Taken At The Flood Part 8

"That odious David Hunter."

"Really," said Mrs Marchmont with dignity, "I don't see that it can matter in the least what David Hunter thinks. Fortunately he wasn't at matter in the least what David Hunter thinks. Fortunately he wasn't at Furrowbank this morning - otherwise I dare say he would have Furrowbank this morning - otherwise I dare say he would have influenced that girl. She's completely under his thumb, of course." influenced that girl. She's completely under his thumb, of course."

Lynn shifted from one foot to the other.

"What did you mean, Mums, when you said - that first morning I was home - 'If he is her brother?'" home - 'If he is her brother?'"

"Oh, that," Mrs Marchmont looked slightly embarra.s.sed. "Well, there's been a certain amount of gossip, you know." been a certain amount of gossip, you know."

Lynn merely waited inquiringly. Mrs Marchmont coughed.

"That type of young woman - the adventuress type (of course poor Gordon was completely taken in) they've usually got a - well, a young Gordon was completely taken in) they've usually got a - well, a young man of their own in the background. Suppose she says to Gordon man of their own in the background. Suppose she says to Gordon she's got a brother - wires to him in Canada or wherever he was. This she's got a brother - wires to him in Canada or wherever he was. This man turns up. How is Gordon to know whether he's her brother or not? man turns up. How is Gordon to know whether he's her brother or not?

Poor Gordon, absolutely infatuated no doubt, and believing everything she said. And so her 'brother' comes with them to England - poor she said. And so her 'brother' comes with them to England - poor Gordon quite unsuspecting." Gordon quite unsuspecting."

Lynn said fiercely: "I don't believe it. I don't believe it!"

Mrs Marchmont raised her eyebrows.

"Really, my dear -"

"He's not like that. And she - she isn't either. She's a fool perhaps, but she's sweet - yes, she's really sweet. It's just people's foul minds. I she's sweet - yes, she's really sweet. It's just people's foul minds. I don't believe it, I tell you." don't believe it, I tell you."

Mrs Marchmont said with dignity: "There's really no need to shout"

Chapter 8.

It was a week later that the 5.20 train drew into Warmsley Heath Station and a tall bronzed man with a knapsack got out. Station and a tall bronzed man with a knapsack got out.

On the opposite platform a cl.u.s.ter of golfers were waiting for the up train. The tall bearded man with the knapsack gave up his ticket and train. The tall bearded man with the knapsack gave up his ticket and pa.s.sed out of the station. pa.s.sed out of the station.

He stood uncertainly for a minute or two - then he saw the signpost: Footpath to Warmsley Vale - and directed his steps that way with brisk Footpath to Warmsley Vale - and directed his steps that way with brisk determination. determination.

At Long Willows Rowley Cloade had just finished making himself a cup of tea when a shadow falling across the kitchen table made him look of tea when a shadow falling across the kitchen table made him look up. up.

If for just a moment he thought the girl standing just inside the door was Lynn, his disappointment turned to surprise when he saw it was was Lynn, his disappointment turned to surprise when he saw it was Rosaleen Cloade. Rosaleen Cloade.

She was wearing a frock of some peasant material in bright broad stripes of orange and green - the artificial simplicity of which had run stripes of orange and green - the artificial simplicity of which had run into more money than Rowley could ever have imagined possible. into more money than Rowley could ever have imagined possible.

Up to now he had always seen her dressed in expensive and somewhat towny clothes which she wore with an artificial air - much, he had towny clothes which she wore with an artificial air - much, he had thought, as a mannequin might display dresses that did not belong to thought, as a mannequin might display dresses that did not belong to her but to the firm who employed her. her but to the firm who employed her.

This afternoon in the broad peasant stripes of gay colour, he seemed to see a new Rosaleen Cloade. Her Irish origin was more noticeable, to see a new Rosaleen Cloade. Her Irish origin was more noticeable, the dark curling hair and the lovely blue eyes put in with the s.m.u.tty the dark curling hair and the lovely blue eyes put in with the s.m.u.tty finger. Her voice, too, had a softer Irish sound instead of the careful finger. Her voice, too, had a softer Irish sound instead of the careful rather mincing tones in which she usually spoke. rather mincing tones in which she usually spoke.

