Wilfrid Mercer had walked back to Oldborough very thoughtfully. Theevents of the past hour or two appeared to have changed the wholecurrent of his existence. He had parted with the old life altogether,and had set himself down doggedly to the humdrum career of a countrypractitioner. No more long voyages, no adventures more exciting thanthe gain of a new patient or the loss of an old one. He had notdisguised from himself that life in Oldborough would be monotonous,possibly nothing but a sordid struggle. But he would get used to it intime, and perhaps even take an interest in local politics.
But already all was changed. It was changed by a simple accident toSamuel Flower. There was some inscrutable mystery here and, to acertain extent, Wilfrid held the key to it. It seemed to him, speakingfrom his own point of view, that he knew far more about the affair thanFlower himself.
It was as well, too, that nothing should have happened to cause BeatriceGalloway any fear for the future. She might be puzzled and curious, butWilfrid did not believe that she attached any significance to the pieceof string. The string she found appeared to have been dropped byaccident as, no doubt, it was; but behind that there lay something whichspoke only to Wilfrid Mercer and Samuel Flower.
The more Wilfrid debated the matter, the more certain did he feel thatFlower saw in this thing a deadly menace to himself. Wilfrid had notforgotten the look of livid fear on Flower's face when Beatrice handedthe string to him. He had not forgotten the sudden cry that burst fromFlower's lips. He did not believe that the ship-owner suffered fromneuralgia. The most important point was to find out whether Flowerunderstood the nature of the warning. Did he know that the mystery hadbeen hatched in the Malay Archipelago? Did he know that the nativesthere had invented a mode of taking life which baffled even modernmedical science? If Flower knew, then he might make a bold bid for lifeand liberty. If not, then his very existence was in peril.
So far Wilfrid's reasoning was clear. But now he struck against a knotin the wood and his plane could no go farther. What connexion was therebetween a prosaic British citizen like Samuel Flower and a bloodthirstyMalay on the prowl for vengeance? So far as Wilfrid knew, Flower hadspent the whole of his life in London, where such contingencies are notlikely to occur. The point was a difficult one to solve, and Wilfrid wasstill hammering at it when he reached home. Something like illuminationcame to him while dressing for dinner.
He wondered why he had not thought of it before. Of course, as aship-owner, Samuel Flower would come in contact with all sorts andconditions of men. The crews of the Flower Line were drawn from allparts of the world. And amongst them Malays and Lascars figuredprominently. Wilfrid recollected that there had been many Malaysengaged in the mutiny on the _Guelder Rose_. Matters began to grow moreclear.
The night was fine and bright and the sky full of stars as Wilfrid setout to walk to Maldon Grange. He would not be justified in theextravagance of a cab, for the distance was not more than four miles andhe had been told of a short cut across the fields. At the end of halfan hour a moon crept over from the wooded hills on the far side, so thatobjects began to stand out clear and crisp. Here was the path he mustfollow, and there were the spinneys and covers with which Maldon Grangewas surrounded. Most of the fallen leaves were rotting under foot. Theride down which Wilfrid had turned was soft and mossy to his tread. Hewent along so quietly that he did not even disturb the pheasantsroosting in the trees. He passed a rabbit or two so close that he couldhave touched them with his walking-stick. The rays of the moonpenetrated the branches here and there and threw small patches of silveron the carpet of turf. Wilfrid had reached the centre of the wood wherethe undergrowth had been cleared away recently. Looking down the longavenue of trees, it seemed as if he were standing in the nave of a vastcathedral filled with great stone columns. For a moment he stoodadmiring the quiet beauty of it. Then he moved on again. His onethought was to reach his destination. He did not notice for a moment ortwo that a figure was flitting along the opening to his left or thatanother figure a little way off came out to meet it. When he did becomeaware that he was no longer alone he paused in the shadow of a hugebeech and watched. He did not want to ask who these people were.Probably he was on the track of a couple of poachers.
But though the figures stood out clearly in the moonlight, Wilfrid couldsee no weapons, or nets, or other implements of the poaching trade.These intruders seemed to be little more than boys if size went foranything, and surely two poachers would not have seated themselves onthe grass and proceeded to light a fire as these men were doing now.They sat gravely opposite one another talking and gesticulating in a waynot in the least like the style of phlegmatic Englishmen. In a fashion,they reminded Wilfrid of two intelligent apes discussing a handful ofnuts in some zoological garden. But then apes were not clothed, andthese two strangers were clad. It was, perhaps, no business of his, buthe stood behind the shadow of a tree watching them. He saw one reachout and gather a handful of sticks together; then a match was appliedand the whole mass burst into a clear, steady and smokeless flame. Theblaze hovered over the top of the sticks much as the flame of a spiritlamp might have done. With Wilfrid's knowledge of camp fires he wassure that a casual handful of sticks would never have given so clear andlambent a flame. He forgot all about his appointment at Maldon Grange,his curiosity overcoming every other feeling. He really must discoverwhat these fellows were doing.
It was easy to creep from tree to tree until he was within thirty orforty yards of the two squatting figures. He saw that the fire wasburning as brightly and clearly as ever. He saw one of the strangersproduce a small brass pot into which he dropped a pinch or two ofpowder. Then the vessel was suspended over the fire, and a few momentslater a thin violet vapour spread itself out under the heavy atmosphereof the trees until the savour of it reached the watcher's nostrils. Itwas a weird sort of perfume, sweet and intensely soothing to the nerves.It seemed to Wilfrid that he had never smelt the like of it before, andyet there was a suggestion of familiarity about it. Where had he beenin contact with such vapour? How did it recall the tropics? Why was itassociated with some tragedy? But rack his brains as he might he couldmake nothing of it. He felt like a man who tries to fit together thevague outlines of some misty dream. Doubtless it would come to himpresently, but for the moment he was at fault. His idea now was tocreep farther forward and try to see something of the faces of thismysterious pair. The mossy carpet under foot was soft enough, but therewas one thing Wilfrid had not reckoned on. Placing his foot on a pileof dead leaves a stick underneath snapped suddenly with a noise like apistol-shot. In a flash Mercer crouched down, but it was too late. Asif it had been blown out with a fierce blast of wind, the fire wasextinguished, the brass pot vanished, and the two figures dissolved intothin air. It was amazing, incredible. Here were the scattered treeswith the moonlight shining through the bare branches. Here was therecently cleared ground. But where had those wanderers vanished?Wilfrid dashed forward hastily, but they had gone as swiftly andillusively as a pair of squirrels. Mercer drew his hand across his eyesand asked whether he were not the victim of hallucination. It wasimpossible for those men to have left the wood already. And, besides,there were the charred embers of the sticks yet warm to the touch,though there was no semblance of flame, or even a touch of sullen red.There was nothing but to go on to Maldon Grange and wait the turn ofevents. That these strangers were after no good Wilfrid felt certain.But whether they had or had not any connexion with the warning to SamuelFlower he could not say. He would keep the discovery to himself.
He was in the house at length. He heard his name called out as heentered the drawing-room. He was glad when Beatrice came forward, for hefelt a little shy and uncomfortable before all these strangers.
"I am so glad you came," Beatrice murmured. "Stay here a moment. I havesomething important to say to you."