Lady Daphne when she heard of Trent's insistence said nothing but wondered why it was that he should make the attempt. She still thought uneasily of that night at Dereham when he had discovered her with the combination to her host's safe. There was such a thing as blackmail and, after all what did she know of the American except that he had been a guest of the Langleys. In itself this should have been enough to vouch for his position in life.

She found herself more interested in Anthony Trent than in any man she had ever met. And it was because of this concern that in a letter to Alicia Langley she asked about him.

Alicia's letter was astonis.h.i.+ng. "I can't imagine, my dear Daphne to whom you refer. There was no Anthony Trent here on the first. The only American was Mr. Conington Warren who was wafted to our sh.o.r.es permanently on the waves of prohibition. I think you knew personally every other man except the Duke of Valladolida. He is, of course, a grandee of Spain, short, slight and bald, but a first rate shot, Reginald says, and plays polo for the Madrid team. Certainly there was no tall, clean-shaven, good-looking man here whom you don't know quite well." Alicia Langley invariably added postscripts. This time it interested the reader more than the letter. "I showed your letter to Reginald and he was almost excited. He said an Anthony Trent had motored over from Norwich and wanted to learn particulars of a private in his regiment. As the private in question was Arthur you may draw your own inferences if you can. Reginald refused to speak so this Trent man of yours doesn't know Arthur's _nom de guerre_ from anything he has learned here. Reginald wants you to tell him where you met the man. Please do as he seems to think it very serious."

While Lady Daphne read this communication, not without agitation, her brother was dressing for dinner. Some people were coming over from Pencarrow. He occupied two splendid rooms facing west and was looking over the moorland to the sea when the handle of the room leading to a large upper hall was opened noiselessly and admitted Anthony Trent. When Grenvil remembered he had not long to make the change from flannels into evening dress, he turned about to see the American sitting in a comfortable chair.

"Please don't try and ring for the servants," Trent advised smoothly, "because I am nearest to the bell and I shall not permit it."

If he expected an outbreak of anger he was disappointed. Instead there was that puzzled expression which could only arise from innocence of Trent's ident.i.ty or the most finished art.

"Don't think I am a housebreaker," Trent went on equably, "I am not.

This is visitors day if you remember and after paying my s.h.i.+lling I looked at the state rooms, pictures and autograph letters and fell asleep. When I woke up I entered this room by mistake."

"And you want to find your way out?" Grenvil returned. "If you will ring the bell I will have you shown."

"Not until I have had the opportunity of talking a little to you. In our first conversation I was indiscreet. You will admit that, won't you?"

"Were you?" Grenvil answered vaguely. "I really don't remember Mr.

Trent."

"Then you deny ever having seen me until we met by the salmon pool a few days ago?" Trent looked at him like a hawk.

"I do," Grenvil retorted.

"Then if you do, why don't you resent my b.u.t.ting in like this? Why don't you call some men-servants and have me flung out for a d.a.m.ned nuisance?

Say I threatened you, say anything an innocent man could and would say.

Your att.i.tude doesn't fool me in the least. You are playing a deep game but I can play a deeper."

Grenvil shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of weariness. "There are many things I cannot explain," he said.

"You are going to begin right now," Trent said. He was not in a mood to be trifled with. He firmly believed that this man was planning to send him to gaol for a period of years so long that he would come out a whitehaired broken man.

He looked round frowning as steps sounded along the corridor and a tap came on the door.

"Let me in Arthur," he heard Lady Daphne say, "I've had a most extraordinary letter from Aunt Alicia. I must see you about it."

She rattled the locked door impatiently. Her brother walked over to it.

Trent could offer no objection. He was confused and annoyed that at a moment such as this the girl must interrupt. To Anthony Trent she was as one above and apart. There was no use in concealing that he himself was a crook no matter how differently he pursued the profession from the lesser lights whom he despised. And Arthur Grenvil was as crooked as he with less excuse for it.

Lady Daphne stopped short when she saw Trent rise from his chair and bow. Her greeting was so wholly different from the friendly manner she had shown ere this, that he was at loss to understand it. He did not know that Mrs. Langley was the Aunt Alicia. He could only suppose her brother had hinted that he was not what he seemed.

"I was not told you were here," she said.

"I'm glad you've come," Arthur Grenvil said. Trent could see that he only spoke the truth. From what did he expect his sister to protect him.

"Mr. Trent here has an idea I'm deliberately pretending not to know who he is."

"I a.s.sure Mr. Trent," she said haughtily, "that at all events I know what _he_ is."

Trent looked at her a little quizzically.

"I wonder if you really do," he commented.

"I shall be very glad to prove it," she answered, "but I am not anxious that my brother should have to listen. I hoped you understood that he is under the doctors' orders and must not be worried. As dinner is almost ready and I have several things to do will you be kind enough to put this discussion off until tomorrow morning?"

"Just as you please," he said. "When and where?"

"You are staying at the Ba.s.setts I think. Very well I will drive over there tomorrow at half past ten."

He flushed. The inference was plain. He was not permitted to meet her within the castle. The servant who showed him out seemed to feel differently today. He felt outcast.

There was a little apple orchard behind the Ba.s.setts' stone built barns where each day Anthony Trent used to practise short approaches with a favorite mas.h.i.+e. He held it as an axiom that if a golfer kept his hand in with short mas.h.i.+e practise he would never be off his game. He was industriously trying to approach over a tall spreading tree when he heard the sound of wheels outside. It was not yet time for his appointment with Lady Daphne but he could see from the higher ground of the orchard that it was she. She was driving a das.h.i.+ng pair of chestnuts to a mail phaeton. By her side sat a man with a powerful unscrupulous face who was evidently amusing her by his conversation. Trent supposed he was a guest at the castle, some man who had the right to meet her by reason of being on the right side of the law.

Almost jealously Anthony Trent saw him help her to alight. He was a heavily built man but not an ungraceful one and he was exceedingly well dressed. Trent judged him to be five and forty and used to dominating men. He had noticed often that men most ruthless with their fellows have the most charming ways with women.