XIII
That night Stephen dreamed troubled dreams about Victoria. All sorts ofstrange things were happening behind a locked door, he never quite knewwhat, though he seemed forever trying to find out. In the morning,before he was dressed, Mahommed brought a letter to his door; only one,on a small tray. It was the first letter he had received since leavingLondon--he, who had been used to sighing over the pile that heaped upwith every new post, and must presently be answered.
He recognized the handwriting at a glance, though he had seen it onlyonce, in a note written to Lady MacGregor. The letter was from Victoria,and was addressed to "Mr. Stephen Knight," in American fashion--afashion unattractive to English eyes. But because it was Victoria's way,it seemed to Stephen simple and unaffected, like herself. Besides, shewas not aware that he had any kind of handle to his name.
"Now I shall know where she was last night," he said to himself, and wasabout to tear open the envelope, when suddenly the thought that she hadtouched the paper made him tender in his usage of it. He found apaper-knife and with careful precision cut the envelope along the top.The slight delay whetted his eagerness to read what Victoria had totell. She had probably heard of the visit which she had missed, and hadwritten this letter before going to bed. It was a sweet thought of thegirl's to be so prompt in explaining her absence, guessing that he musthave suffered some anxiety.
"DEAR MR. KNIGHT,"
he read, the blood slowly mounting to his face as his eyes travelledfrom line to line,
"I don't know what you will think of me when I have told you about the thing I am going to do. But whatever you may think, don't think me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am not that. I hate to go away without seeing you again, yet I must; and I can't even tell you why, or where I am going--that is the worst. But if you could know why, I'm almost sure you would feel that I am doing the right thing, and the only thing possible. Before all and above all with me, must be my sister's good. Everything else has to be sacrificed to that, even things that I value very, very much.
"Don't imagine though, from what I say, that I'm making a great sacrifice, so far as any danger to myself is concerned. The sacrifice is, to risk being thought unkind, ungrateful, by you, and of losing your friendship. This is the _only_ danger I am running, really; so don't fear for me, and please forgive me if you can. Just at the moment I must seem (as well as ungracious) a little mysterious, not because I want to be mysterious, but because it is forced on me by circumstances. I hate it, and soon I hope I shall be able to be as frank and open with you as I was at first, when I saw how good you were about taking an interest in my sister Saidee. I think, as far as I can see ahead, I may write to you in a fortnight. Then, I shall have news to tell, the _best of news_, I hope; and I won't need to keep anything back. By that time I may tell you all that has happened, since bidding you and Mr. Caird good-bye, at the door of his beautiful house, and all that will have happened by the time I can begin the letter. How I wish it were now!
"There's just one more word I want to say, that I really can say without doing harm to anybody or to any plan. It's this. I did feel so guilty when you talked about your motoring with Mr. Caird to Tlemcen. It was splendid of you both to be willing to go, and you must have thought me cold and half-hearted about it. But I couldn't tell you what was in my mind, even then. I didn't know what was before me; but there was already a thing which I had to keep from you. It was only a small thing. But now it has grown to be a very big one.
"Good-bye, my dear friend Mr. Knight. I like to call you my friend, and I shall always remember how good you were to me, if, for any reason, we should never see each other again. It is very likely we may not meet, for I don't know how long you are going to stay in Africa, or how long I shall stay, so it may be that you will go back to England soon. I don't suppose I shall go there. When I can leave this country it will be to sail for America with my sister--_never without her_. But I shall write, as I said, in a fortnight, if all is well--indeed, I shall write whatever happens. I shall be able to give you an address, too, I hope very much, because I should like to hear from you. And I shall pray that you may always be happy.
"I meant this to be quite a short letter, but after all it is a long one! Good-bye again, and give my best remembrances to Lady MacGregor and Mr. Caird, if they are not disgusted with me for the way I am behaving. Gratefully your friend,
"VICTORIA RAY."
There was no room for any anger against the girl in Stephen's heart. Hewas furious, but not with her. And he did not know with whom to beangry. There was some one--there must be some one--who had persuaded herto take this step in the dark, and this secret person deserved all hisanger and more. To persuade a young girl to turn from the only friendsshe had who could protect her, was a crime. Stephen could imagine nogood purpose to be served by mystery, and he could imagine many badones. The very thought of the best among them made him physically sick.There was a throat somewhere in the world which his fingers weretingling to choke; and he did not know where, or whose it was. It madehis head ache with a rush of beating blood not to know. And realizingsuddenly, with a shock like a blow in the face, the violence of hisdesire to punish some person unknown, he saw how intimate a place thegirl had in his heart. The longing to protect her, to save her from harmor treachery, was so intense as to give pain. He felt as if a lasso hadbeen thrown round his body, pressing his lungs, roping his arms to hissides, holding him helpless; and for a moment the sensation was sopowerful that he was conscious of a severe effort, as if to break awayfrom the spell of a hypnotist.
It was only for a moment that he stood still, though a thousand thoughtsran through his head, as in a dream--as in the dreams of last night,which had seemed so interminable.
The thing to do was to find out at once what had become of Victoria,whom she had seen, who had enticed her to leave the hotel. It would nottake long to find out these things. At most she could not have been gonemore than thirteen or fourteen hours.
At first, in his impatience, he forgot Nevill. In two or three minuteshe had finished dressing, and was ready to start out alone when thethought of his friend flashed into his mind. He knew that Nevill Caird,acquainted as he was with Algiers, would be able to suggest things thathe might not think of unaided. It would be better that they two shouldset to work together, even though it might mean a delay of a few minutesin the beginning.
He put Victoria's letter in his pocket, meaning to show it to Nevill asthe quickest way of explaining what had happened and what he wanted todo; but before he had got to his friend's door, he knew that he couldnot bear to show the letter. There was nothing in it which Nevill mightnot see, nothing which Victoria might not have wished him to see.Nevertheless it was now _his_ letter, and he could not have it read byany one.
He knocked at the door, but Nevill did not answer. Then Stephen guessedthat his friend must be in the garden. One of the under-gardeners,working near the house, had seen the master, and told the guest where togo. Monsieur Caird was giving medicine to the white peacock, who was notwell, and in the stable-yard Nevill was found, in the act of pouringsomething down the peacock's throat with a spoon.
When he heard what Stephen had to say, he looked very grave.
"I wish Miss Ray hadn't stopped at that hotel," he said.
"Why?" Stephen asked sharply. "You don't think the people there----"
"I don't know what to think. But I have a sort of idea the brutes knewsomething last night and wouldn't tell."
"They'll have to tell!" exclaimed Stephen.
Nevill did not answer.
"I shall go down at once," Stephen went on.
"Of course I'll go with you," said his friend.
They had forgotten about breakfast. Stopping only to get their hats,they started
for the town.