Mr. Marx's Secret Part 30

"Oh, Fothergill's all right!" he answered. "You didn't find him very hungry for his winnings, did you?"

"I should think not," Cecil replied enthusiastically. "Why, I believe he was actually annoyed with himself for having won at all. I've given him my I O U's."

"He'll most likely tear them up," de Cartienne remarked. "He's beastly rich and he can't want the money."

"Where did you drop across him, Len?" asked Cecil, seating himself upon a chest and lighting a cigarette.

"He's a friend of my governor's. I've known him ever since I was a kid,"

de Cartienne answered slowly. "There, I think that'll do!" critically looking at the gleaming muzzle which he held in his hand.

"Why this sudden fit of industry?" inquired Cecil, yawning. "Going to do any shooting?"

De Cartienne nodded and began deliberately pulling the gun to pieces.

"Yes; I've had a long day indoors to-day and I mean to make up for it by potting some wild duck to-morrow. Hilliers told me that he'd heard of some very fair sport round by Rushey Ponds last week. You'd better come with me."

"Thanks, I'll see," Cecil answered. "I'm not very keen on wild duck potting."

"Haven't you been out all day, then, de Cartienne?" I asked--"not even to Drayton?"

"Not outside the house," he answered. "Do I look like it?"

He pointed to his slippered feet, his old clothes, and held up his hands, black with oil and grease, I took in the details of his appearance, feeling a little bewildered. It seemed barely possible that he could have been in Little Drayton an hour ago.

The dressing-bell rang out and we hurried off to our rooms, for Dr.

Randall, easy-going enough in some things, was strictness itself with regard to our punctuality at dinner-time. But no sooner had I seen de Cartienne safely in his room than I softly made my way downstairs again and crossed the yard to the stables.

It was as I had expected. The stall in which de Cartienne kept his mare was carefully closed, but through the c.h.i.n.ks I could see that a lamp was burning inside.

I tried the door softly, but it was locked. Then I knocked. There was no answer. Turning away, I entered the next stall and, mounting a step-ladder, looked over the part.i.tion.

I saw very much what I had expected to see--de Cartienne's thoroughbred mare splashed all over with mud and still trembling with nervous fatigue, and by her side d.i.c.k, the stable-boy, holding a wet sponge in his hand and looking up at me with a scared, disconsolate expression.

"Oh, it be you, be it, Muster Morton?" he exclaimed rather sullenly.

I looked down at Diana.

"How came she in that exhausted condition?" I asked. "And why have you locked the door?"

d.i.c.k hesitated, and I tossed him a half-crown.

"The truth now, d.i.c.k," I said. "And I won't let Mr. de Cartienne know that I've seen her."

He brightened up at once and pocketed the half-crown.

"That's kind o' yer, sir!" he exclaimed, evidently much relieved. "All I know, sir, is that Muster de Cartienne he come in riding like mad along the Drayton Road 'bout 'arf an hour ago, and he says to me, 'd.i.c.k, take Diana, lock her up in the stable and don't let no one know as she's been out. Just attend to her yourself and rub her down carefully, for I've been obliged to ride fast.' And with that he guv me summut and hoff he went into the 'ouse."

"Thank you, d.i.c.k," I said, getting down from the ladder, "that's all I wanted to know." And I crossed the yard to the house again and hurried upstairs to change my things.

We had two deliveries of letters at Borden Tower, and just as we were leaving the dinner-table that evening the late post arrived. There was a letter for me, a somewhat unusual occurrence, and a single glance at the arms and the bold, characteristic handwriting set me longing to open it, for it was from Mr. Ravenor. As soon as the cloth was cleared I did so.

"My dear Philip," it commenced, "I am thinking of travelling for several years, perhaps for longer, and should like to see you before I go. Come and stay here for a few days. I am writing Dr. Randall and also Cecil, who will accompany you. You will leave Borden Tower to-morrow and I will send to Mellborough to meet the 5.18. Bring some clothes, as there will be some people stopping here.--Yours,

"Bernard Ravenor."

I looked up from the letter with a great sense of relief and met Cecil's delighted gaze.

"Hurrah, old chap!" he exclaimed, only half under his breath. "Won't we have a rare old time?"

"Cave!" I whispered, for the doctor was looking our way.

"More vacation," he remarked, in a grumbling tone, which was made up for, however, by a good-natured smile. "Upon my word, I don't know how Mr.

Ravenor imagines you're ever going to learn anything! However, I suppose you must go."

De Cartienne looked up inquiringly.

"We're going to stay at Ravenor Castle for a week," Cecil explained.

"We're off to-morrow."

I leaned forward and watched de Cartienne's face intently. There was an expression in it which I could not a.n.a.lyse. It might have been pleasure, or apprehension, or indifference. Though I watched him narrowly, I could not make up my mind whether he was more dismayed or gratified at the prospect of our visit.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

A METAMORPHOSIS.

It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis had taken place within the walls of Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it we had the first intimation of its altered aspect. Instead of the one or two solitary lights shining above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of illumination, and when we drew up at the great front door the change was still mere apparent. Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving about the hall. From open doors there came the sound of laughing voices, and even Mr. Ravenor's manner, as he came out to meet us, seemed altered.

"Come in and have some tea here," he said, leading the way to one of the smaller rooms. "Your mother is here, Cecil."

We followed him into Lady Silchester's favourite apartment. Several ladies and one or two men were lounging on divans and in easy chairs around a brightly-blazing fire. Lady Silchester, who was presiding at a green-and-gold Sevres tea-service, welcomed us both with a languid smile.

"My dear Cis, how you have grown!" she said, leaning back in her chair and leisurely sipping her tea. "I declare I had no idea that I had a son your height, sir! Had you, Lord Penraven?"

Lord Penraven, who was lounging by her side with his elbow upon the mantelpiece, stroked a long, fair moustache vigorously and answered with emphasis:

"'Pon my word, I hadn't the slightest idea. Seems almost impossible!"

"Let me give you boys some tea!" Lady Silchester said, in her sweetest tone.

"None for me, thanks, mother," replied Cecil. "Why, Ag--Miss Hamilton, is that really you over in the corner?" he exclaimed, rising and crossing the room. "How awfully jolly!"

Lady Silchester shrugged her shoulders and turned to me.

"Mr. Morton?"