Anthony Lyveden Part 38

Anthony put out his hand.

"Good-bye," he said gently.

For a moment the girl looked at him. Then she gave a little sob, and, putting her arms about his neck, drew down his head and kissed him frantically. A moment later she was leaning wearily against the car, with the sleeve of her right arm across her eyes. As she let it fall, Winchester stepped out of the darkness with Patch at his heels.

"Andre?" he said. And then again, "Andre?" Anthony swung on his heel and faced the speaker. The latter stared at him with smouldering eyes.

"Lyveden?" he said hoa.r.s.ely.

There was an electric silence.

Then Anthony turned to Miss Strongi'th'arm.

"I most humbly apologize," he said. "My feelings got the better of me.

I pray that you will try to forgive me." He turned to Winchester.

"This lady needed some water for her radiator, and came to my door----"

"You blackguard!" said Winchester. "You----"

"It's a lie!" flamed Andre.

The cold steel of her tone fairly whistled. Instinctively both men started.

"It's a lie, Richard. He's the cleanest, straightest man that ever breathed. He'd no idea who I was. He hasn't now. He never knew my name till you said it. I forced myself upon him the other day. I forced myself upon him to-night. And he's--he's just turned me down.... He said what he did just now to try and shield me. But he's blameless. It was I who--made the running. And I'm glad you saw it.

_Glad!_" She tore off her left glove. "Because it's your own fault.

It's eighteen months since I promised to be your wife. Eighteen solid months. And I'm tired--sick of waiting--fed up. First it was Russia: then the North of France: then--Gramarye. _Gramarye!_" She flung back her head and laughed wildly. Then she s.n.a.t.c.hed a ring from her finger and hurled it on to the ground. "There's the ring you gave me. G.o.d knows why I didn't give it you back yesterday--months ago. I'd reason enough. I suppose I still hoped.... But now you've killed it. I don't even care what happens to you. You've messed up my life, you've messed up your own, and, what's a million times worse, you're doing your level best to mess up his."

Upon the last words her voice broke piteously, and Andre covered her eyes. So she stood for a moment, white-faced, her lips trembling....

Then she whipped into the car and slammed the door. A moment later the engine was running. She let in the clutch, and the car moved forward....

As she turned on to the London road, she changed into second speed ...

into third ... top....

The two men stood as she had left them, motionless, the little white dog eyeing them curiously.

The steady purr of the engine grew fainter and fainter.

When it had quite died, Anthony turned and touched the other upon the shoulder.

"There's always Gramarye," he said.

For a moment the giant peered at him. Then he straightened his bowed shoulders and threw up his head.

"Yes," he shouted, "yes. There's always Gramarye!"

CHAPTER VII

NEHUSHTAN

"It is only right, Lyveden," said Colonel Winchester, "that you should know that I am losing my mind."

The steady, measured tone of the speaker invested this bald statement with a significance which paralyzed. Anthony stood as if rooted to the floor.

"Yes," said the other, "it was bound to shake you up. But I want you to realize it. Sit down for a minute and think what it means."

Anthony did as he was bid--dazedly. His employer turned his back and stared into the fire.

The silence which ensued was painful. So much so, that Mr. Samuel Plowman, Solicitor and Commissioner for Oaths, whose nerves were less subordinate than those of the two ex-officers, was hard put to it not to scream.

It must be confessed that in the last twenty-five minutes the poor gentleman had encountered a whole pack of things, none of which had been dreamt of in his philosophy. Little had he imagined, when he was desired to attend professionally at Gramarye "precisely at half-past ten on Sunday morning," what that attendance would bring forth.

Colonel Winchester had certainly a reputation for eccentricity. His letter was undoubtedly--well, peculiar. Mr. Plowman had smiled upon his finger-nails--a sapient, indulgent smile. He had dealt with eccentricity before. Witness Miss Sinister of Mallwood, who had summoned him in just such a way, but more peremptorily. Then he had been desired to superintend the cremation of a favourite cat. That was nine years ago. For the last eight years he had superintended Mallwood. Mr. Plowman had smiled more than ever....

At twenty-six minutes past ten that February morning he had ascended the broken steps of the old grey mansion, a little curious, perhaps, but, as he would have told you, "ready for anything." There being no bell, he had raised and let fall the great knocker, and then stood still in the sunshine looking placidly about him. The desolation of the park left him unmoved. Money, judiciously expended, could rectify that. And the house seemed sound enough. They knew how to build in the old days. Colonel Winchester was probably using only one wing for the present. In time to come, possibly ... Mr. Plowman had straightened his tie.

Then the door had opened.

Clad like a husbandman, his shirt open at the neck, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, the biggest man Mr. Plowman had ever seen had stood regarding him. The cold majesty of a lion had looked out of those terrible eyes; neck, chest, and arms proclaimed the strength of a Hercules; the pose was that of a demi-G.o.d at bay. The carelessly brushed fair hair, the broad forehead, the unusual distance between those steel-grey eyes, the fine colour of the cheeks, the fair, close-cut beard, contributed to make the fellow unearthly handsome.

But there was something behind it all--a dominating irresistible force, which rose up in a great wave, monstrous and menacing.

Mr. Plowman, who knew little of personality, felt as if he had been suddenly disembowelled....

Thereafter he had been led stumbling through the semi-darkness of a stark hall, by gaunt mouldering pa.s.sages to the servants' quarters. A fair-sized parlour, looking upon a courtyard, carpetless, curtainless, and something suggestive of an "Orderly Room," had presently received him.

There a deep ba.s.s voice had bade him be seated, and he had been told quite dispa.s.sionately that he was present to a.s.sist the speaker to prepare for insanity.

All things considered, it is to Mr. Plowman's credit that he was able to appreciate and answer coherently quite a number of questions which his client had put to him upon matters of law. The strain, however, was severe, and he was unutterably relieved when he was directed to move to a table, where paper and ink were waiting, and take down the explicit instructions which the voice would dictate. He had obeyed parrot-wise.

The dictation was hardly over when Lyveden had appeared at the window and, at a nod from Winchester, walked to a side-door and entered the room a moment later....

What immediately followed his entrance, gentlemen, we have already seen. Your time being precious, I have but made use of the silence which poor Mr. Plowman found so distressful.

The great figure before the fire turned slowly about and, folding its mighty arms, leaned against the mantelpiece.

"When it will happen," said the deep voice, "I have no idea. Sometimes it seems very near; at others, as if it may never come. Yet I know it will. So I must be prepared.... Mr. Plowman is here to a.s.sist me in this preparation.

"I've tried to tell him, Lyveden, about the estate. I've tried to explain what it means to me. I feel that I've failed." Mr. Plowman was physically unable to utter the deprecative e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n which he knew should have been here inserted. His lips framed it, but it was never expressed. "I have, however, explained that I am engaged upon its restoration, and that you are my second-in-command. I have told him that when I--when my call comes, I wish the work to go on. This is where you come in. I have given him certain instructions, all of which depend upon you." The speaker unfolded his arms and stood upright.

"_When I'm gone, are you willing to carry on?_"

Before Anthony could answer, the other had lifted his hand.

"Wait. Don't answer till you know where you are.

"You'll have a Power of Attorney and absolute control. The moment I'm certified, you'll stand in my shoes. Some of my income must be set aside--I shall have to be looked after, you know--the rest you will administer as if you were me. You'll be the master of the other men.

Your word will be law. The future of Gramarye will be in your hands.

You can follow the line I've taken, or you can strike off on your own.