Mr. Marx's Secret Part 8

Mr. Ravenor made no sign of annoyance or surprise. I could not tell whether the news was a relief to him, or the reverse.

"Is there any answer, sir?" I inquired.

"Yes. Tell him to come to the steward for his wages in an hour's time and be prepared to leave this evening."

I hesitated and then repeated the words. Mr. Ravenor watched me keenly.

"You are thinking that I am a stern master," he said abruptly.

It was exactly what had been pa.s.sing through my mind and I confessed it.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I like to be obeyed implicitly, and to the letter," he said. "If a quarter of the people who present themselves here to see me were allowed to pa.s.s through to my Castle, my leisure, which is of some value to me, would be continually broken in upon. Anderson has been careful hitherto, however, and this must be a lesson to him. You can tell him as you go out that I will give him one more chance."

I rose, with my cap in hand, but he waved me back.

"I have a letter to write to your mother," he said, drawing some notepaper towards him. "Wait a minute or two."

I strolled over to the high French windows and looked out upon the grey twilight. I had scarcely stood there for a moment when the sound of horses' feet and smoothly rolling wheels coming up the broad drive told me that Mr. Ravenor's visitor was at hand, and immediately afterwards a small brougham flashed past the window and, describing a semi-circle, pulled up in front of the hall door. A footman leaped down from the box and several servants stood on the steps and respectfully saluted the lady who had alighted from the carriage. A moment or two later there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," answered Mr. Ravenor, without looking up, or even ceasing his writing, for I could hear the broad quill dashing away without a pause over the notepaper.

A servant threw open the door and announced "Lady Silchester," and a tall woman, wrapped from head to foot in dark brown furs, swept past him and entered the room.

A single glance at the slim, majestic figure, and at the cla.s.sical outline of her face, told me who she was and told me rightly. It was Mr.

Ravenor's sister.

Mr. Ravenor rose and, without putting his pen down, welcomed Lady Silchester with cold, frigid courtesy, which she seemed determined, however, not to notice.

"Quite an unexpected visit, this, isn't it?" she exclaimed, sinking into an easy chair before the fire with a little shiver. "I never was so cold!

These autumn mists are awful, and I've had a twelve-mile drive. What a dreary room you have made of this!" she added, looking round with a little shrug of her shoulders and putting her hands farther into her m.u.f.f. "How can you sit here in this ghostly light with only one lamp--and such a fire, too?"

He smiled grimly, but it was not a smile which heralded any increase of geniality in his manner.

"I am not in the habit of receiving ladies here," he remarked, "and I did not expect you. Where have you come from? I thought you were in Rome."

She shook her head.

"I wish we were. We came back last week and I went straight down to the Cedars--Tom's place at Melton, you know. I don't think I've been warm since I landed in England. Just now I'm nearly frozen to death."

"I think you would find one of the rooms in the other wing more comfortable," he said, after a short pause; "besides which I am engaged at present. You dine here, of course?"

"By all means," she answered. "You wouldn't send me back to Melton dinnerless, would you, even if I have come without an invitation? I am dying for a cup of tea."

"Mrs. Ross shall send you anything you want," he said. "I will ring for her."

She rose and shook out her skirts. Her eyes fell upon me.

"You have a visitor," she remarked. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

She looked at me fixedly as I moved a few steps forward out of the deep shadows which hung about the further end of the apartment. Then she turned from me to Mr. Ravenor, who was holding open the door for her. He met her gaze steadily, with a calm, inquiring look in his deep eyes, as though wondering why she lingered.

"Won't you introduce your visitor?" she asked slowly.

He appeared wishful for her to go, yet resigned.

"Certainly," he answered, "if you wish it. Cecilia, let me present to you Mr. Philip Morton, the son of a former neighbour of mine. You may be interested to hear that Mr. Morton is about to complete his education with Dr. Randall. Morton, this is my sister, Lady Silchester."

Lady Silchester held up a pair of gold eye-gla.s.ses and looked at me steadily. I was not used to ladies, but Lady Silchester's manner did not please me, and, after a very slight bow, I drew myself up and returned her gaze without flinching. She turned abruptly away.

"Yes, I am interested--a little surprised," she said, in a peculiar tone.

"Let me congratulate you, my dear brother, on----"

"Did I understand you to say that you would be ready in a quarter of an hour, Cecilia?" he interrupted calmly. "Permit me to order your horses to be put up." And he moved across the room towards the bell and rang it.

She hesitated, bit her lip, and turned towards the door without another word. A servant stood upon the threshold, summoned by the bell.

"Let Mrs. Ross attend Lady Silchester at once," Mr. Ravenor ordered. "Her ladyship will take tea in her room, and will dine with me in the library at half-past eight."

"Very good, sir."

The door was closed and we were alone again. Mr. Ravenor returned to his letter, with his lips slightly parted in a quiet smile. I stood still, hot and uncomfortable, wondering in what possible manner I could have offended Lady Silchester. The meaning of the little scene which had just taken place was beyond my comprehension. But I knew that it had a meaning, and that I was somehow concerned in it.

CHAPTER XI.

THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.

The letter which Mr. Ravenor had been writing to my mother was finished and sealed at last. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked steadily at me.

"I shall not see you again before you go, Philip Morton," he said, "so I wish to impress upon you once more what I said to you about my nephew, who is Lady Silchester's son, by-the-bye. I know that he is going on badly, but I wish to know how badly. Unfortunately, he has no father, and, from what I can remember of him, I should imagine that he is quite easily led, and would be very amenable to the influence of a stronger mind. If yours should be that mind--and I do not see why it should not--it will be well for him. That delightfully Utopian optimism of yours is, at any rate, healthy," he added dryly.

I felt my cheeks burn and would have spoken, but Mr. Ravenor checked me.

"Let there be no misunderstanding between us," he said. "I desire no grat.i.tude from you and I deserve none. What I am doing I am doing for my own gratification--perhaps for my own ultimate advantage. That you are a gainer by it is purely a matter of chance. The whim might just as well have been the other way. I might have taken a fancy to have you turned out of the place and, if so, I would have done it. On the whole, it is I who should be grateful to you for not baulking me in my scheme and for letting me have my own way. So understand, please, after this explanation, that I shall look upon any expression of grat.i.tude from you as a glaring mark of imbecility, apart from which it will annoy me exceedingly."

I listened in silence. What could one reply to such a strange way of putting a case? Mr. Ravenor's manner forbade any doubt as to his seriousness and I could only respect his wishes.

"As you won't let me thank you, sir, I think I'd better go," I said bluntly. "I'm sure to forget if I stay here much longer."

"A good discipline for you to stay, then," he answered.

Again the tinkle of the telephone bell rang out from the corner and interrupted his speech. Mr. Ravenor motioned me towards it.

"Go and hear what it is and repeat it to me," he said.

I put my ear to the tube and repeated the words as they came: