What a Man Wills Part 20

"I must ask you to wait for us here for a few minutes," he said courteously. "We will not keep you longer than is necessary. I am sorry that I cannot offer you a chair. This house is, as you see, unfurnished."

Lessing did not condescend to reply. He hailed the departure of the two men as giving him an opportunity to examine his surroundings and find a possible way of escape. The room was on the ground floor, the windows were unbarred, surely then it would be easy.

The next moment the blood rushed to his face, as his ears caught the turn of a rusty key, followed by the drawing of a bolt, and hurrying across the floor he found that the door leading into the pa.s.sage had been doubly secured. The two men were determined to keep him a prisoner while they waited for the appearance of one who was evidently their chief; he could hear their footsteps ascending the stairs, tramping over the bare floors above; once and again the sound of the long thrice-repeated whistle came to his ears, but to his relief there came no answer to the signal.

Lessing stood with his ears to the c.h.i.n.k of the door listening intently. Presently he heard the two men descend to the hall, linger for a minute as if undecided, then pa.s.s out of the front door.

Another minute and a new sound broke the stillness; he listened acutely, and had little difficulty in divining its meaning; the men were endeavouring to move the car out of the rut, so that at any moment it might be ready to bear them away.

Instantly Lessing darted to the nearer of the two windows, and looking out experienced an unwelcome surprise. The house was evidently built on shelving ground, for though the room in which he stood was level with the entrance, it was yet raised by a good twenty feet from the ground at the back. Now twenty feet is not a great depth, but it is too far for a man to drop without risk of at least spraining an ankle, and thereby leaving himself helpless in the hands of his enemies, especially when, as was the case in this instance, the ground is paved with rough, uneven flags. Lessing drew back in disgust, and darted to the window on the farther end of the room. Here, if anything, the drop was greater, but the position was improved, inasmuch as a tangle of gra.s.s took the place of the jagged flags. The window was of the old-fas.h.i.+oned cas.e.m.e.nt description, and to prise open the rusty latch was no light task even for strong fingers, but it was done at last, and Lessing hung forward, listening breathlessly to the sounds from the front of the house. The car was evidently still refusing to budge; he could hear the voice of the chauffeur instructing the man in the brown coat as to his share in the work, and the thud of the engine as once and again it strained to the task.

Now was his time, while the two men were engaged; while as yet the third man had not appeared! Lessing hung out of the window, his eyes sweeping the wall to right and left. He had a strong head, and given so much as a drain pipe would have no hesitation in essaying the descent, but the ma.s.s of ivy hid everything from view. Lessing hoisted himself on the window-sill, and creeping first to one side and then the other, groped among the leaves. He found no pipe, but a moment's searching discovered what was quite as useful for his purpose, a central branch of the ivy itself, thick as a man's fist, strong enough to support a dozen climbers. Lessing gave himself no time to think, but lowered himself from the sill, grasped the branch in both hands, and began his descent. It was not as easy as he had expected, for the branch scalloped along the walls, in a somewhat disconcerting manner, but given a steady head, and a body in reasonable training, there were no serious difficulties to encounter, and a point was soon reached when he could relax his hold, and drop softly to the ground.

So far all had gone with almost incredible ease, but Lessing was aware that he was not yet out of the wood. At any moment his escape might be discovered, and his pursuers would have a double advantage in their possession of the car and their knowledge of the country itself. It was the work of a few minutes to dart down the overgrown path, scale the wall at the end of the garden, and drop upon the gra.s.s below, but the next step was more difficult to decide. Looking around him he perceived a white roadway curling like a ribbon round a sweep of meadow land, and realised how easily his escape might be cut off. It flashed into his mind that his best chance was to lie low until his pursuers had started on their chase, and even as the thought pa.s.sed through his brain, his eye fell on a straggling growth of barberry against the outer side of the wall he had just scaled. The bushes were small and by no means thick, so that at first sight they offered no promise of shelter, but on further examination Lessing discovered that the ground between them and the wall was hollowed to the depth of a foot or more, and covered with a ma.s.s of tall gra.s.ses. Here, then, was an ideal hiding-place, where he could lie low and know all that was happening around.

Without a moment's hesitation Lessing laid himself down in the hollow, pressing back the gra.s.ses that he might creep close to the shelter of the wall, then allowing them to spring back to their original position. His tweed suit was of a nondescript tint, the shade least likely to catch the eye, but for greater safety he picked handfuls of leaves and gra.s.s, and scattered them over his clothes, then lying flat with face hidden on his folded arms, he awaited the discovery of his escape.

He had time to grow cramped and chill before the sound of loud raised voices and the heavy tramp of feet over wooden floors warned him that the search had begun. Almost immediately afterwards someone came racing down the garden path, circled round once and again, and finally clambered to the top of the wall, to obtain a view over the outlying country. Lessing knew by the distinctness of the sound that the ascent had been made at but a short distance from where he lay, and the knowledge sent a chill through his blood. It had not occurred to him that his hiding-place could be viewed from above, and he waited in the keenest suspense, prepared to take to his feet and make a dash for it, at the first hint of discovery. But the man on the wall made no such sign. He breathed in short, gasping breaths, as a man would breathe under stress of agitation, and between his breaths once and again he sent out the old whistling summons, then scrambling, clutching, he fell back into the garden, and again raced to and fro among the curving paths.

For the next ten minutes the sounds of the search continued to reach Lessing's ears, then came the welcome thudding of the engine, as the car swept out of the gate, showing that the men had abandoned the search of the premises. Another ten minutes, and the thudding sounded again, but from another direction, and peering cautiously between the branches, Lessing could watch the car approach down the long curve of the road encircling the meadows. It was running slowly now, its occupants no doubt engaged in searching the flat stretch of land, making sure of one direction after another in which their prisoner could not have escaped. Presently it turned and slowly traversed the same s.p.a.ce, before it finally returned to the high road and disappeared from sight.

The dusk had fallen before Lessing crept out of his hiding-place, and dragged his stiffened limbs across the meadows. He had determined to avoid the highways, and so wandered on without any idea of the direction in which he was going, but after half an hour's walking, to his joy and relief he struck a railway line, and following it soon arrived at a country station.

At ten o'clock that night Lessing let himself into his rooms, dusty, dirty, incredibly fatigued, the poorer by the loss of a bag containing two quite admirable suits of clothes, but full of thankfulness and relief.

For once at least he had beaten the Brethren on their own ground!

"It's no good pretending. It's no good trying to deceive me. You _are_ changed!" Delia declared, nodding her pretty head with solemn emphasis. "You are changing more and more every single day. And it doesn't suit you. Hollows in the cheeks! What business has a man of thirty with hollows in his cheeks? And a different expression in your eyes. Worried, absent, scared. Valentine Lessing,--what have you been and gone and done?"

Lessing was seated once more in the delightfully homely room at the corner house, enjoying the rare treat of a _tete-a-tete_ with Delia.

The men of the family were out, and two minutes before the maid had announced "Mrs Wright from the District," and "Could the mistress possibly see her?" whereupon Mrs Gordon had sighed, and said: "He is out of work again, and she _is_ such a talker! Delia, dear, will you go? Give her half-a-crown, and say I'm tired." But Delia, as a rule the most helpful of daughters, resolutely refused.

"No, mother; it's your duty. The vicar says you give far too much.

It's pandering, and makes it hard for the other visitors. Besides, I'd _never_ get rid of her! Be a good, brave lady, and do your duty."

So Mrs Gordon had departed, when Delia immediately turned to Lessing, and announced triumphantly:

"She won't be back for a good half-hour! I've been longing for a chance of talking to you alone," and proceeded to cross-question as before stated. "Yes, you _are_ scared." Delia repeated. "When anyone enters the room suddenly you jump and look round as if you expected to see a policeman and a pair of handcuffs. It makes me quite nervous even to watch you. And," her voice sank to a deeper note, "you look ill, Val! _What is it_?"

Lessing bent forward in his chair, his hands clasped loosely together between his knees; there was a look in his eyes which brought the colour surging into Delia's cheeks.

