Mr. Marx's Secret Part 33

"Are you expecting to hear a confession?" he asked, as it pa.s.sed away.

A confession from him! G.o.d forbid! From him who had ever seemed to me so far above other men, that none other were worthy to be cla.s.sed with him!

All the old fire of my boyish hero-worship blazed up at the very thought.

A confession from him! The bare idea was sacrilegious.

He read his answer in the mute, amazed protest of my looks, and did not wait for the words which were trembling upon my lips.

"It would do you little good to tell you all that your story has suggested to me," he said quietly. "Some day you will know everything; but not yet--not yet."

He paused and walked slowly up and down the room, with his hands behind him and his eyes fixed upon the floor. Suddenly he stopped and looked up.

"Marx must come back at once," he said, with something of his old firmness. "I shall send him a telegram to-morrow to return immediately."

"And if he doesn't come?"

"I must go to him. This matter must be cleared up as far as it can be and at once."

"Your guests," I reminded him. "How can you leave them?"

"I forgot them," he exclaimed impatiently. "Philip, will you go?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," I answered quietly, although my heart was beating fast. "Yes, I will go. Perhaps it would be best."

He let his hand rest for a moment upon my shoulder, and, though he did not say so, I knew that he was pleased. Then he glanced at the clock.

"Two o'clock!" he exclaimed. "Philip, you must leave me now."

I looked towards his writing-table, at which he was already seating himself, and hesitated.

"You are not going to write now?" I ventured to protest.

"Why not?"

I pointed to the clock; but he only smiled.

"I am no slave to regular hours," he said quietly. "An hour or two's sleep is enough for me at a time."

So I left him.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

MY RIDE.

It was a few minutes past nine when I descended into the long, oaken gallery where breakfast was served, and at the head of the princ.i.p.al table sat Mr. Ravenor in hunting costume. Everyone who was down was evidently bound for the meet. The men were nearly all in scarlet coats, and the women in riding-habits and trim little hats, with their veils pushed back. There was a great clatter of knives and forks, and a good deal of carving going on at the long, polished sideboard, and above it all, a loud hum of cheerful talk; altogether it was a very pleasant meal that was in progress.

I was making my way towards a gap in the table at the lower end when I heard my name called, and looked down into Miss Hamilton's piquant, upturned face.

"Come and sit by me," she exclaimed, moving her skirts to make room.

"See. I've hidden a chair here--for somebody."

I took it with a laugh.

"Well, as somebody is so very lazy this morning," I said, "he doesn't deserve to have it; so I will. Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head.

"No, thanks. Look after yourself, do, for we shall have to start presently. And now tell me, how did you know for whom I was saving that chair?"

"Well, I supposed it was for Cis," I remarked, making a vigorous attack upon an adjacent ham.

"Indeed! And supposing I were to say that it wasn't--that it was for someone else?"

"Poor Cis!" I said, with a sigh. "Don't tell me who the someone else was, Miss Hamilton, please."

"Why not?"

"Because I shall hate him."

"For Lord Silchester's sake?"

"No; for my own."

"Mr. Morton, you're talking nonsense."

"Well, didn't you undertake to teach me how last evening?"

"Teach you! Oh!"--a little ironically--"you're a very apt pupil, Mr.

Morton."

I looked at her in mute remonstrance.

"With such a tutor, Miss Hamilton----"

She stopped me, laughing.

"Oh, you're a dreadful boy! Let me give you some tea to keep you quiet."

I drew a long sigh and attacked my breakfast vigorously. Presently she began again.

"Do you know Nanpantan, Mr. Morton, where the meet is this morning?"

"Very well," I answered, cutting myself some more ham. "Do you mind giving me another cup of tea, Miss Hamilton? It was so good!"

She nodded and drew off her thick dogskin glove again.

"You thirsty mortal!" she remarked. "I'm afraid you must have been smoking too much last night."