The Brother of Daphne Part 49

Then I took a five-pound note from my case and slipped it into the envelope. I addressed the latter, and put it with the two letters and the telegram on the dressing-table.

On my way indoors and upstairs I had encountered no one. Incidentally, I should not have minded if I had. But now it was a very different matter. Mentally and physically the luggage embarra.s.sed me. My appearance proclaimed an exodus--suggested a flight. Of course, if I did meet a servant, I should try and bluff my way out; but---- There was no doubt about it this was one of the tighter places.

I lighted a cigarette. Then I put the parasol under my arm and opened the door. Not a sound. I picked up her bag and my case, and started.

I am sure there is not another edifice in England with so many creaking boards. They shrieked beneath me at every step. At the top of the stairs I put down the luggage and listened carefully. As yet there were no lights burning, and it was more than dusk in the hall below. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, and began the descent. At the bottom I ran into the footman. He was very nice about it, though I am certain the dressing-case bruised his s.h.i.+n. Then:

"Excuse me, sir," he said, and switched on the light.

And with the light came the brain-wave.

"I want the car at once," I said. "There's been some terrible mistake.

This isn't our luggage. I don't know whose it is. The label on this bag says 'Whinnerley Hall', and that's not my dressing-case. I'm not even sure that this is her ladys.h.i.+p's parasol."

"Not--not yours, sir?"

"Certainly not. Beastly things." I flung them down in the hall.

"Never seen them before in my life. Order the car, man; order the car.

I want to take them back to the station and find out what's become of our own."

The footman fled. When the housekeeper appeared, breathless, I was sitting on a table, swinging the parasol and smoking angrily.

"Is the car coming?" I demanded.

"Yes, indeed, sir. It'll be round in a moment. What a dreadful thing to have happened, sir. I can't understand--"

"Neither can I, except that they're both something like our things.

But look at that label. This isn't Whinnerley Hall, is it?"

"No, indeed, sir."

"Well, have them put in the car. I'll go and find her ladys.h.i.+p. I'm afraid she'll be terribly upset."

I flung out of the house. Thirty seconds later I was explaining things to an open-mouthed girl in the arbour. As I finished, I heard the car coming round from the garage.

"Come along, dear." I glanced at my watch. "With any luck we shall just catch the seven-ten on to Whinnerley. Remember, you're terribly upset and simply frantic about your jewellery, especially the tiara Uncle George gave you. Do you think you could cry? I should have to kiss you then."

Again the faint smile. The next minute we were in the car, rus.h.i.+ng down the avenue. There was the white banner, hanging very still now, for the faint breeze had died with the day. As we approached the lodge gates I leaned forward and looked across her--she was on my right--looked away over the park to where the sun had set. The sky was flaming.

"Sic transit," said I.

"Good-bye, backwater," said she.

Her voice was not unsteady, but there was that in her tone that made me look at her. Her lashes were wet.

As the car swung out of the gates, our hands touched. I took hers in mine and held it. Then I started. It was the left hand, but there was no ring upon its fingers. I tightened my hold. So we sat for two minutes or more. Then:

"Do you think they would see?" I said, glancing at the chauffeur and groom.

"I'm afraid they might. But--"

"But what, darling?"

"It wouldn't matter very much if they did, would it?"

We reached the station simultaneously with the seven ten. As the groom opened the door--

"Come along, dear." I handed her out. Turning to the servant, "Bring the bag and the dressing--case," I added. "Quick!"

"Yes, sir."

A small boy waved an implement and uttered a feeble protest about tickets, but we thrust past him on to the platform. There I looked round wildly.

"Where's Delphine?" I cried.

"I don't believe she's come," wailed my companion.

I turned to the groom.

"You'd better go back," I said. "Put those things down and go back to the car, in case we miss her ladys.h.i.+p's maid. Don't let her go off in the wagonette."

"Very good, sir."

He put the luggage on a seat and ran back to the exit. Exactly opposite to where we were standing was a first-cla.s.s carriage. As the guard's whistle was blown:

"Have you got my bag, Peter?" said a plaintive voice.

"Yes, m'dear," and Sir Peter and Lady Tagel pa.s.sed down the platform.

We watched them greedily.

The train began to move.

"The last lap," said Berry. "Courage, my travel-stained comrades.

Where was it we broke down? Oh, yes, Scrota Gruff. Such a sweet name, so full of promise, so--"

Then he took his head in and pulled up the window.

"Fancy you two being in the next carriage all the time," said Daphne.

"I expect Boy's introduced himself, Julia dear. Yes, I thought so.

Still for what it's worth, my brother--Lady Julia Lory."

Which is why she's 'my lady'. Though she always says it isn't.

CHAPTER X