"I can tell you honestly, Delia, that I have done nothing to make me fear a policeman or handcuffs, but--I _am_ worried!" For a pa.s.sing moment he struggled with the temptation to confess the truth, but this point had been mentally argued time and again, always with the same conclusion. To confide his story would be to include his confidante in his own danger, since it was hardly possible that he would not feel called upon to take active steps against the Brethren. "I can't tell you the why and wherefore, I wish I could, but I can a.s.sure you that I have no cause to be ashamed."

"Oh, bother ashamed!" cried Delia hotly. "_Why_ are you scared? Has anyone been--er--nasty to you, Val? A man in the office--jealous of you because you have got on so well. Forged a cheque and pretended it was you, or put money in your drawer like they do in books, you know, when they have a grudge? Is it something like that, and you are afraid in case they suspect you and send you away?"

The words were so deliciously naive and girlish that Lessing was obliged to laugh; they were also so transparently eloquent of the speaker's interest and concern for himself that a great pang rent his heart at the vision of life as it might be. Life with Delia--with Delia's children, a happy, breezy, family life, repeating the atmosphere of the corner house in some flowery suburban cottage. Oh, how good it seemed, how full and satisfying! What a joy to a tired man to have that haven to which to return at the close of his day's work. Time had been when he had scoffed at the smug security of suburban life; had pitied the lot of the man who spent his evenings playing with his children and mowing a miniature lawn, but in the light of the last month's experience, he asked nothing better of fate than to find himself in a precisely similar position.

"No, Delia, no!" he cried ardently, "there is no business trouble.

It's--er--something outside. Don't speak of it, please. I want to tell you, and I ought not. It's dear and sweet of you to care. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me the last few weeks, just to be able--"

Delia interrupted hurriedly, after the manner of young women who ardently long to hear a declaration of love, yet take fright at the first symptom of its approach.

"Anyway," she said decisively, "you have _got_ to come to the cottage over Whitsuntide. I insist upon it, so it's no use trying to escape.

Three whole days in the country will steady your nerves. It's not at all _comme il faut_ for a director to have jumpy nerves. If I were a shareholder I'd sell out at once. You will travel down with us on Friday afternoon, and stay as long as you can the next week.

Understand?"

Lessing thankfully accepted the invitation, which was duly confirmed by Mrs Gordon upon her return to the sitting-room, and a week later he arrived at the week-end cottage, after a safe and comfortable journey in the company of his cheerful friends.

During that week only one disquieting incident had happened, but that was ominous enough. A typed envelope lying among other letters on the breakfast-table was left carelessly until the others had been read and digested, and then torn open with the scant courtesy shown to notes of the circular type; but the folded slip bore no printed words, and as Lessing jerked it apart there floated downward on to the carpet a thin powdery stream, at sight of which the blood mounted in his face.

Moistening one finger, he bent and applied the tip to the scattered grains, then lifted it to his lips. Salt! There was no mistaking the sharp clean savour, and on a corner of the paper he beheld the rough amateur drawing of a knife.

The Brethren had sent him a reminder that they were still waiting for their revenge!

That year Whitsuntide fell in a spell of warm and settled weather, and a more charming retreat than the Gordons' week-end cottage it would be difficult to find. The house was a type of simple comfort, the garden a delicious riot of colour and fragrance. None of the Gordons knew anything about the science of gardening, but they considered it "fun"

to attend to their own garden, sent wholesale orders to advertising seedsmen, and begged shamelessly from gardening friends. The friends responded with sacks of mysterious-looking roots which the Gordons proceeded to plump indiscriminately into the first vacant s.p.a.ce which came handy. Everything flourished, for the soil was new and rich, and the sun blazed upon it from morning till night; and the result was as delightful as it was unorthodox.

After a day spent in the cottage, Lessing began to feel that the happenings of the last weeks must surely be the creation of his own brain. The mental atmosphere by which he was surrounded was so kindly and wholesome, so pre-eminently _sane_, that, in contrast, the wild deeds of the Brethren seemed more the vagaries of a dream than cold actual fact. Most thankfully he accepted the peaceful breathing s.p.a.ce, and for the first time since the incident of the spilling of the salt went about his way free from apprehension. It seemed to him in the last degree unlikely that the Brethren would choose a time when he was in close contact with friends for the execution of their revenge.

