The Zeppelin's Passenger Part 6

"Philippa, you are mad!" Helen exclaimed pa.s.sionately. "Didn't I have to realise all that you say when I let d.i.c.k go, cheerfully, the day after we were engaged? Haven't I realised the duty of cheerfulness and sacrifice through all these weary months? But there is a limit to these things, Philippa, a sense of proportion which must be taken into account. It's d.i.c.k's life which is in the balance against some intangible thing, nothing that we could ever reproach ourselves with, nothing that could bring real harm upon any one. Oh, I love my country, too, but I want d.i.c.k! I should feel like his murderess all my life, if I didn't consent!"

"It occurs to me," Lessingham remarked, turning towards Philippa, "that Miss Fairclough's point of view is one to be considered."

"Doesn't all that Miss Fairclough has said apply to me?" Philippa demanded, with a little break in her voice. "Richard is my twin brother, he is the dearest thing in life to me. Can't you realise, though, that what you ask of us is treason?"

"It really doesn't amount to that," Lessingham a.s.sured her. "In my own heart I feel convinced that I have come here on a fool's errand. No object that I could possibly attain in this neighbourhood is worth the life of a man like Richard Felstead."

"Oh, he's right!" Helen exclaimed. "Think, Philippa! What is there here which the whole world might not know? There are no secrets in Dreymarsh.

We are miles away from everywhere. For my sake, Philippa, I implore you not to be unreasonable."

"In plain words," Lessingham intervened, "do not be quixotic, Lady Cranston. There is just an idea on one side, your brother's life on the other. You see, the scales do not balance."

"Can't you realise, though," Philippa answered, "what that idea means? It is part of one's soul that one gives when one departs from a principle."

"What are principles against love?" Helen demanded, almost fiercely. "A sister may prate about them, Philippa. A wife couldn't. I'd sacrifice every principle I ever had, every sc.r.a.p of self-respect, myself and all that belongs to me, to save d.i.c.k's life!"

There was a brief, throbbing silence. Helen was feverishly clutching Philippa's hand. Lessingham's eyes were fixed upon the tortured face into which he gazed. There were no women like this in his own country.

"Dear lady," he said, and for the first time his own voice shook, "I abandon my arguments. I beg you to act as you think best for your own future happiness. The chances of life or death are not great things for either men like your brother or for me. I would not purchase my end, nor he his life, at the expense of your suffering. You see, I stand on one side. The telephone is there for your use."

"You shan't use it!" Helen cried pa.s.sionately. "Phillipa, you shan't!"

Philippa turned towards her, and all the stubborn pride had gone out of her face. Her great eyes were misty with tears, her mouth was twitching with emotion. She threw her arms around Helen's neck.

"My dear, I can't! I can't!" she sobbed.

CHAPTER V

Philippa's breakdown was only momentary. With a few brusque words she brought the other two down to the level of her newly recovered equanimity.

"To be practical," she began, "we have no time to lose. I will go and get a suit of d.i.c.k's clothes, and, Helen, you had better take Mr.

Lessingham into the gun room. Afterwards, perhaps you will have time to ring up the hotel."

Lessingham took a quick step towards her,--almost as though he were about to make some impetuous withdrawal. Philippa turned and met his almost pleading gaze. Perhaps she read there his instinct of self-abnegation.

"I am in command of the situation," she continued, a little more lightly. "Every one must please obey me. I shan't be more than five minutes."

She left the room, waving back Lessingham's attempt to open the door for her. He stood for a moment looking at the place where she had vanished.

Then he turned round.

"Major Felstead's description," he said quietly, "did not do his sister justice."

"Philippa is a dear," Helen declared enthusiastically. "Just for a moment, though, I was terrified. She has a wonderful will."

"How long has she been married?"

"About six years."

"Are there--any children?"

Helen shook her head.

"Sir Henry had a daughter by his first wife, who lives with us."

"Six years!" Lessingham repeated. "Why, she seems no more than a child.

Sir Henry must be a great deal her senior."

"Sixteen years," Helen told him. "Philippa is twenty-nine. And now, don't be inquisitive any more, please, and come with me. I want to show you where to change your clothes."

She opened a door on the other side of the room, and pointed to a small apartment across the pa.s.sage.

"If you'll wait in there," she begged, "I'll bring the clothes to you directly they come. I am going to telephone now."

"So many thanks," he answered. "I should like a pleasant bedroom and sitting room, and a bathroom if possible. My luggage you will find already there. A friend in London has seen to that."

She looked at him curiously.

"You are very thorough, aren't you?" she remarked.

"The people of the country whom it is my destiny to serve all are," he replied. "One weak link, you know, may sometimes spoil the mightiest chain."

She closed the door and took up the telephone.

"Number three, please," she began. "Are you the hotel? The manager?

Good! I am speaking for Lady Cranston. She wishes a sitting-room, bedroom and bath-room reserved for a friend of ours who is arriving to-day--a Mr. Hamar Lessingham. You have his luggage already, I believe.

Please do the best you can for him.--Certainly.--Thank you very much."

She set down the receiver. The door was quickly opened and shut.

Philippa reappeared, carrying an armful of clothes.

"Why, you've brought his grey suit," Helen cried in dismay, "the one he looks so well in!"

"Don't be an idiot," Philippa scoffed. "I had to bring the first I could find. Take them in to Mr. Lessingham, and for heaven's sake see that he hurries! Henry's train is due, and he may be here at any moment."

"I'll tell him," Helen promised. "I'll smuggle him out of the back way, if you like."

Philippa laughed a little drearily.

"A nice start that would be, if any one ever traced his arrival!" she observed. "No, we must try and get him away before Henry comes, but, if the worst comes to the worst, we'll have him in and introduce him. Henry isn't likely to notice anything," she added, a little bitterly.

Helen disappeared with the clothes and returned almost immediately, Philippa was sitting in her old position by the fire.

"You're not worrying about this, dear, are you?" the former asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Philippa replied, without turning her head. "I don't know what may come of it, Helen. I have a queer sort of feeling about that man."