CHAPTER XIII
A GREAT WORK
The Countess of Deringham might be excused for considering herself themost unfortunate woman in England. In a single week she had passed fromthe position of one of the most brilliant leaders of English society tobe the keeper of a recluse, whose sanity was at least doubtful. Herhusband, Admiral the Earl of Deringham, had been a man of iron nerve andconstitution, with a splendid reputation, and undoubtedly a fine seaman.The horror of a single day had broken up his life. He had been theawe-stricken witness of a great naval catastrophe, in which many of hisoldest friends and companions had gone to the bottom of the sea beforehis eyes, together with nearly a thousand British seamen. Theresponsibility for the disaster lay chiefly from those who had perishedin it, yet some small share of the blame was fastened upon theonlookers, and he himself, as admiral in command, had not altogetherescaped. From the moment when they had led him down from the bridge ofhis flagship, grey and fainting, he had been a changed man. He had neverrecovered from the shock. He retired from active service at once, undera singular and marvellously persistent delusion. Briefly he believed, orprofessed to believe, that half the British fleet had perished, and thatthe country was at the mercy of the first great Power who cared to sendher warships up the Thames. It was a question whether he was reallyinsane; on any ordinary topic his views were the views of a rationalman, but the task which he proceeded to set himself was so absorbingthat any other subject seemed scarcely to come within the horizon of hiscomprehension. He imagined himself selected by no less a person than theSecretary for War, to devote the rest of his life to the accomplishmentof a certain undertaking! Practically his mission was to prove byfigures, plans, and naval details (unknown to the general public), thecomplete helplessness of the empire. He bought a yacht and commenced aseries of short cruises, lasting over two years, during the whole ofwhich time his wife was his faithful and constant companion. Theyvisited in turn each one of the fortified ports of the country, windingup with a general inspection of every battleship and cruiser withinBritish waters. Then, with huge piles of amassed information before him,he settled down in Norfolk to the framing of his report, still under theimpression that the whole country was anxiously awaiting it. His wiferemained with him then, listening daily to the news of his progress, andcareful never to utter a single word of discouragement or disbelief inthe startling facts which he sometimes put before her. The best room inthe house, the great library, was stripped perfectly bare and fitted upfor his study, and a typist was engaged to copy out the result of hislabours in fair form. Lately, the fatal results to England which wouldfollow the public disclosure of her awful helplessness had weighedheavily upon him, and he was beginning to live in the fear of betrayal.The room in which he worked was fitted with iron shutters, and wasguarded night and day. He saw no visitors, and was annoyed if any werepermitted to enter the house. He met his wife only at dinner time, forwhich meal he dressed in great state, and at which no one else was everallowed to be present. He suffered, when they were alone, no word topass his lips, save with reference to the subject of his labours; it iscertain he looked upon himself as the discoverer of terrible secrets.Any remark addressed to him upon other matters utterly failed to makeany impression. If he heard it he did not reply. He would simply lookpuzzled, and, as speedily as possible withdraw. He was sixty years ofage, of dignified and kindly appearance; a handsome man still, save thatthe fire of his blue eyes was quenched, and the firm lines of hiscommanding mouth had become tremulous. Wolfenden, on his arrival, wasmet in the hall by his mother, who carried him off at once to have teain her own room. As he took a low chair opposite to her he was consciousat once of a distinct sense of self-reproach. Although still a handsomewoman, the Countess of Deringham was only the wreck of her formerbrilliant self. Wolfenden, knowing what her life must be, under itsaltered circumstances, could scarcely wonder at it. The black hair wasstill only faintly streaked with grey, and her figure was as slim andupright as ever. But there were lines on her forehead and about hereyes, her cheeks were thinner, and even her hands were wasted. He lookedat her in silent pity, and although a man of singularly undemonstrativehabits, he took her hand in his and pressed it gently. Then he sethimself to talk as cheerfully as possible.
"There is nothing much wrong physically with the Admiral, I hope?" hesaid, calling him by the name they still always gave him. "I saw himat the window as I came round. By the bye, what is that extraordinarylooking affair like a sentry-box doing there?"
The Countess sighed.
"That is part of what I have to tell you," she said. "A sentry-box isexactly what it is, and if you had looked inside you would have seenDunn or Heggs there keeping guard. In health your father seems as wellas ever; mentally, I am afraid that he is worse. I fear that he isgetting very bad indeed. That is why I have sent for you, Wolf!"
Wolfenden was seriously and genuinely concerned. Surely his mother hadhad enough to bear.
"I am very sorry," he said. "Your letter prepared me a little for this;you must tell me all about it."
"He has suddenly become the victim," the Countess said, "of a new andmost extraordinary delusion. How it came to pass I cannot exactly tell,but this is what happened. He has a bed, you know, made up in anante-room, leading from the library, and he sleeps there generally.Early this morning the whole house was awakened by the sound of tworevolver shots. I hurried down in my dressing-gown, and found some ofthe servants already outside the library door, which was locked andbarred on the inside. When he heard my voice he let me in. The room wasin partial darkness and some disorder. He had a smoking revolver in hishand, and he was muttering to himself so fast that I could notunderstand a word he said. The chest which holds all his maps and papershad been dragged into the middle of the room, and the iron staple hadbeen twisted, as though with a heavy blow. I saw that the lamp wasflickering and a current of air was in the room, and when I lookedtowards the window I found that the shutters were open and one of thesashes had been lifted. All at once he became coherent.
