Mr. Marx's Secret Part 11

"Philip, I did not know that you were here. I cannot talk to you now. Go to your room. To-morrow--to-morrow!"

Her voice died away, but her sudden weakness inspired me with no hope, for it was a physical weakness only. There were no signs of softening in her face, no answering tenderness in her tones. So what could I do but go?

CHAPTER XIV.

A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.

It was eleven o'clock on the following morning. I had been reading in the garden for some time, and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate, and Mr. Ravenor's servant--the man who had conducted me from the lodge to the Castle--was shown into the house. I went to him at once and he handed me a note.

"Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir," he said respectfully.

I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox commencement):

"Before going to Dr. Randall's there are a few things which you are not likely to have which you will find necessary. Remember that it is part of the education which I intend for you that you should a.s.sociate with the other pupils on equal terms. Therefore, be so good as to go into Torchester with Reynolds and place yourself entirely in his hands. He has my full instructions.--R."

I folded the note up and put it into my pocket.

"Am I to come with you now?" I asked.

"If you please, sir."

I went upstairs to get ready and in a few minutes was prepared to start.

The groom offered me the reins, but I declined them and mounted instead to the vacant seat by his side, which Reynolds had silently relinquished to me.

Torchester was scarcely a dozen miles from the farm, but, nevertheless, this was my first visit to it. Many a time I had looked down from Beacon Hill upon the wide-spreading, dirty-coloured cloud of smoke from its tall factory chimneys, which seemed like a marring blot upon the fair, peaceful stretch of country around, and by night at the dull red glow in the sky and the myriads of twinkling lights which showed me where it stood. But neither by day nor night had the scene been an attractive one for me. I had felt no curiosity to enter it. I had never even cared to figure to myself what it would be like.

So now, for the first time in my life, I found myself driving through the streets of a large manufacturing town. It was the dinner-hour and on all sides the factories were disgorging streams of unhealthy-looking men and women and even children. The tramcars and omnibuses were crowded, the busy streets were lined with swiftly rolling carriages, smart-looking men, and gaily-dressed girls and women. Within a few yards I saw types of men and women so different that it seemed impossible that they could be of the same species.

"This is the 'Bell,' sir, where we generally put up," remarked Reynolds, at my elbow. "You will have some lunch, sir, before we go into the town?"

I shook my head, but he was quietly though respectfully insistent. So I let him have his way and allowed myself to be piloted into a long, dark coffee-room, where my orders, considerably augmented by Reynolds in transit, were received by a waiter whom we discovered fast asleep in an easy-chair, and who seemed very much surprised to see us.

Afterwards we went out in the town, Reynolds and I, and began our shopping. I was measured at the princ.i.p.al tailor's for more clothes than it seemed possible for me to wear out in a lifetime, from riding-breeches to a dress-coat; and the quant.i.ty and variety of hats, boots, s.h.i.+rts, and ties which Reynolds put down as indispensable filled me with half-amused astonishment, although I had made up my mind to be surprised at nothing.

But our shopping was not finished even when Reynolds, to my inexpressible relief, declared my wardrobe to be as complete as could be furnished by a provincial town. The gunsmith's, the sporting emporium, and the horse-repository were all visited in turn. And when we returned to the hotel about six o'clock I was the possessor of two guns, which were a perfect revelation to me, a cricket-bat, a tennis racquet, a small gymnasium, a set of foils, and, besides other things, a stylish, well-built dogcart and a sound, useful cob.

I sank into an easy-chair in the coffee-room and, refusing to listen to Reynold's suggestion as to the propriety of dining before setting out homewards, ordered a cup of tea. While the waiter had left the room to fetch it I strolled to the window to look out at the weather, which had been threatening for some time and on my way I discovered that I was not alone in the apartment. A man was seated at one of the further-most tables, dining, and as I pa.s.sed he looked up and surveyed me with a cool, critical stare, which changed suddenly into a pleasant smile of recognition.