"It's such a lovely afternoon," she said. "So I came for a walk."

She added: "David's gone to London."

She said it almost guiltily, then flushed and took a cigarette case out of her bag. her bag.

She offered one to Rowley, who shook his head, then looked round for a match to light Rosaleen's cigarette. But she was flicking a match to light Rosaleen's cigarette. But she was flicking unsuccessfully at an expensive-looking small gold lighter. Rowley took unsuccessfully at an expensive-looking small gold lighter. Rowley took it from her and with one sharp movement it lit. As she bent her head it from her and with one sharp movement it lit. As she bent her head towards him to light her cigarette he noticed how long and dark the towards him to light her cigarette he noticed how long and dark the lashes were that lay on her cheek and he thought to himself: lashes were that lay on her cheek and he thought to himself: "Old Gordon knew what he was doing..."

Rosaleen stepped back a pace and said admiringly: "That's a lovely little heifer you've got in the top field."

Astonished by her interest, Rowley began to talk to her about the farm. Her interest surprised him, but it was obviously genuine and not put Her interest surprised him, but it was obviously genuine and not put on, and to his surprise he found that she was quite knowledgeable on on, and to his surprise he found that she was quite knowledgeable on farm matters. b.u.t.ter-making and dairy produce she spoke of with farm matters. b.u.t.ter-making and dairy produce she spoke of with familiarity. familiarity.

"Why, you might be a farmer's wife, Rosaleen," he said smiling.

The animation went out of her face.

She said: "We had a farm - in Ireland - before I came over here - before -"

"Before you went on the stage?"

She said wistfully and a trifle, it seemed to him, guiltily: "It's not so very long ago... I remember it all very well." She added with a flash of spirit, "I could milk your cows for you, Rowley, now." a flash of spirit, "I could milk your cows for you, Rowley, now."

This was quite a new Rosaleen. Would David Hunter have approved these casual references to a farming past? Rowley thought not. Old these casual references to a farming past? Rowley thought not. Old Irish landed gentry, that was the impression David tried to put over. Irish landed gentry, that was the impression David tried to put over. Rosaleen's version, he thought, was nearer the truth. Primitive farm Rosaleen's version, he thought, was nearer the truth. Primitive farm life, then the lure of the stage, the touring company to South Africa, life, then the lure of the stage, the touring company to South Africa, marriage - isolation in Central Africa - escape - hiatus - and finally marriage - isolation in Central Africa - escape - hiatus - and finally marriage to a millionaire in New York... marriage to a millionaire in New York...

Yes, Rosaleen Hunter had travelled a long way since milking a Kerry cow. Yet looking at her, he found it hard to believe that she had ever cow. Yet looking at her, he found it hard to believe that she had ever started. Her face had that innocent, slightly half-witted expression, the started. Her face had that innocent, slightly half-witted expression, the face of one who has no history. And she looked so young - much face of one who has no history. And she looked so young - much younger than her twenty-six years. younger than her twenty-six years.

There was something appealing about her, she had the same pathetic quality as the little calves he had driven to the butcher that morning. quality as the little calves he had driven to the butcher that morning. He looked at her as he had looked at them. Poor little devils, he had He looked at her as he had looked at them. Poor little devils, he had thought, a pity that they had to be killed... thought, a pity that they had to be killed...

A look of alarm came into Rosaleen's eyes. She asked uneasily: "What are you thinking of, Rowley?" are you thinking of, Rowley?"

"Would you like to see over the farm and the dairy?"

"Oh, indeed, I would."

Amused by her interest he took her all over the farm. But when he finally suggested making her a cup of tea, an alarmed expression finally suggested making her a cup of tea, an alarmed expression came into her eyes. came into her eyes.

"Oh, no - thank you, Rowley - I'd best be getting home." She looked down at her watch. "Oh! how late it is! David will be back by the 5.20 down at her watch. "Oh! how late it is! David will be back by the 5.20 train. He'll wonder where I am. I - I must hurry." She added shyly: "I have enjoyed myself, Rowley." have enjoyed myself, Rowley."

