CHAPTER XV
I RECEIVE VISITORS
Over my breakfast, on the following morning, I began to formulate thatplan which was to lead to an extraordinary discovery. I breakfasted inmy own room, and just as I had finished and was about to light mypipe, Mr. Martin, the landlord, knocked at the door.
"Come in," I cried.
He entered, and:
"A lady has called to see you, sir," he announced.
The manner in which he made the statement evidenced a curious mixtureof disapproval and respect. For my own part it is perhaps unnecessaryfor me to say that my first thought, as always, was Isobel! In thevery moment, however, that this idea visited me (the wish being fatherof the thought) I recognized its folly.
"A lady," I repeated; "but I know no one here. Are you certain that itwas for me she asked?"
"Quite, sir," replied the landlord, who was evidently flurried out ofhis usual calm by what I gathered to be an episode unprecedented inhis memories of the Abbey Inn. "Mr. Addison, she asked for. She iswaiting in the coffee-room, sir."
Wholly at a loss to understand who my visitor could be, I made my wayto the little apartment at the side of the bar-parlor which Mr. Martinhad dignified with the title of coffee-room. I observed upon the benchbefore the door a shabby-looking fellow whom I might have taken to besome local tradesman except that he appeared to be a chance visitorand was evidently unacquainted with Martin. He was reading a newspaperand I saw a cup of coffee set upon the bench beside him.
This was a hazy morning, which I thought betokened another hot day,and as I entered the "coffee-room" I found it to be pervaded by acurious half-light, not unlike that of summer twilight. The glow ofthe sun peering redly through the mist added warmth to this softillumination, but since the room boasted only one small window it wasbadly lighted even at noon.
From a little horse-hair-covered sofa set before this window myvisitor rose to greet me, and with my hand upon the knob of the door Ipaused. For certainly this was a stranger who stood before me!
She was tall and very slender, attired with great elegance, and in herwhole appearance there was something markedly foreign--or perhaps Ishould say exotic. She wore a small hat which I judged to be Parisianand expensive, and from its brim depended a figured veil whicheffectually disguised her features, without being able or perhapswithout being intended to disguise her brilliant, almond-shaped eyes.For one moment, a dreadful idea presented itself to me; but the mostappalling memory which I retained of those other witch-eyes aroundwhich so much mystery clustered was their brilliant greenness. Theeyes of my visitor, although unusually large and brilliant, weretotally different in shape, being long and narrow, and apparently of awonderful amber color.
When she spoke her voice was very cultured and soft; yet I started andI know I must have been staring very hard and very rudely. There was afaint huskiness in its tone, a caress in its accents, whichirresistibly reminded me of the scene in my study which had resulted,in the loss of the image of Bast.
I think I have already indicated that I am one of those who arrive ata decision somewhat laboriously; and now convinced that my memory ofthe luminous eyes was threatening to become an obsession, so that Ilooked to find them blazing out at me from the face of every strangerwhom I encountered, I forced myself to believe that a chanceresemblance in my visitor's voice to the voice of that other visitorhad tricked me.
"Mr. Addison," she said, "I'm afraid you will think this call somewhatunconventional, but"--she paused almost imperceptibly--"I am stayingat Friar's Park, and Lady Coverly has heard from Dr. Greefe that youwish to see the house."
"Really," I murmured, "it was good of you to take so much trouble,but--"
"It was no trouble at all," she declared. "I had occasion to come thisway and Lady Coverly asked me to call and tell you that whilst she isnot well enough to receive visitors, you are quite welcome to inspectthe older parts of the house."
"I am much indebted," I said.
Having so spoken, I ceased and was aware of a kind of embarrassment.For whilst I was naturally anxious to avoid unpleasant suspicionsregarding a lady who apparently had gone out of her way to perform anact of courtesy, yet I could not place this elegant figure in thehousehold of Friar's Park as that household had been depicted by myold gossip of "The Threshers."
I mentally determined there and then to question Martin, and ifpossible Hawkins, upon the point, directly an opportunity arose, andthe former immediately my visitor had departed. But she seemed to bein no hurry to depart.
