Anthony Lyveden Part 60

Valerie put up her mouth.

Nineteen days had slipped by--careless, halcyon days, the matchless morning of a golden festival.

Jack and Jill were beyond imagination happy.

Lyveden had been prevailed upon to stay in Hamps.h.i.+re, and when he must visit London, to return the same night. I am not certain that these days were not the best of all. Valerie saw him off in the morning: the two had all day to think upon their state; his home-coming at even delivered a perfect reverie.

The last of these flying visits must be recorded, for it was unlike its fellows, and, though I cannot answer for Lyveden, Valerie will remember it always.

There is no doubt at all that Anthony was growing quite accustomed to the liberal atmosphere of Lincoln's Inn Fields. As he bent his steps westward, he found the huge square admirable. For comfortable dignity, no other square he could remember compared with it. This, he decided, was because its sides were not too high for its area. London, as a whole, had grown up. Had she grown outward instead, perhaps... He remembered suddenly that she had grown outward as well--out of all conscience, since Pepys had taken pleasure in Lincoln's Inn Fields.

With a contented sigh Lyveden reflected that by nine-thirty that evening he would be back at Bell Hammer. The sweet smell of the country, the song of the wind in tree-tops--above all, the abundance of cool soft air, seemed to have become essential to his life. For the present, at any rate, he had no use for Town. It choked him. He was glad, however, that his solicitor's office was in Lincoln's Inn Fields....

Some clock announced the hour--a quarter to four. The ex-officer quickened his pace. Savile Row had to be visited, and Pall Mall. Most important of all, a coupe had to be proved.... Anthony's heart beat faster. The car was for Valerie.

As he left Kingsway behind, the gross belch of an 'Alarum' demanded pa.s.sage. Anthony fell to wondering whether his sweet would not prefer some other usher. An 'Alarum' got there, of course; but it was Rabelaisian. Perhaps ...

The sound of a collision between two pedestrians disturbed his musing.

It was nothing. Chin on shoulder, an errand-boy had collided with a man in a silk hat. Anthony was so close to the latter he could have touched him.

The boy muttered an apology, and the man laughed.

"My fault as much as yours," he said lazily, and pa.s.sed on.

It was Dr. Heron.

Anthony reeled against the wall.

Observing his movement, two typists squeaked with pretended alarm, and then, giving him a wide berth, lurched on, convulsed with mirth and clutching one another.

To the poor woman who approached him and asked if he were ill, Anthony at first said nothing at all. Then he replied dazedly that he was "all right," and moved uncertainly away.

Arrived at the corner of Drury Lane, he hesitated, looking round helplessly, as if he were not sure of his way. Immediately opposite, a large efficient-looking ironmonger's shop presented a plain, well-kept, _familiar_ face....

Anthony stared at it with a dropped jaw.

The errand-boy, who had found his demeanour promising, and had been loitering in the hope of developments, took up a good position in the gutter and fairly drank Lyveden in. Almost at once another of his species joined him.

After a prolonged stare--

"Wot's 'e doin' of?" said the new-comer. "Sayin' 'is prares?"

The other sn.i.g.g.e.red.

The noise aroused Anthony. With an effort he straightened himself....

Then he walked unsteadily across the street and into the shop.

The manager came forward.

"Have those mattocks come in?"

For a second the man peered at him. Then--

"Oh, Major Lyveden, isn't it? Yes, sir. Six 'Lightnin'' mattocks, it was. I sent you a card, sir, three weeks ago. I've got the six on one side for you, sir."

"I'll take them now."

"Certainly, sir." He turned to an a.s.sistant and gave directions.

Then: "Excuse me, sir. Jim!"

A boy came at a run.

"Fetch me that envelope off of the top o' my blottin'-pad. It's pinned there." He turned to Lyveden. "When you was 'ere last time, sir, you dropped your ticket. I kept it by, in case you come in again, thinkin'

you might be glad of it. It ain't six months yet, sir, since you was 'ere, so it's still good."

A moment later Lyveden was looking fixedly at the return half of a third-cla.s.s ticket which had been issued at Chipping Norton.

"Thanks," he said slowly, slipping it into his pocket. "I'm much obliged."

He paid for the goods and waited whilst a taxi was fetched.

Then he followed the mattocks into the cab, and told the surly driver to go to Paddington....

Five hours later he staggered, rather than walked, along the wasted track and up to the cottage door.

There had been no man to meet him, and the mattocks had made their weight felt after the first two miles. He laid them down thankfully.

For a moment he looked about him.

Behind him--over towards Girdle--the sun had just gone down. And Gramarye ... Gramarye had never looked one half so beautiful.... All her hard lines were gone. Every sacred twig of her had put on a wedding garment. The wild mystery of the place had been exquisitely veiled. The majesty of desolation was in full dress. Far as the eye could reach, the toss of the glorious woods had become unspeakably enriched... maddening....

His eyes glittering, Lyveden hugged himself in a paroxysm of glee. The man was just gloating....

Then he strode to the wood-shed.

"Well, Patch," he said cheerily. "Has Patch been a good little----"

The sentence snapped off short.

For a moment Anthony stared at the empty staple.

Then he turned on his heel.

"Patch!" he cried sharply. "Patch!"

After listening intently for a moment, he stepped hastily on to the wasted track and began to whistle....