And that, he thought, was true. She had enjoyed herself. She had been able to be natural - to be her own raw unsophisticated self. She was able to be natural - to be her own raw unsophisticated self. She was afraid of her brother David, that was clear. David was the brains of the afraid of her brother David, that was clear. David was the brains of the family. Well, for once, she'd had an afternoon out - yes, that was it, an family. Well, for once, she'd had an afternoon out - yes, that was it, an afternoon out just like a servant! afternoon out just like a servant!

The rich Mrs Gordon Cloade!

He smiled grimly as he stood by the gate watching her hurrying up the hill towards Furrowbank. Just before she reached the stile a man hill towards Furrowbank. Just before she reached the stile a man came over it - Rowley wondered if it was David but it was a bigger, came over it - Rowley wondered if it was David but it was a bigger, heavier man. Rosaleen drew back to let him pa.s.s, then skipped lightly heavier man. Rosaleen drew back to let him pa.s.s, then skipped lightly over the stile, her pace accentuating almost to a run. over the stile, her pace accentuating almost to a run.

Yes, she'd had an afternoon off - and he, Rowley, had wasted over an hour of valuable time! Well, perhaps it hadn't been wasted. Rosaleen, hour of valuable time! Well, perhaps it hadn't been wasted. Rosaleen, he thought, had seemed to like him. That might come in useful. A pretty he thought, had seemed to like him. That might come in useful. A pretty thing - yes, and the calves this morning had been pretty... poor little thing - yes, and the calves this morning had been pretty... poor little devils. devils.

Standing there, lost in thought, he was startled by a voice, and raised his head sharply. his head sharply.

A big man in a broad felt hat with a pack slung across his shoulders was standing on the footpath at the other side of the gate. was standing on the footpath at the other side of the gate.

"Is this the way to Warmsley Vale?"

As Rowley stared he repeated his question. With an effort Rowley recalled his thoughts and answered: recalled his thoughts and answered: "Yes, keep right along the path - across that next field. Turn to the left when you get to the road and about three minutes takes you right into when you get to the road and about three minutes takes you right into the village." the village."

In the self-same words he had answered that particular question several hundred times. People took the footpath on leaving the station, several hundred times. People took the footpath on leaving the station, followed it up over the hill, and lost faith in it as they came down the followed it up over the hill, and lost faith in it as they came down the other side and saw no sign of their destination, for Blackwell Copse other side and saw no sign of their destination, for Blackwell Copse masked Warmsley Vale from sight. It was tucked away in a hollow masked Warmsley Vale from sight. It was tucked away in a hollow there with only the tip of its church tower showing. there with only the tip of its church tower showing.

The next question was not quite so usual, but Rowley answered it without much thought. without much thought.

"The Stag or the Bells and Motley. The Stag for choice. They're both equally good - or bad. I should think you'd get a room all right." equally good - or bad. I should think you'd get a room all right."

The question made him look more attentively at his interlocutor. Nowadays people usually booked a room beforehand at any place they Nowadays people usually booked a room beforehand at any place they were going to... were going to...

The man was tall, with a bronzed face, a beard, and very blue eyes. He was about forty and not ill-looking in a tough and rather dare-devil was about forty and not ill-looking in a tough and rather dare-devil style. It was not, perhaps, a wholly pleasant face. style. It was not, perhaps, a wholly pleasant face.

Come from overseas somewhere, thought Rowley. Was there or was there not a faint Colonial tw.a.n.g in his accent? Curious, in some way, there not a faint Colonial tw.a.n.g in his accent? Curious, in some way, the face was not unfamiliar... Where had he seen that face, or a face the face was not unfamiliar... Where had he seen that face, or a face very like it, before? very like it, before?

Whilst he was puzzling unsuccessfully over that problem, the stranger startled him by asking: startled him by asking: "Can you tell me if there's a house called Furrowbank near here?"

Rowley answered slowly: "Why, yes. Up there on the hill. You must have pa.s.sed close by it - that is, if you've come along the footpath from the station." is, if you've come along the footpath from the station."

"Yes - that's what I did." He turned, staring up the hill. "So that was it - that big white new-looking house." that big white new-looking house."

"Yes, that's the one."

"A big place to run," said the man.

"Must cost a lot to keep up?"