"You have never visited this neighborhood before?" she continued, inthe soft, caressing voice which persistently awakened memories of thatevening in my cottage.
She re-seated herself upon the sofa, leaving me no alternative but tosit down in the only chair which the coffee-room boasted. I could notfail to notice, however, that although she addressed me as Mr.Addison, she did not volunteer her own name. Furthermore, she remainedthroughout with her back to the window.
"Never," I replied; "it is very interesting in many ways, I believe."
"You will find Friar's Park most fascinating," she assured me. "Itstands upon the site of one of the oldest and largest monasteries inthe south of England. Indeed, some parts of the house, notably thechapel and the west tower, which is visible from here, I think, areremains of the original building."
She was palpably trying to interest me; and conscious that my somewhatfrigid attitude was churlish, if she was really what she professed tobe--namely, a friend of Lady Coverly's--I endeavored in turn todisplay an intelligent interest in the history of the old monastichouse.
I do not regret that I did so. I think that I have never heard the drybones of history clothed so fascinatingly. The knowledge displayed bymy unknown visitor of the history of that old monkish corner ofEngland was truly amazing. The Coverlys, it appeared, had played theirpart in that history right back to the misty times of Saxon England.The scenes conjured up by my first sight of the curiously wild countrywhich lay between the village and the distant parkland were presentednow with all the color and truth of real life. This woman seeminglywas acquainted with almost every act of importance of every Coverlysince the days of Canute and with the doings of all the abbots who hadever ruled over Croix-de-Lis.
Finally, while I listened in ever growing wonder, fascinated by theextent of this strange woman's knowledge and in part, too, by thehusky music of her voice, she seemed to become conscious of thepassage of time and, rising suddenly, she laughed; and her laughteragain awakened a memory.
"How perfectly absurd of me, Mr. Addison!" she said. "You willcertainly think I am more than eccentric to sit here fulfilling thepart of a local guide."
Even as she spoke the words, a sound intruded from the road outside. Aheavy footstep came first, the footstep of one who approached the doorof the inn; then:
"Martin!" I heard; "a moment, please."
It was Dr. Damar Greefe!
If the sound of his voice had startled me, its effect upon my visitorwas truly singular. Taking a swift step towards me, she grasped my armwith her strangely slender gloved hand. Now that she stood so close tome, I realized that she was even taller than I had supposed, nearly astall as myself, in fact. Her swift, lithe movements possessed anindescribable grace which, as I thought, and experienced a suddenrevulsion, were oddly uncanny--cat-like.
"Oh, Mr. Addison," she said, and drew even nearer, so that I couldfeel her breath upon my cheek, "I fear that man as one fears a snake.I am going to ask a favor of you. I see that there is another door tothis room, and I have a particular reason for wishing to avoid him. Idon't know where that doorway leads to, but I can doubtless find myway out."
Her grasp upon my arm tightened.
"Dare I ask you," she added pleadingly, "to conceal from him ifnecessary the fact that I have been here?"
"But Martin knows that you have been here," I protested, my mind in awhirl at this sudden turn of affairs; "and the man sitting on thebench outside must have seen you come in also."
"He did not," she replied rapidly, "and Martin does not know who Iam."
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "Neither do I," but:
"Please," she pleaded; "it is not much to ask, but it means so much tome."
Thereupon, without waiting for my answer, she turned and ran outthrough the little doorway, which opened as a matter of fact into thelarder of the inn, from which there was an exit into a kitchen-garden.
I could hear Martin, the landlord, talking to the Eurasian doctor inthe passage outside the coffee-room, and before I had time to open thedoor, there came a peremptory rap, the door was opened from theoutside and Dr. Damar Greefe entered.
In spite of the already great heat of the morning he wore a heavyblack overcoat, and his white hair showed in startling relief beneatha wide-brimmed black felt hat. If I had been surprised at the tallnessof the woman who had so suddenly departed, the stature of the Eurasianwas curiously illustrated by the fact that he had to lower his head inorder to enter the little doorway.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, peering towards me where I stood in the badlylighted room--"Mr. Addison, I believe?"
"At your service, Dr. Greefe," I replied.
"I understood that my niece was here?"