"Mr. Morton, isn't it?" he said, holding out his hand. "Mr. Ravenor told me that I should probably come across you."

I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot to accept the offered hand.

Mr. Ravenor's secretary was the last person whom I should have expected to find eating a solitary dinner in a Torchester hotel.

CHAPTER XV.

A TeTE-a-TeTE DINNER.

"What have you been up to in Torchester, eh? Shopping?" Mr. Marx inquired. I saw no reason for concealing anything from him, nor did I do so. Rather awkwardly I told him of Mr. Ravenor's note to me, and that I had been with Reynolds all the afternoon. Perhaps I spoke with a little enthusiasm of our somewhat elaborate purchases. At any rate, when I had finished, he laughed softly to himself--a long, noiseless, but not unpleasant laugh.

"Well, I'm glad I met you," he said, his lips still twitching, as though with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Sit down and have some dinner with me."

I hesitated, for just at that moment Mr. Ravenor's words concerning his secretary flashed into my mind. Besides, I was not at all sure that I liked him. But, on the other hand, what alternative was there for me?

What excuse could I find for declining so simple an invitation? In a few minutes the waiter would appear with the modest meal which I had ordered, and it would be impossible for me to order him to set it down in another part of the room, or to leave it and walk out of the hotel, just because this man was there. To do so would be to tell him as plainly as possible that I had some particular desire for avoiding him, and he would instantly divine that I was obeying a behest of Mr. Ravenor's. No; it was unavoidable. I had better accept his invitation, and, briefly, I did so.

"That's right," he said pleasantly. "It's a queer fancy of mine, but I hate dining alone. Waiter, bring some more soup at once. This gentleman will dine with me."

During dinner our conversation was interrupted. Hat in hand, Reynolds was standing before us, looking at Mr. Marx and then at me and the table before us with a look on his face which I did not altogether understand, although it annoyed me excessively. He spoke to me:

"The dogcart has come round, sir."

I half rose and threw down my napkin, though with some reluctance. I held out my hand regretfully to Mr. Marx, but he refused to take it.

"You needn't go home with Reynolds unless you like," he said. "I have a brougham from the Castle here, and I can drop you at the farm on my way home."

I hesitated, for the temptation to stay was strong. In fact, I should have accepted at once, only that Reynolds's grave, frowning face somehow reminded me of Mr. Ravenor's injunction. Reynolds, like a fool, settled the matter.

"I think Mr. Morton had better return with me, sir," he said to Mr. Marx.

"If you are ready, sir," he added to me. "The mare gets very fidgety if she's kept waiting."

My boyish vanity was wounded to the quick by the style of his address, and his unwise a.s.sumption of authority, and I answered quickly:

"You'd better be off at once, then, Reynolds. I shall accept Mr. Marx's offer."

He was evidently uneasy and made one more effort.

"I think Mr. Ravenor would prefer your returning with me, sir," he said.

Mr. Marx had been leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee somewhat absently, and to all appearance altogether indifferent as to which way I should decide. He looked up now, however, and addressed Reynolds for the first time.

"How the deuce do you know anything about what your master would prefer?"

he said coolly.

Reynolds made no answer, but looked appealingly at me. I chose not to see him.

"I should imagine," Mr. Marx continued, leaning back in his chair again and deliberately stirring his coffee, "that if Mr. Ravenor has any choice about the matter at all, which seems to me very unlikely, he would prefer Mr. Morton's riding home in safety with a dry skin. Listen!"

We did so, and at that moment a fierce gust of wind drove a very deluge of rain against the shaking window-panes.

"That decides it!" I exclaimed. "I'll accept your offer, Mr. Marx, if you don't mind."

"By far the more sensible thing to do," he remarked carelessly. "Have a gla.s.s of wine, Reynolds, before you start. You've a wet drive before you."

Reynolds shook his head, and, wis.h.i.+ng me a respectful good evening, withdrew.