CHAPTER XV--_A New Cure for Headache_
"I wonder if General Sadgrove and Mr. Forsyth are lunatics?" SybilHanbury purred softly, after joining in the chorus of thanks whichgreeted a superb rendering of Strelezki's "Arlequin" on the long disusedgrand piano in the tapestry-room. This apartment was more cozy andhomelike than the vast white drawing-room at Beaumanoir House, but itwas quite large enough for isolated conversations.
The uncomplimentary confidence was made into the shell-like ear of Mrs.Talmage Eglinton, who, faultlessly gowned by Worth, was sitting apartwith her nominal hostess in the embrasure of an oriel window. The Dukewas hovering near the piano, and Forsyth was talking to Mrs. Sadgroveand Mrs. Sherman. The General was not present, having excused himselffrom coming straight from the dining-room on the plea of having a letterto write.
Sybil's disjointed remark--for it followed a discussion on Frenchcookery--caused a sudden twist of the ivory shoulders towards her, theswift eagerness of the movement being discounted by the languorous stareof slowly interested surprise. There was a hint of resentment, perhapsalso a trace of alarm, in the wheeling of the decolletee shoulders; inthe stare these emotions were corrected into a mild desire to hear moreof such a sweeping surmise.
"Lunatics--those two!" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton exclaimed, inwell-modulated astonishment. "That's what you English call rather alarge order, isn't it? What makes you say so?"
"Hush! My cousin is trying to persuade Miss Sherman to sing," repliedSybil. "Wait till she has begun, and I'll tell you. It's too funny tokeep to one's self."
For two days now the house-party at Prior's Tarrant had been increasedby the elegant addition of Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, and on the surfacematters were pursuing their normal course. The Duke had received hislatest guest with a democratic courtesy none the less cordial because ofher floridly expressed note, which in the stress of other preoccupationshe had forgotten altogether. He had a vague idea that the General hadwished the vivacious American to be included because she was a fellowcountrywoman of the Shermans, and that was quite enough to ensure hisgood-will towards her.
This view was so far from being the right one that Mrs. Sherman andLeonie had only succeeded in being coldly polite to the latest arrival.Mrs. Sadgrove, with an inkling that the beautifully dressed but tooeffusive American was an important factor in her husband's schemes, wasmore outwardly complacent, but it was reserved for Sybil to shower uponMrs. Talmage Eglinton special civilities which had ended, after two daysonly, in their becoming constant companions, if not bosom friends. Ifthe handsome visitor wanted to walk in the park or to be shown someobject of interest in the gardens, Sybil was always at hand to accompanyher; and if it rained, as it had done all this day, she spent hours inentertaining her in her own rooms.
As for Forsyth, Sybil deserted him entirely; and as the other ladiesabstained from discussing personal topics before the unpopular guest,there had been no making known beyond the small circle who knew italready of the new secretary's engagement to his employer's cousin.Singularly enough, this was one of the very few subjects which the girldid not touch upon in her confidences to her new friend.
Presently the importunities of the Duke, backed by a general murmur ofrequest, prevailed, and Leonie began a quaint old melody in a clearcontralto that at any other time would have held Sybil an enthralledlistener. As it was, she took instant advantage of the rippling flood ofsound that filled the room to resume her talk, though for the moment thecontinuity was not apparent.
"Beaumanoir House was burgled the other night, and we caught a mantrying to get into my cousin's bedroom," she whispered.
"No. Really? I--I saw nothing in the papers," replied Mrs. TalmageEglinton in even tones, but with another turn of the white shoulders anda sudden shading of her eyes the better to watch the fair narrator'sface.
"That was because the Duke let the man go--didn't want any fuss justafter coming into the title; and quite reasonable, I call it," Sybilproceeded. "And that's where the fun comes in. Mr. Forsyth insists thatmy cousin is the proposed victim of some diabolical plot, anarchist orotherwise, and he took General Sadgrove into his confidence. The oldgentleman, as you may not be aware, was a sort of policeman in India,and is cracked on finding out things. Naturally, to one of thattemperament, the mystery Mr. Forsyth chose to make out of a vulgarattempt at robbery was like a spark on tinder, and the General caught onat once. They're both fairly on the job--as amateur detectives, youknow--and they think they've got a clue."
