In an instant the bewildering mystery of it all became apparent.
The fellow Shacklock, the dark-faced man whom I could at once denounce to the police as a rogue2 and a thief, held her enthralled3!
“Welcome, dearest!” he said, as his lips touched hers. “I hope you are not too tired.”
But I saw that she was pale, and that she shrank from his touch. Ah! yes! she loathed4 him.
Standing5 there in the shadow of the overhanging trees, I watched them all disappear into the house.
The servant in black, after carrying up their luggage, shut the gate, therefore I crept forward and peered into the drawing-room. It was, however, empty, for they had all passed upstairs to remove the stains of travel before sitting down to dinner.
A thousand weird6 thoughts surged through my brain. That man Gordon-Wright was my enemy, and I intended that he should not win my love.
The whole position of affairs was utterly7 incomprehensible. This man, whom I could prove to be a clever international thief, was the most intimate friend of James Harding Miller8, gentleman, of Studland. While he had been visiting there, Ella had escaped from her father and gone to Studland, in all probability to see him, or to consult him upon some important matter. She had made no sign to the Millers9 that she was previously10 acquainted with their guest. The conclusion, therefore, was that both Lucie and her father were in utter ignorance of the curious truth. Ella had left suddenly and travelled by motor-car to Upper Wooton, while he must have left immediately after my departure from Studland, and travelled by train by way of Yeovil.
To Mr Murray and the rest of the party he appeared as though he had not been away from home. Only Ella knew the truth, and she was silent. That there was some extraordinary manoeuvre11 in progress I was convinced. The Murrays of Wichenford were one of the county families of Worcestershire, and Ella’s father had always been an upright, if rather proud man. He was, I knew, the very last person to associate with a man of Shacklock’s stamp had he but known his real character.
On the contrary, however, he had grasped the man’s hand warmly when he descended12, saying:—
“Why, my dear fellow, it’s quite two months since we met! How are you?”
And the pseudo-lieutenant was equally enthusiastic in his welcome in return. He was the host; “the London gentleman” known locally as Mr Gordon-Wright.
This was by no means extraordinary. In our country villages and their vicinity hundreds of people are, at this moment, occupying big houses, and under assumed names passing themselves off for what they are not. Summer visitors to the rural districts are often a queer lot, and many a gentleman known as Mr Brown, the smug attendant at the village church, is in reality Mr Green whose means of livelihood14 would not bear looking into. From time to time a man is unmasked, and a paragraph appears in the papers, but such persons are usually far too wary15 when it is a matter of effacing16 their identity under the very nose of the police, and enjoy the confidence and esteem17 of both the villagers and “the county.”
So it evidently was with “Mr Gordon-Wright.”
Consumed by hatred18, and longing19 to go forward and unmask him as the ingenious swindler who stole Blenkap’s money, I stood at the gate, eager to obtain another glimpse of the woman who he intended should be his victim.
What was the nature of his all-powerful influence over her, I wondered? She loved me still. Had she not admitted that? And yet she dare not break from this man whose life was one long living lie!
“Fortunately I’ve discovered you,” I said, between my teeth, speaking to myself. “You shall never wreck20 her happiness, that I’m determined21! A word from me to Scotland Yard, and you will be arrested, my fine gentleman.” And I laughed, recollecting22 how entirely23 his future was in my hands.
He had already dressed for dinner before the arrival of the party, and I overheard him shouting to Murray not to trouble to change, it being so late. Then he came along the hall, and stood at the door, gazing straight in my direction, his hands in the pockets of his dinner-jacket, awaiting his guests.
He could not see me, I knew, for the roadway was rendered very dark at that point by the trees that almost met overhead. Therefore I watched his thin clean-shaven face, and saw upon its evil features an expression of intense anxiety which was certainly not there when we had met earlier that day in Dorsetshire.
Ella was the first to descend13. She had exchanged her dark dress for a gown of pale blue Liberty silk, high at the throat, and, though simply made, it suited her admirably. The fellow turned at the sound of her footstep, and hurrying towards her, took her hand, and led her outside upon the gravelled drive.