Lessing had made a compact with himself that under no circ.u.mstances would he speak of love to Delia Gordon. He knew now that he had loved her for years, he realised that under his present circ.u.mstances it would be a despicable act to seek to bind her in any way, but, with the extraordinary logic practised by men in affairs of the heart, he believed that so long as he refrained from an actual declaration he was acting as an honourable man. It did not occur to him that in the event of his own sudden death a woman who loved him would find her best comfort in the knowledge that her love had been returned!

But the days pa.s.sed pleasantly. Mr and Mrs Gordon were the kindest of hosts, Terence showed himself at his best, and Delia, in her light dresses and flower-wreathed hats, was the most tantalisingly pretty creature in the world. Lessing found it very difficult to keep his resolve as he sat by her side in a summer-house situated at a discreet distance from the house, and screened by the thick belt of trees which formed the end of the shrubbery; and, if the truth is to be told, Delia intended him to find it difficult, and made special play with her eyelashes to that effect. Val was looking infinitely better, but when he returned to town that tiresome "worry" would begin again, and she wanted, as any nice, right-minded girl would have wanted, to have the right to comfort and support.

"So sorry you can't stay over to-morrow! It's so stupid to rush back to town just when you are beginning to get good. Why can't you make a week of it while you are here? Only three more days."

"I'm afraid I can't. It's been awfully jolly. I've enjoyed every minute of the time, but--er--I don't think I ought. Business, you know!"

Delia was annoyed, and showed it.

"Awfully boring it must be, to be a City man," said she with her nose in the air. "Always having to keep your nose to the grind. That's why I like army men. You can depend upon them. I shall telegraph to Captain Rawle, and ask him to take your place. He'll jump at it."

"Conceited a.s.s!" muttered Lessing under his breath. He looked at Delia and saw beneath her pretence of indifference a mistiness of eye, a tremor at the corner of the lips, the meaning of which was plain even to his obtuse masculine senses, and at the sight his prudence fled to the winds.

"Delia!" he cried rapturously. "Delia! Oh, my darling, do you mean to say that you _care_? Delia, does it matter to you whether I go or stay? Do you really, really mean to say--"

"I--I didn't say anything--I--I--_of course_, I care! Oh, Val, you _are_ stupid!" cried Delia, putting up two white hands to hide an exceedingly red face. Val knew a rapturous moment as he bent to take those hands in his, but, even as he moved, a warning rustle sounded from the bushes ahead, and he straightened himself in expectation of the advent of an intruder. And then, at that moment, with a spasm of fear freezing his hot blood, he saw once more the face of his enemy.

While one might have counted six, it glared at him from between the branches--the swarthy, bearded face, with the tufted eyebrows, and the strong, protuberant teeth. For six long seconds the eyes gazed mockingly into his own.

Poor palpitating Delia, peeping between her fingers, beheld her lover of a moment transformed into a stricken, grey-faced man, who sat huddled up on his seat, staring before him with a gaze of helpless despair. There was no more blus.h.i.+ng and trembling after that--Delia simply wrapped her arms round his neck, and crooned over him with tender, loving words.

"Val, my own Val. What is it? I'm here. Delia's here. n.o.body shall hurt you, dearest; no one shall harm you. Delia's here. Look at me, Val--my own, own Val!"

The words pierced. Through all the horror and the fear, their sweetness reached to the brain, and turned the current of his thoughts. One look he gave her, a look of pa.s.sionate grat.i.tude and love, then to her utter bewilderment he lifted her to her feet and drew her to the entrance of the summer-house.

"Go, darling--go! Go quickly! You can help me best that way. Go quickly!"

Delia stared at him, and a sudden explanation leaped into her brain.

Heart disease! Val had discovered that his heart was affected, that was the reason of his changed looks. At the moment he was threatened with a spasm of pain, and man-like preferred to be alone. Obediently Delia walked away, her heart torn with sympathy. But when they were married she would take such good care of him, such incessant, all-encompa.s.sing care, that he must, he should get well!

Lessing watched her go, and then deliberately moved a chair to the centre of the entrance to the summer-house, seated himself astride, and bent his head on the rail.