A devil of a lot, thought Rowley. And our money... A stirring of anger made him forget for the moment where he was... made him forget for the moment where he was...

With a start he came back to himself to see the stranger staring up the hill with a curious speculative look in his eyes. hill with a curious speculative look in his eyes.

"Who lives there?" he said. "Is it - a Mrs Cloade?"

"That's right," said Rowley. "Mrs Gordon Cloade."

The stranger raised his eyebrows. He seemed gently amused.

"Oh," he said, "Mrs Gordon Cloade. Very nice for her!"

Then he gave a short nod.

"Thanks, pal," he said, and shifting the pack he carried he strode on towards Warmsley Vale. towards Warmsley Vale.

Rowley turned slowly back into the farmyard. His mind was still puzzling over something. puzzling over something.

Where the devil had he seen that fellow before?

About nine-thirty that night, Rowley pushed aside a heap of forms that had been littering the kitchen table and got up. He looked had been littering the kitchen table and got up. He looked absentmindedly at the photograph of Lynn that stood on the absentmindedly at the photograph of Lynn that stood on the mantelpiece, then frowning, he went out of the house. mantelpiece, then frowning, he went out of the house.

Ten minutes later he pushed open the door of the Stag Saloon Bar. Beatrice Lippincott, behind the bar counter, smiled welcome at him. Beatrice Lippincott, behind the bar counter, smiled welcome at him. Mr Rowley Cloade, she thought, was a fine figure of a man. Mr Rowley Cloade, she thought, was a fine figure of a man.

Over a pint of bitter Rowley exchanged the usual observations with the company present, unfavourable comment was made upon the company present, unfavourable comment was made upon the Government, the weather, and sundry particular crops.

Presently, moving up a little, Rowley was able to address Beatrice in a quiet voice: quiet voice: "Got a stranger staying here? Big man? Slouch hat?"

"That's right, Mr Rowley. Came along about six o'clock. That the one you mean?" you mean?"

Rowley nodded.

"He pa.s.sed my place. Asked his way."

"That's right. Seems a stranger."

"I wondered," said Rowley, "who he was."

He looked at Beatrice and smiled. Beatrice smiled back.

"That's easy, Mr Rowley, if you'd like to know."

She dipped under the bar and out to return with a fat leather volume wherein were registered the arrivals. wherein were registered the arrivals.

She opened it at the page showing the most recent entries. The last of these ran as follows: these ran as follows: Enoch Arden. Cape Town. British.

Chapter 9.

It was a fine morning. The birds were singing, and Rosaleen, coming down to breakfast in her expensive peasant dress felt happy. down to breakfast in her expensive peasant dress felt happy.

The doubts and fears that had lately oppressed her seemed to have faded away. David was in a good temper, laughing and teasing her. His faded away. David was in a good temper, laughing and teasing her. His visit to London on the previous day had been satisfactory. Breakfast visit to London on the previous day had been satisfactory. Breakfast was well cooked and well served. They had just finished it when the was well cooked and well served. They had just finished it when the post arrived. post arrived.

There were seven or eight letters for Rosaleen. Bills, charitable appeals, some local invitations - nothing of any special interest. appeals, some local invitations - nothing of any special interest.

David laid aside a couple of small bills and opened the third envelope. The enclosure, like the outside of the envelope, was written in printed The enclosure, like the outside of the envelope, was written in printed characters. characters.

Dear Mr. Hunter, I think it is best to approach you rather than your sister, "Mrs Cloade," in case the contents of this letter might come as somewhat of a shock in case the contents of this letter might come as somewhat of a shock to her. Briefly, I have news of Captain Robert Underhay, which she to her. Briefly, I have news of Captain Robert Underhay, which she may be glad to hear. I am staying at the Stag and if you will call there may be glad to hear. I am staying at the Stag and if you will call there this evening, I shall be pleased to go into the matter with you. this evening, I shall be pleased to go into the matter with you.

Yours faithfully, Enoch Arden.

A strangled sound came from David's throat. Rosaleen looked up smiling, then her face changed to an expression of alarm. smiling, then her face changed to an expression of alarm.

"David - David - what is it?"

Mutely he held out the letter to her.