"Your niece!" I exclaimed, and my astonishment was quite unfeigned.
"Precisely."
That peremptory manner which I had previously resented in him evinceditself now; and even had I lacked reasons other than personal forfoiling him I should certainly have returned a reply far from pacific.
"I was not aware," he continued, his voice high-pitched and harsh,"that you were acquainted. Inform me."
All the time he was peering about the room suspiciously, and:
"I inform you that we are not!" I said. "But if we were, I cannotconceive that our acquaintance would concern you in any way."
"You are rude, sir!" he cried, and bent towards me so that I could seethe fierce hawk face set in a vicious scowl.
"I should be sorry to think so," I said indifferently; for theEurasian's behavior transcended the merely annoying and was that of alunatic. "I would not willingly provoke a sick man, and the tone andmanner of your address forcibly suggest to me that your temperature isnot normal."
A moment he stood bending towards me, his pose that of one about tospring, then:
"Ah," he exclaimed, "yes, you are right, Mr. Addison. I live muchalone and I fear my manner grows brusk. Overlook it. She has gone,then?"
"If you refer to a lady who called upon me half an hour ago--yes, sheis gone."
He drew himself upright again and stood there, gigantic in the littleroom--a great, gaunt figure.
"Ah! And she was not my niece?"
"I lack the pleasure of your niece's acquaintance, Dr. Greefe."
"Yes. You said so. Good day, Mr. Addison."
He turned, lowered his head, and walked out of the room. When I, inturn, emerged into the passage, I saw him striding out of the inn.Martin was standing by the door of the bar-parlor looking veryconfused; and as I joined him, intent upon a chat, I observed that theshabby-looking stranger had departed.
"Hullo, Martin!" I exclaimed. "I thought I saw a customer here."
"When you came in there was. He went off with Cassim and Hawkins. Theywas goin' to show him the road to Manton."
"Cassim?"
"Aye."
Martin growled and walked behind the bar-counter.
"You have some curious residents in this neighborhood."
"Too curious by half."
"Cassim, for instance, is not an English name."
Martin indulged in that rumbling sound which was his only form oflaughter.
"English!" he said. "He's as black as your hat!"
My hat chanced to be gray, but I followed the idea nevertheless, and:
"What!" I exclaimed, "a negro?"
"A blackamoor. That's all I know or care; and dumb!"
"Dumb! and a friend of Hawkins?"
"God knows. Things ain't right."
"Do you know if--a lady--resides with Dr. Greefe?"
"Maybe--maybe not. There _is_ tales told."
Substantially this was all I learned from mine host; but, havinglighted my pipe, I sat down on the bench before the door and set mymind to work in an endeavor to marshal all the facts into some sort oforder.
The reputation locally enjoyed by Dr. Damar Greefe I could afford toignore, I thought, but from my personal observation of the man I hadcome to the conclusion that there was much about him which I did notand could not understand. In the first place, for any man to choose tolive, solitary, in such an abode as the Bell House was remarkable. Whyhad the masterful Eurasian retired to that retreat in company with hisblack servitor? I thought of my own case, but it did not seem toafford a strict analogy.
Then, who was the "niece" so closely guarded by Dr. Greefe? And if shewas none other than my late elegant visitor why had she sought theinterview? Not even my natural modesty, which in such matters I havesometimes thought to be excessive, could conceal from me the fact thatshe had found my society pleasing. But, since I had never seen herbefore, did this theory account for her visit? Recalling again thathuskily caressing voice, I asked myself the question: _Had_ I seen herbefore?
Perhaps the apparition of green eyes looking up to my window from thelane below, which on the night of my arrival I had relegated to thelimbo of dreamland, had been verity and not phantasm. If that were so,then the uncanny visitant to my cottage had pursued me to UpperCrossleys!
Or could it be the fact that she had preceded me? Perhaps Gatton hadnot confided the whole of his ideas to me--perhaps, as I had alreadysuspected, the heart of "the _Oritoga_ mystery" lay here and not inLondon.
The result of my meditations was that I determined, in pursuit of myoriginal plan, first to call upon Mr. Edward Hines; and havinginquired of Martin the way to Leeways Farm, I took my stick and setout.