"How truly interesting! And the clue?"
"Of the most remote kind--not even arrived at, _a la_ Sherlock Holmes,by inspecting cigarette ashes. It seems that Mr. Forsyth--who, by theway, had been to leave a card on you--met the Duke at the Cecil, comingaway from the suite of a Mr. Ziegler. He chose to think that my cousinwas looking agitated, whereas he was only tired after his voyage. Mr.Ziegler, therefore, if you please, has fallen under the ban of suspicionfrom these wiseacres, and is supposed to be murderously inclined towardsthe poor Duke. Even the mischief of some wretched boy in playing trickswith the train he traveled by the other night is attributed to thisprobably harmless Mr. Ziegler."
"And his Grace--does he also attribute these things to the samequarter?" asked Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, scarcely with the breathlessinterest due to such tremendous doings. She had a way of opening hereyes wide when putting a question--a mannerism which had the effect ofcreating doubt whether she was intensely eager or only bored.
"He thinks it all nonsense--same as I do," Sybil made answer. "He hastold these over-clever gentlemen to leave the thing alone, and I expectif he finds out what the General is up to that he'll turn them both outof the house and give Mr. Forsyth his dismissal. Of course, you won'tsay anything--will you?--because I'm only a poor relation, and I can'tafford to offend people."
"I am discretion itself. What is General Sadgrove up to, dear?" was thereply.
Sybil's pretty mouth bent close to confide the startling fact that theGeneral was going to London in the morning with the intention ofbearding Mr. Ziegler in his den--otherwise, in his rooms at the Cecil.If he should be refused permission to see Ziegler, or, seeing him,should be unable to satisfy himself of his respectability, he was goingstraight on to Scotland Yard to impart his suspicions to theauthorities. Sybil sketched the carrying out of this amazing programmeand its probable consequences with much animation and ridicule, but herhearer's interest tailed off into undisguised indifference, ending in adeliberate yawn.
"What a very stupid affair!" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton murmured. "Do youknow, it has made me quite sleepy, and--and I think I'll go to bed. Ihave started a real, clawing, hammering headache. Shouldn't wonder if Iam not laid up to-morrow."
Nodding a good-night to the others, she rose and swept from the room,followed by Sybil, who, profusely sympathetic, insisted on accompanyingher to her own apartments. At the door of the latter a dark-eyed,slender woman, in a black dress with broad white collar and cuffs, wasstanding. This was Rosa, the French maid, on whose services Mrs. TalmageEglinton professed herself entirely dependent.
"One of my headaches, Rosa. The pink draught--quickly!" cried theincipient invalid, and pausing on the threshold she bade an affectionategood-night to her girlish admirer. "I am not really ill--only a littlerun down," she assured her. "I do _hope_ I shan't have to keep my roomto-morrow."
The brilliant vision of Parisian elegance having vanished into the room,Sybil made her way downstairs, and in the hall encountered GeneralSadgrove, who wore a light overcoat over his evening things and a grayfelt hat. He was engaged in wiping the wet from his patent-leather shoeswith his handkerchief, but looked up on Sybil's approach, and, removinghis hat, went on with his occupation.
"Still raining?" said Sybil, carelessly.
"Like the very--I mean, like it used to in the monsoon," the Generalchecked himself.
No more passed, except a slight raising of the old soldier's eyebrowsand a corresponding droop of one of the lady's eyelids. The Generalhaving restored the gloss to his footge
ar and doffed his overcoat, theywent on with linked arms to the tapestry-room, where, however, the partyshortly broke up, the ladies to retire for the night, and the men to goto the smoking-room. The Duke remained but a short time, leaving theGeneral and Forsyth with the playful remark that he was growing quitebold after two days' immunity, and hoped they would not sit up allnight--which was exactly what one or other of them had been doing eversince they came to Prior's Tarrant, and, moreover, what they intended todo for the present.
