The Mysterious Mr. Miller Part 21

The car was, as the man beside me had said, a splendid "Mercedes" of the latest type, one of the best I had ever seen upon the road. The chauffeur was a smart fellow in uniform, probably French, and the party who were awaiting the repairs consisted of Ella--in a neat champagne-coloured motor-coat, with flat hat and a veil of the same colour with a plate of talc in front instead of gla.s.ses--a dark-haired lady somewhat older, also in motor clothes, a youngish man with a round boyish clean-shaven face, and lastly Mr Murray. The latter had so altered that had I met him in the street I should certainly not have recognised him. His beard was now white, his hair grey, and upon his face was a hard careworn look, in place of the easy nonchalant air he wore in those well-remembered days when I had been a welcome guest at Wichenford.

Ella was seated upon a stile chatting to her female companion, while her father was standing on the road some distance away, in earnest conversation with the young man.

Owing to my disguising dark goggles, I was able to look straight into their faces without fear of recognition. This was fortunate, for at present I had no intention of revealing my ident.i.ty.

Could that round-faced, fresh-complexioned man be the fellow who, according to my love's own admission, held her in his power?

The very suspicion maddened me, causing my blood to rise.

Murray appeared to be speaking to him in confidence, giving him certain instructions to which he was enlisting attentively, with brows knit, as though what he heard was far from rea.s.suring.

Who was the man?

His ident.i.ty and his relation towards my well-beloved I determined to ascertain.

"Let's go on slowly into the next place, whatever it is," I said.

"We're about five miles from Ashburton, sir," Gibbs replied.

"I want them to overtake us, and then we can follow them to their destination," I said.

"They're going to Plymouth. Wouldn't it be better for us to go on there an' wait for 'em?" suggested the man. "It's now five o'clock, and they'll probably put up there for the night."

"No. They are going farther than Plymouth," I said. "It's a thousand pities you can't remember where the chauffeur said they were going."

"Perhaps the ladies 'ull want tea. If so, they'll probably pull up at the `Golden Lion,' just as we go into Ashburton. It's the place where the coaches stop."

"Then let's stop there. If they also pull up, well and good. If they don't, we can follow them," I said, and five minutes later we came to a standstill before the inn where, at the back, I found a delightful garden sloping down towards the valley, where the blaze of colour and the scent of flowers were refreshing after the heat and dust of the great highway. Without removing my goggles I cast myself into a seat, and ordered a gla.s.s of "shandygaff." Gibbs I had left outside with the car, ordering him to come and tell me when the party pa.s.sed. That peaceful old garden was just the place in which to sit on a hot summer's afternoon with all sight and sound of town shut out; only the green hills opposite and their all-pervading fragrance.

Suddenly, from where I sat, I heard the whirr of an approaching car which came to a standstill before the inn. Would Ella come through into the garden?

I did not wish to meet her with her friends. It was my desire to see her alone. Therefore I jumped to my feet and walked away to the farther end of the garden.

As I expected they came, all four of them, seated themselves at the table I had just vacated, and ordered tea.

For five minutes or so I watched them. Ella, with her veil raised, was talking and laughing merrily with the round-faced young man, while he, bending towards her across the table, appeared fascinated by her glance.

I bit my lip, and turning, made my way through the inn and out into the road, where both cars were standing, and both chauffeurs were gossiping.

For another five minutes I waited, then Gibbs, approaching me, touched his cap, and inquired if I were ready, adding under his breath:--

"I've found out where they're goin', sir. There's some mystery about them, I believe. I'll tell you when we get away."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

REVEALS THE TRUTH.

"They're goin' to a place called Upper Wooton, about half way between Saltash and Callington, on the Launceston road. I know the village-- quite a tiny place," Gibbs said, as we went up the picturesque street of Ashburton.

"Then we'd better go straight on there."

"They're goin' through Plymouth, but the most direct way, and much shorter, is through Tavistock, which would bring us right into the cross-roads at Callington. We'd save a couple of hours by that, and, after all, they've got a `forty,' you know, while ours is only a `sixteen'. They'll make better pace than us up the hills."

"Very well," I said, "I leave it to you. We must be there first, in any case. Are they staying the night there?"

"Their man says so. 'E's a stranger, however, and 'e says they're a rum party."

"Oh! Why?" I asked in quick surprise.

"Well--sir," responded Gibbs, somewhat reluctantly, "it ain't for me to repeat what 'e said, seein' as they're friends o' yourn."

"Oh! whatever you say will make no difference," I a.s.sured him.

"Besides, they're not exactly my friends. Two of them I've never seen before in my life. So you can speak quite frankly. Indeed, I'm very anxious to hear what makes their man think they are mysterious." I recollected that Murray's reticence had aroused the curiosity of the hotel proprietor at Swanage, and wondered what else had occurred to cause the chauffeur to suspect that something was wrong.

"The car belongs to somebody named Rusden, who lives in Worcestershire, and the chauffeur is in his employ. Mr Rusden has lent the car to the party," Gibbs explained. "The chauffeur started from Stourbridge yesterday morning, with orders to meet a lady and gentleman at Chippenham station at midnight last night, and take 'em on all through the night to Swanage. There 'e picked up the gentleman and the young lady, and after two hours' rest was ordered to drive on down to Plymouth with all possible speed."

"But what makes him think there's any mystery about them? He, no doubt, received orders from his master."

"No, 'e didn't. That's just it. Mr Rusden told him to go to Chippenham and take the lady and gentleman to Aylesbury, whereas they gave him orders entirely different. An' besides that, the chauffeur overheard something this morning."

"What did he overhear?"

"The two men were talking together, and the elder said 'e hoped as 'ow they wouldn't be followed, or the whole show 'ud be give away."

"Curious," I remarked. "Very curious."

"Yes, sir. 'E told me as 'ow all along the road they've been urgin' 'im to go faster, but 'e wasn't goin' to risk being caught by a `heg'og'.

'E's evidently rather troubled, because 'e don't know what 'is master 'ull say at 'im comin' down here. Perhaps they're flyin' from the police--who knows?"

I laughed his suggestion into ridicule, yet at heart I was much puzzled.

What could it mean?

Why were they in such fear of being followed?

"Well," I said, "at any rate we'll push on to Upper Wooton, and see what they're going to do there."

"Then we'll go by Tavistock. The road is just off on the right, about a mile or so farther on," my companion said. "We ought to be there before dark, if we get no punctures," and he drew down his goggles from his cap and increased the speed of the car.

Once or twice I looked back, but saw no sign of the blue car following us. Murray and his friends were, no doubt, quietly having their tea in that pretty old garden.

For nearly an hour I sat in rigid silence, as one so often does for long periods when motoring. Was that round-faced fellow upon whom Ella had smiled actually her lover? Who, I wondered, was the elder woman? And why had they come to Chippenham at midnight to be met by a motor-car and drive on through the night? There was certainly some motive in that long night ride.

Was it possible that they were really escaping? It certainly seemed very much like it.

Ella's movements in leaving Lucie and her father so suddenly, and in flying from me when she had confessed that she still loved me, were all suspicious. Some very strong and sinister motive underlay it all--of that I felt absolutely convinced.

Darker clouds gathered over the hills between Two Bridges and Tavistock, and another sharp shower fell, making us uncomfortably wet, but we never, for one moment, slackened speed. The rain laid the dust, for which we were thankful. At Gunnislake, just as the twilight was falling, we crossed the Cornish border, and by lighting-up time we were at the cross-roads outside Callington, with only four miles farther to negotiate.