"'Send for Morton and Philip Dunn!' he cried. 'Let the shrubbery and allthe Home Park be searched. Let no one pass out of either of the gates.There have been thieves here!'
"I gave his orders to Morton. 'Where is Richardson?' I asked. Richardsonwas supposed to have been watching outside. Before he could answerRichardson came in through the window. His forehead was bleeding, asthough from a blow.
"'What has happened, Richardson?' I asked. The man hesitated and lookedat your father. Your father answered instead.
"'I woke up five minutes ago,' he cried, 'and found two men here. Howthey got past Richardson I don't know, but they were in the room, andthey had dragged my chest out there, and had forced a crowbar throughthe lock! I was just in time; I hit one man in the arm and he firedback. Then they bolted right past Richardson. They must have nearlyknocked you down. You must have been asleep, you idiot,' he cried, 'oryou could have stopped them!'
"I turned to Richardson; he did not say a word, but he looked at memeaningly. The Admiral was examining his chest, so I drew Richardson onone side.
"'Is this true, Richardson?' I asked. The man shook his head.
"'No, your ladyship,' he said bluntly, 'it ain't; there's no two menbeen here at all! The master dragged the chest out himself; I heard himdoing it, and I saw the light, so I left my box and stepped into theroom to see what was wrong. Directly he saw me he yelled out and let flyat me with his revolver! It's a wonder I'm alive, for one of the bulletsgrazed my temple!'
"Then he went on to say that he would like to leave, that no wages weregood enough to be shot at, and plainly hinted that he thought yourfather ought to be locked up. I talked him over, and then got theAdmiral to go back to bed. We had the place searched as a matter ofform, but of course there was no sign of anybody. He had imagined thewhole thing! It is a mercy that he did not kill Richardson!"
"This is very serious," Wolfenden said gravely. "What about hisrevolver?"
"I managed to secure that," the C
ountess said. "It is locked up in mydrawer, but I am afraid that he may ask for it at any moment."
"We can make that all right," Wolfenden said; "I know where there aresome blank cartridges in the gun-room, and I will reload the revolverwith them. By the bye, what does Blatherwick say about all this?"
"He is almost as worried as I am, poor little man," Lady Deringham said."I am afraid every day that he will give it up and leave. We are payinghim five hundred a year, but it must be miserable work for him. It isreally almost amusing, though, to see how terrified he is at yourfather. He positively shakes when he speaks to him."
"What does he have to do?" Wolfenden asked.
"Oh, draw maps and make calculations and copy all sorts of things. Yousee it is wasted and purposeless work, that is what makes it so hard forthe poor man."
"You are quite sure, I suppose," Wolfenden asked, after a moment'shesitation, "that it is all wasted work?"
"Absolutely," the Countess declared. "Mr. Blatherwick brings me,sometimes in despair, sheets upon which he has been engaged for days.They are all just a hopeless tangle of figures and wild calculations!Nobody could possibly make anything coherent out of them."
"I wonder," Wolfenden suggested thoughtfully, "whether it would be agood idea to get Denvers, the secretary, to write and ask him not to goon with the work for the present. He could easily make some excuse--saythat it was attracting attention which they desired to avoid, orsomething of that sort! Denvers is a good fellow, and he and the Admiralwere great friends once, weren't they?"
The Countess shook her head.
"I am afraid that would not do at all," she said. "Besides, out of puregood nature, of course, Denvers has already encouraged him. Only lastweek he wrote him a friendly letter hoping that he was getting on, andtelling him how interested every one in the War Office was to hear abouthis work. He has known about it all the time, you see. Then, too, if theoccupation were taken from your father, I am afraid he would break downaltogether."
"Of course there is that to be feared," Wolfenden admitted. "I wonderwhat put this new delusion into his head? Does he suspect any one inparticular?"
The Countess shook her head.
"I do not think so; of course it was Miss Merton who started it. Hequite believes that she took copies of all the work she did here, but hewas so pleased with himself at the idea of having found her out, that hehas troubled very little about it. He seems to think that she had notreached the most important part of his work, and he is copying thathimself now by hand."
"But outside the house has he no suspicions at all?"
"Not that I know of; not any definite suspicion. He was talking lastnight of Duchesne, the great spy and adventurer, in a rambling sort ofway. 'Duchesne would be the man to get hold of my work if he knew ofit,' he kept on saying. 'But none must know of it! The newspapers mustbe quiet! It is a terrible danger!' He talked like that for some time.No, I do not think that he suspects anybody. It is more a generaluneasiness."
"Poor old chap!" Wolfenden said softly. "What does Dr. Whitlett thinkof him? Has he seen him lately? I wonder if there is any chance of hisgetting over it?"
"None at all," she answered. "Dr. Whitlett is quite frank; he will neverrecover what he has lost--he will probably lose more. But come, there isthe dressing bell. You will see him for yourself at dinner. Whatever youdo don't be late--he hates any one to be a minute behind time."