"Sybil has done her part," said the General, as soon as he was alonewith his nephew. "And I have prepared Azimoolah to be on the lookout forresults. He tells me that the men in the dog-cart were outside the parkwall again last night, and that there was the same exhibition of a redlamp in that infernal French maid's window."
"An abortive attempt at communication?" asked Forsyth.
"That or something worse," replied the General. "It may only be that thewoman inside wants to confer with her confederates without; or it may bethat the red lamp is a signal to them not to approach any nearer or tryto get into the house. I incline to the latter being the explanation, ason each occasion the men in the cart have driven off immediately onseeing the red lamp, and there has been no attempt at short or longflashes, or any sort of code talk, Azimoolah tells me. In either case,it points to those beauties upstairs being aware that you and I are onguard, and that any attempt on their part to give admission to outsiderswould be frustrated."
"But if she knows that a watch is being kept, surely madam will not dareto leave the house?" suggested Forsyth, in the tentative tone that wasnecessary to preserve his uncle's good humor.
"If she does, it will show that she's cornered, and that Sybil's guesshas hit the bull's eye," said the General, adding, with a significantgrimace, "a preparatory headache has been started already. You hadbetter go to bed and leave me to see to the commencement of the cure."
Two hours later Azimoolah Khan, lying flattened out like a huge lizardon the parapet of the terrace, and thanking Allah that the rain hadceased, suddenly pricked up his ears and thanked Allah again that thetime for relieving his cramped limbs had come. At first his ears werethe only part of his body affected by the slight sound he had heard, butsome thirty seconds later, keeping the rest of him motionless, hegoggled his eyes round to one of the ground-floor windows andsaw--seeing in the dark was one of his accomplishments--a female figureturn from it and flit along the terrace towards the steps leading downto the park. Waiting till the figure had gained the lower level, he slidfrom the parapet and gave noiseless chase.
The woman in front spared no precaution to guard against pursuit. Shestopped many times and listened; she doubled on her tracks; and as soonas she reached the woodland belt she proved to be an expert in the artof taking cover. But she had to do with probably the most wily exponentof woodcraft at that moment in England, and her pursuer was never atfault. Dark as the night was, Azimoolah never lost her for an instant.With sinuous movements that never caused a twig to crack, the lithePathan was always creeping, gliding, dodging close behind, till hestopped within ten paces of the park wall, and from the shelter of anoak trunk watched his quarry nimbly climb the obstacle. No sooner hadshe disappeared than he swung himself to the top of the wall, and peeredover just as a horse broke into a trot on the other side.
Piercing the gloom, his keen sight distinguished the shape of afast-receding rubber-tired dog-cart, in which three figures were seated;and, having fulfilled his mission, he dropped back to the ground. In afew minutes he was on the terrace again, hissing like a cobra outsidethe smoking-room. General Sadgrove opened the French casement.
"The daughter of Sheitan came from the fifth window, and has gone away,even as the sahib predicted, in the cart with two men," Azimoolahreported.
"Which road did they take?"
"To the left--the Senalban road, sahib."
"St. Albans, eh? Then she's going to catch the 3.15 up night mail,"muttered the General. "Well, good-night, old _jungle-wallah_. You've gotyour orders," he added, closing and bolting the window.
The next morning there were two absentees from thebreakfast-table--General Sadgrove, who by overnight arrangement hadbreakfasted by himself, so as to be driven to Tarrant Road in time forthe nine o'clock train to town, and Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, who wasconfined to her bed by a bad headache. The news of the indisposition wasimparted to Sybil by the maid Rosa at her mistress's door, and wasaccompanied by a regretful but firm refusal of admission to the patient.
"Madame is so _desolee_ not to receive you, ma'amselle, but she 'ave zemalady too strr-rong for speak even with her dearest friend," was theultimatum which sent Miss Hanbury from the door with a doleful face,which somehow took quite a different expression when she had turned thecorner.