“The others, of course, have no idea that I’ve been to Studland!” I heard him whisper to her anxiously as they stood there together in the shadow, away from the stream of light that shone from the open door.
“I told them nothing,” was her calm answer, in a voice that seemed inert24 and mechanical.
“I only arrived here an hour ago. I feared that you might be here before me. You, of course, delayed them by excuses, as I suggested.”
“Yes. We had tea on the way, and we came the longer way round, by Plymouth, as you told me.”
“It was lucky for you that you left the Millers as early as you did,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because they had a visitor. He came an hour or so after you’d gone. I found him talking to Lucie, and she introduced me. His name was Leaf.”
I saw that she started at mention of my name. But with admirable self-control she asked:—
“Well, and what did he want?”
“Wanted to see you. And what’s more, Lucie told me after he’d gone that he had once been engaged to you. Is that true?”
“I’ve known him a good many years,” was my loved one’s evasive answer, as though she feared to arouse his anger or jealousy25 by an acknowledgment of the truth.
“I ask you, Ella, a simple question—is what Lucie Miller has said true? Were you ever engaged to that man?” he asked very seriously.
“There was not an actual engagement,” was her answer, and I saw that she feared to tell him the truth.
What right had the fellow to question her? I had difficulty in restraining myself from rushing forward and boldly exposing him as the thief and adventurer he was.
“Lucie, in answer to my question, told me that you had lost sight of each other for several years, and that you believed him dead.”
“That is so.”
“And that he has been travelling on the Continent the whole time?”
“I believe he has,” was her reply, whereupon he remained in silence for some moments, as though reflecting deeply. Was it possible that, after all, he had recognised me as the man who he had intended should be his cat’s-paw in the Blenkap affair?
I felt certain that he was endeavouring to recall my face.
“Your father knows nothing of my friendship with Miller?” he asked suddenly, with some apprehension26.
“I have told him nothing, as you forbade me.”
“Good. He must not know. It’s better not.”
“Why?”
“Well, because your father has a long-standing quarrel with Miller, has he not? If he knew we were friends he might not like it. Some men have curious prejudices,” he added.
His explanation apparently27 satisfied her, but he, on his part, returned to his previous questions regarding myself.
“Tell me,” he urged, “who is this fellow Leaf? If you were fond of him I surely have a right to know who and what he is?”
“He’s a gentleman whom I first knew years ago, soon after I came home from school.”
“And you fell in love with him, like every school-girl does, eh?”
She nodded in the affirmative, but vouchsafed28 no further information.
“Well,” he said, in a tone of authority, “you will not meet him again under any consideration. I forbid it. Remember that.”
She was silent, her head downcast, for in that man’s hands she was as wax. He held her in some thraldom29 that I saw was as complete as it was terrible. His very presence seemed to cause her to hold her breath, and to tremble.
“Last night,” he continued, “you crept downstairs after you had gone to your room, and you listened at the door of the smoking-room, where I was talking with Miller,” and he laughed as he saw how she started at his accusation30. “Yes, you see I know all about it. The faithful Minton, who saw you, told me,” he went on in a hard voice. “You overheard something—something that has very much surprised you. Now there’s an old adage31 that says listeners never hear any good of themselves. Therefore we must come to a thorough understanding as soon as we can get a quiet half-hour alone together.”
“I think it is perfectly32 unnecessary,” she said, with some attempt at defiance33.
“There, I beg to differ,” he answered. “You have learnt a secret, and I must have some adequate guarantee that that secret is kept—that no single word of it is breathed to a living soul. You understand, Ella,” he added, in a low, fierce half-whisper, lowering his dark clean-shaven face to hers. “You understand! My life depends upon it!”
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1
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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3
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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6
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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7
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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8
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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millers
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| n.（尤指面粉厂的）厂主( miller的名词复数 )；磨房主；碾磨工；铣工 | |
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10
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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12
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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13
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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14
livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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15
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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16
effacing
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| 谦逊的 | |
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17
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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18
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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19
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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20
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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21
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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22
recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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23
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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24
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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26
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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28
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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29
thraldom
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| n.奴隶的身份，奴役，束缚 | |
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30
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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31
adage
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| n.格言，古训 | |
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32
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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33
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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