For some mysterious reason her aloofness from her lover vanished thatmorning, and she and Forsyth were on the best of terms. They spent twohours together wandering in the park, where in one of the more remoteglades Azimoolah flitted up to them from the bushes, and, regardingSybil with awe-struck veneration, made a deep salaam and was gone. TheDuke, who had given his word of honor to the General not to go beyondthe park gates, passed the time partly with his bailiff and partlystrolling with Leonie in the gardens and glass-houses. The friendshipbetween Beaumanoir and his beautiful guest, so promisingly begun onboard the _St. Paul_, seemed to have lost ground. Though he was much inher society, he avoided intimate topics, and often puzzled her with ahastily averted look of wistful tenderness in strange contrast to hisassiduous but commonplace hospitality.
Half an hour before luncheon General Sadgrove, returning on foot fromthe station and looking five years older for his run up to London, metthe two young couples, who had now joined forces, as they were enteringthe mansion. Forsyth gave his uncle an anxious glance of inquiry, butthe old man passed him by unheeding, and addressed the Duke in a tone oficy formality.
"I shall be obliged if your Grace will give me five minutes in thelibrary on a very urgent matter," he said, adding, with significantemphasis, "_I have been with Mr. Ziegler this morning._"
Beaumanoir, gone all pale and tremulous, made a palpable effort atself-control as he replied:
"Come into the library by all means, General. But I am afraid you willfind me quite as reticent as I am sure Ziegler was."
The interview lasted till long after the luncheon gong had sounded, andwhen at length the Duke and the General entered the dining-room twopairs of watchful eyes observed that their relative attitudes had beenreversed. The General's usually impassive face was working so painfullythat Mrs. Sadgrove half rose from her chair at sight of her husband,checking herself with difficulty; while the Duke bore himself almostjauntily, and began chaffing Sybil about her devotion to Mrs. TalmageEglinton, who was still, by latest bulletin from Rosa, "suffering zegrand torments" and unable to leave her room.
The afternoon passed without external signs that the house-party wasliving on the verge of an active volcano. But as it was growing duskForsyth, at the risk of being late for dinner, took a solitary walk inthe direction of a certain stile, by which the Prior's Tarrant pastureswere approached by a short cut across fields from Tarrant Road railwaystation. He arrived at the stile in the nick of time to give a helpinghand to Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, who had just reached the spot from theopposite direction. The hour was the one when the guests at the housemight be expected to be dressing for dinner, and it also tallied withthe arrival of a London train at the station; but neither alluded tothese incidentals of such an obviously chance meeting.
"I trust that your headache is better," said Forsyth, politely.
But the headache, he was assured, was rather worse than better. Thesufferer averred that she had slipped out an hour before, to go for aquiet walk in the meadows in the hope of obtaining relief; but theremedy had been of no avail, and all that remained was to go back tobed.
"Won't you walk back with me?" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton added, devouringthe young Scotsman's healthy, good-looking face with eyes of invita
tion."I don't seem ever to get you alone nowadays."
"I am very sorry, but I have to go a little further," replied Forsyth,and, raising his hat, he passed on. But it was a very little way furtherthat he had to go, for at the end of the first meadow he turned andfollowed in the lady's wake back to the mansion, catching, as he did so,a glimpse of Azimoolah moving stealthily in the bushes at the side ofthe path.
That night the post-bag which one of the Prior's Tarrant grooms conveyedto the office in the village contained a letter addressed to "ClintonZiegler, Esqre.," at the Hotel Cecil, couched thus:
"_The gentleman interviewed in the Bowery, New York, by Mr. Jevons on your behalf has reconsidered the matter, and is now prepared to carry out his commitment. He is so shaken by recent occurrences that he does not feel up to coming himself till he has received assurances, but his secretary will call at the hotel on Monday for instructions, which please hand to the secretary in writing and carefully sealed._"